A/N: For background, see All That Glisters. [Written at the request of Bodkin, who won a guessing game on LJ and claimed this story as the prize.]

Just Desserts

Chapter 1. Prologue

S.R. 1446

At the sound of marching feet passing through the marketplace, Denny (named for the old Steward of Gondor, but hardly anyone remembered that any more) looked up from the knife he was honing. He took his foot from the pedal and let the stone wheel slow. The usual bustle of a busy morning died down as merchants and customers turned to see the honour guard marching along, sober-faced Halflings in their midst.

The Shire-folk had arrived only the previous day, and Denny had been called up from a lower table to sit at the high table with the King and his honoured guests, not because once upon a time he'd saved the King's life on the battlefield, and been promoted to Elessar's elite guard, but rather because Pippin--Thain Peregrin, he corrected himself--had called for him to join the hobbits at the welcoming feast. Though injuries had caused him to retire from the guard, he was still in the thick of things at the Citadel, what with sharpening weapons and his luck at gaming, not to mention his talent for drawing uproarious laughter with the jokes he could tell.

His sweet wife was reaping the harvest of curiosity this morning; before Denny had left for his stand in the marketplace, where he sold knives and sharpened blades and tools, she had already had three callers, bearing baskets of one thing or another, calling in on the pretext of bringing some treat to a woman about to enter her confinement, pretending they came to spare her the necessity of shopping in the marketplace that day, and incidentally hoping to hear all about the King and Queen and visiting Halflings at the feast. Denny had taken himself off, but not in time to avoid a gabble of excited questions. At least he had the joy of Merileth's laughter to sustain him on his way.

What is it? What's going on? The breathless whispers swirled about him.

'So, Denny...' said his customer, one of the guardsmen, come to the market while off duty.

'So, Faenon...' Denny said in exactly the same vein.

'Was there word of a parade at the feast? Though they scarcely look festive...'

'Was there word of a parade in the buttery this morning?' Denny said. 'You ought to know better than I.'

'But... they're stopping in front of Seledrith's shop,' Faenon said.

Denny thrust the hilt of the knife into the guardsman's hand, not waiting for payment, and would have walked toward the little shop, his breath coming shorter than usual, even for a man with only one good lung, but Faenon's hand stayed him. What would Kingsmen have to do with his sister-in-law, or any of her family? They lived quiet, unassuming lives; as a matter of fact, Seledrith's husband Gwillam and his father were quiet men, retiring, speaking little, content to let Seledrith run the shop and rule over the family. Denny had often tried to draw them out when his wife's extended family gathered together, only to be defeated by their reticence. Only Gwillam's younger brother, Robin, had much to say, and he smiled more than he spoke.

'They don't appear as if they're in search of pocket-handkerchiefs,' he said, trying to pull away. 'Surely there's some mistake... the Halflings were there just yesterday, all smiles, and...'

'Stay, Denny,' Faenon said. 'This looks like trouble. Don't go mixing yourself...'

But the former guardsman wrenched himself free and began to hurry across the marketplace, leaving his old friend gaping after him.

Chapter 1. A Knock at the Door

Seledrith hummed a little tune under her breath as she rocked baby Robin, feeling the pleasant pull-and-tug of his nursing, the opening and closing of his little fist against her breast, the warm and cosy sensation of his head snuggled against her.

The homely rattle of dishes came from the little kitchen as Gwillam and his brother Robin, for whom the bright-eyed baby was named, washed up after breakfast. Gwillam had already put the kettle on the fire, filled with smoked meat hanging from the attic rafters and chopped vegetables from the root cellar, and soon the aroma would fill the shop and living quarters with the promise of good things to come... and a good thing, too, Seledrith thought with an absent frown. Gwillam had looked so unwell this morning when he'd kissed her awake.

'You look as if you haven't slept a wink,' she'd said, scolding lightly. 'Was little Rob up all the night? Why didn't you waken me?'

'I put him in bed between us when he wakened hungry, love,' he'd returned, 'but I do believe you slept as he suckled. You didn't stir when I took him away again...'

'And laid him down, and yourself, I hope?' she'd said.

'He was fussy, my love, and so Father and I took turns walking him up and down. Every time we tried to lay him down, he'd start up again, and so...'

'And so the three of you were up all the night!' Seledrith had said. 'And how is little Rob ever to learn the difference between night and day if you spoil him so, you and dear Father?'

Such a soft heart as her Gwillam had; he couldn't bear to lay the babe in his cradle and let him fuss himself to sleep.

It was no wonder that Gwillam's father had slept through breakfast this morning. Seledrith had let him sleep, though it was his custom to go off fishing with Gwillam on days when the Halflings were expected to walk the market. The old Man had a horror of the little folk, and so his son took him off on such days, to lessen the chance of an encounter. Really, Seledrith thought, if Father just got to meet one of the Halflings, he'd find they were no more fearsome than anyone else. But this was one point she could not budge her husband from, even though he let her rule the roost in most other matters.

Sometimes she wondered what it would be like to be married to someone brave and bold, like her sister's husband Denethor, whose exploits on the battlefield, and valour later in defending the visiting hobbits from ruffians, were known far and wide--both in Gondor, and here in the North. ...or even her youngest sister's husband, a brawny man, well-muscled, who wrestled steel into swords and other weaponry for the Kingsmen who guarded the North. Gwillam was slight, and quiet, and altogether unexciting...

But he was so very devoted to his father and brother, which touched her heart, and he was soft-spoken, gentle in his manners, and somehow his bashful admiration, when she had come to manage the newly built shop for his father, had turned Seledrith's attention from the tall and handsome guardsmen who came around to buy her pocket-handkerchiefs (Imagine!) and strive with each other to win her smile.

...but the Halflings had visited the shop yesterday, after the grand welcoming feast, coming unexpectedly. Seledrith smiled, returning to her train of thought. It was a good thing that Father had slept through their visit, though he'd been quite disturbed at supper when Gwillam and Robin had told him, so agitated that he could scarcely eat, and he and Gwillam had stayed up long past the time for retiring. Seledrith had heard their low-voiced conversation for what seemed an interminable time, before she slipped into sleep, and yet try as she might she could not make out any of the words. Likely Gwillam was trying to persuade his father that his fear of the little folk had no basis in truth...

In any event, if the Halflings came early to the market, as was their custom, Father wouldn't see them, sleeping as he was, and would not be disturbed. And there was a good chance that they wouldn't come this day, having purchased her entire stock of hobbit-sized pocket-handkerchiefs the previous afternoon. Of course, Mistress Diamond had not sent payment as she'd promised, but Seledrith had no worries. Diamond always paid what she owed, and often added a little extra for sweetness.

It was a good thing that the shop was already swept and put in order, for a knock came at the door before she was quite finished. 'Gwillam!' she called, lifting the sleepy--and he ought to be sleepy, keeping his father and grandfather dancing through the night--babe to her shoulder and gently patting and rubbing the warm, solid little back. 'Robin!'

Robin hurried from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a cloth, and pulled the curtain to shield the alcove where Seledrith sat, from the eyes of casual passers-by as he opened the door.

'We're not quite open yet! A moment, only...' he called as he unbolted, but the rest of the cheery greeting died on his lips and the colour left his face as the youth stared up at the tall guardsmen standing there, and the body of men behind them. He didn't see the hobbits in their midst--he staggered, grabbing at the doorpost to keep from falling; for somehow, in the faces of the guardsmen he read his doom.

'Robin! Of course the shop is open. Ask them in!' Seledrith called from behind the curtain, hastily doing up her dress as she rose from the rocking chair. But his next words electrified her, shouted at the raw edge of panic.

Will! Fly! Now! They've come!

Thanks to Dreamflower for suggesting names for OCs; her help expedited the posting of this chapter and future chapters. I lost the link I had to a lovely huge list of Gondorian names, and have little time for research at the moment, and she kindly loaned me a few of hers to go on.

Chapter 2. Rude Awakening

Seledrith thrust herself through the curtain from the alcove into the shop, hearing a crash from the kitchen, as of a plate shattering, seeing a guardsman push past the youth in the doorway. His name was Haleth, some part of her recognised, a sergeant in the King's guard. At that moment Gwillam appeared, shouting, 'No! Let him be! I'm the one you want!'

'Gwillam!' Seledrith choked, and the baby began to wail.

Robin was clinging to Haleth, hampering him, still shouting to Gwillam to flee, but more guardsmen were spilling through the doorway, and Haleth twisted in the youth's grasp making Robin the prisoner.

'Hold!' came a shout from the kitchen, and some quality to the voice made everyone freeze in place for a breath. Even the baby hiccoughed and whimpered instead of wailing.

Gwillam's father stalked into the room, his hair tousled from sleep, dignity in every line despite the fact that he was dressed in nightshirt, nightcap still on his head. He was the very picture of an upright, law-abiding patriarch disturbed from his rest. 'What is the meaning of this?'

'We have come with a warrant for Jack, son of Robin,' Haleth said.

The old man drew himself up, blinking. 'I beg your pardon?' he said politely.

'You are Jack, son of Robin,' the sergeant said.

'No...' young Robin sobbed.

'There must be some error,' the old man said. 'I am Gwill o' Dale, as you well know, Haleth, and these are my sons, Gwillam and Robin.' He smiled faintly, adding, 'And Robin is much too young to have a son.' Seledrith took a gasping breath, and realised she'd been holding her breath since Gwillam's father had entered the room. He sounded so sure, so reasonable. This must all be some terrible mistake.

'Jack,' Haleth said, nodding at the old man, 'Will,' he said to Gwillam, now held between two of his fellow guardsmen, 'and Rob,' to the youth he restrained.

And... 'Jack,' came a voice from the doorway. 'Jack, son of Robin... or is it Robin, son of Jack?'

All colour drained from the old man's face, seeing the hobbits standing there.

Seledrith thought of the many times she'd argued with Gwillam over his father's fear of Halflings. Now she saw the old man deflate, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he held out shaking hands. 'Have pity,' he whispered.

'Mercy,' Gwillam said from his captors' firm grip. 'He's an old man. Let him be. And Rob... he was but a child at the time. I'm the one you want. Take me.' He looked from the sergeant's grim face to Seledrith's shocked countenance and swallowed hard. I'm sorry, my love.

The old man drew himself up once more, resignation in every line. 'Have pity,' he repeated. 'They were lads at the time, following the fool who'd taken them under his wing. It was not their doing.' He looked from Gwillam to Seledrith with the tiny babe, to Robin, slumped in the sergeant's grasp. 'I am the man you are seeking.'

'What is it?' Seledrith whispered, lifting the babe to her shoulder and absently rubbing the little one's back. The soft whimpers stilled and the heavy head drooped against her. 'Why...?'

'I broke an edict of the King,' the old man said, squarely meeting her gaze. He lifted his chin still higher, regret in his eyes. 'I entered the Shire, knowing full well the penalty.' He turned to the guardsman. 'Let these others go. I am ready to pay.'

'Penalty?' Seledrith said faintly. She'd heard of the edict, of course, that Elessar had decreed that no Man should enter the Shire, but she wasn't sure of the import. Certainly, she'd had her own share of curiosity about the little folk, but she had no desire to travel into their land, to see the half-sized houses and farmsteads, where she'd have to crouch to enter through a doorway and eat with doll-sized utensils and curl up unnaturally to sleep in one of the beds, with a coverlet much too short! No, she was too old to be playing at dolls.

Her grip tightened on her precious baby, Gwillam's son, only a few weeks old, as her sense of unreality increased. She thought of the little cash box with savings from the shop, slowly accumulated over the last ten years. How much would they forfeit? She gasped. Would they lose the shop itself? But this would never do; her father had trained her that no matter what happened in the course of business, she must always wear a pleasant countenance. She forced a smile, forced herself to relax, kept rubbing at the sleeping babe's back, the only thing that seemed to her in that moment solid and steady.

From the reactions of Gwill and his sons, she ought to have suspected the true penalty they faced. With a trace of pity in his face, the guardsman holding Robin said, 'Death by hanging is the penalty.'

Seledrith's smile faded. 'I don't understand,' she said.

'You could claim that you entered the Shire on accident--crossed the Bounds without knowing you had,' the hobbit in the doorway said, keenly eying the old man.

Gwill shook his head. 'Found as deep in the Shire as I was?' he said honestly. 'Taking the wife of the Thain and her son and their escort captive, forcing them to travel with me as I sought to make my escape? Not to mention...'

'Not to mention you confessed to being after the Thain's gold,' the hobbit said with a wry expression. 'So my wife told me.'

'She also told Will that we had her full pardon, and yours,' the old man said. 'I suppose it was too much to hope, to think she might have the power to speak for the Thain of the Shire.'

'Not at all,' said the hobbit, whom Seledrith recognised now. She had only seen him at a distance, previously. It was his wife who came into the shop on a regular basis during the Halflings' visits to the Northland, to finger the lace, to exclaim over Seledrith's stitches, fine enough to have been set by hobbit fingers.

'You're Thain Peregrin,' she said stupidly.

The hobbit bowed. 'At your service,' he said, but then turned back to Gwillam's father. 'Diamond rightly extended her pardon to you, for your actions; as for myself, I informed the Watchers to let you pass unmolested out of the Shire. The report reached me, later, that they had seen you and the lads in your passing...'

'They saw us?' Gwillam whispered, breathing shallowly. 'They might have taken us then, and hanged us up from a tree on the Bounds?'

'Rob was too young to be charged with responsibility for his actions,' Pippin said. 'They'd have found him a good home, rather like a stray pup...'

The youth swore under his breath, and the old man absently corrected him. 'Robin!'

'They're going to hang you,' Robin said. 'They may even hang me, for that matter. I was but a small boy at the time, but what's to stop them now?' And looking from the old man to the hobbit, he said bitterly, 'So much for pity, and pardon...'

'You have my pardon,' Pippin said. 'As to the King's pardon, that is another matter. We are in the land of Men...'

'Will you speak for us, then, just as you spoke for that wretch they hanged after the ruffians took your son?' Robin said, still standing defiantly in the sergeant's grip, his tone too harsh to fit the jolly youth Seledrith had known up until this point in time.

'I will speak for you,' Pippin said gravely.

Somehow Seledrith did not find this at all reassuring. Her world was crumbling around her... no, it was whirling, her head was spinning, she was dizzy with the knowledge that nothing was as it had seemed, the past ten years. Gwillam was not Gwillam, nor was his father "Gwill", nor his brother "Robin", but all were strangers, law-breakers, pretending to be something that they were not.

She ought to sit down, she thought disjointedly, she ought, at least, to put the baby down before she dropped him... she ought... she thought, even as the roaring grew in her ears and the world spun into darkness.

Chapter 3. Shipwreck

Denny heard Robin's shout of warning when he was halfway across the marketplace; he broke into a run but was fully winded when he reached the little shop, having to lean against the wall as he panted for breath. Merileth was right, he thought irrelevantly to himself. He needed more exercise, short walks to start, growing into longer. His wind, even for a man with one good lung, was distressingly short.

'You all right?' Huor, one of the guardsmen, said at his side.

Denny nodded, but his breath came shorter as he heard old Gwill confess to breaking the King's edict regarding the Shire, and suddenly realised why Gwillam was trying to shield the others.

'Denny, sit down,' Huor said, taking his arm. 'We'll send for...'

'You're breaking formation,' Denny gasped, trying to pull away. He had to get in there, past the three hobbits who blocked the doorway.

'Denny,' Huor said, exasperated, his grip tightening.

Denny's head was swimming, and he bent over to fight the rising dizziness. One of the hobbits, distracted from the scene taking place inside the shop, murmured something to the other two and stepped aside. 'Denny,' he said, putting a work-worn hand on the man's arm.

'Mayor Sam,' Denny gasped, but the hobbit interrupted.

'Save your breath,' he said, and to Huor, 'Help me sit him down.' They seated Denny against the wall and Sam commenced to fan him, in an attempt to blow more air in the gasping man's direction.

Turambor the greengrocer came hurrying up. He was father to three daughters, Seledrith being one, and Denny's wife Merilith another, and the third was married to the armourer at the Citadel. His sons were at this moment driving wains into the city from outlying farms, laden with produce for the greengrocer's stand, and Turambor was setting up for the day when he saw the guardsmen stop outside the shop his daughter managed for her father in law. Leaving his wife to finish the setting up, he made his way through the gathering crowd of onlookers.

'What's all this?' he barked. 'Denethor, what is happening?'

Denny merely shook his head. Even if he knew exactly what was what, he hadn't yet the breath to tell it.

'It's an arrest,' Huor said. 'No business of yours, Turambor.'

'My daughter's shop!' the greengrocer bristled. 'Of course it's my...'

A cry of alarm from within stopped him, and the two hobbits standing in the doorway lunged into the shop. Turambor followed, to find his daughter lying in a guardsman's arms, two guardsmen restraining her husband, and another - Haleth, a good friend of his - holding fast to young Robin, while old Gwill stood alone, night-clad. 'Seledrith!' cried the greengrocer, falling to his knees at his daughter's side. She held the baby tightly, even in her swoon. 'What have you done to her?' he said, even as he moved past the hovering hobbits to take her from the guardsman.

'She fainted,' the guardsman said apologetically, and stood to his feet to move to old Gwill's side.

'So may I at least put on my underdrawers, before you hang me up?' the old man said wryly.

'Go with him, Rilion,' the sergeant snapped. 'Let him dress.'

Rilion nodded and took the old man's elbow, following him out of the shop into the private quarters behind.

'Hang him up?' Turambor said. 'What is the meaning of this?'

'It's an arrest,' the sergeant said. 'I'm afraid, old friend, that your daughter is married to a law-breaker.'

'Law-breaker!' Turambor gasped, but he recovered himself, gathering Seledrith a little closer, and sitting a little straighter on the floor he said, 'If they cannot manage to pay the fine, I'll make up the difference.'

'It's worse than that,' the sergeant said, and Turambor's eyes narrowed as he considered the words.

'Worse...,' he prompted, his heart dropping to his boots. Hang me up, old Gwill had said.

'I'm sorry,' the sergeant said, and then he assumed his official face once more. 'Form up!' he rapped out. One of Gwillam's captors quickly and efficiently bound the prisoner's hands behind him, and then took his arm again, and the two guardsmen began to pull Gwillam towards the door.

White-faced, Gwillam held back, staring at Seledrith in her father's arms, and the pride of his life, his tiny son. 'I'm sorry,' he gasped in unconscious echo of the sergeant. 'Sorry...'

'Come along with you,' one of his escort said, and he was gone, young Robin half-sobbing his name as he was pulled through the door.

Denny was recovering his breath as Gwillam emerged, and catching sight of him Gwillam cried, 'Take care of...'

'No talking,' one of the escort said, pulling roughly at his arm, but they couldn't silence his eyes, which stared into Denny's, desperation in their look.

'I will,' Denny said, and Huor gave him a little shake.

'You know better, Denny,' he said. 'Don't talk to him.'

Denny climbed to his feet, using the wall as leverage, and shook off the guardsman's helping hand. 'I am well,' he said tightly, 'and you've been ordered to "form up".'

Huor dropped his hand from Denny's arm and nodded, wiping his face of expression, though sympathy stood in his eyes.

As Haleth pulled the youth out of the shop, Pippin stopped him. 'He was just a boy at the time,' the hobbit insisted. 'You must release him.'

'We are under orders, sir,' the sergeant said, but the hobbit would not be put off.

'This does not concern him,' he said, emphasising every word, 'and if you don't want to find yourself facing a flogging you will heed my words.'

Denny stood still with shock, hearing Pippin threaten a flogging. It seemed the world had turned on its head, and everything had been shaken to the foundations. But the hobbit continued to stare down the sergeant, and of their own volition Haleth's hands released the youth, and Robin staggered away. Denny caught him before he could fall.

And then old Gwill emerged, with remarkable dignity, considering that he had dressed with haste and his hands were bound behind him. He had a nod for Denny. He swallowed hard and tears came to his eyes as he gave Robin a long look, and then he deliberately turned away, his shoulders slumping a moment before he set them straight.

'Form up!' the sergeant cried again, and the soldiers moved into formation, the prisoners in their midst and the three hobbits moving to follow, Pippin grim, Merry's countenance dark, and Sam's expression grieved.

'These premises are forfeit to the Crown,' the sergeant announced to the murmuring crowd. 'Contents subject to auction, at a date to be announced.'

Turambor emerged then, bearing Seledrith in his arms, and Rilion at his side with the baby. Young Robin straightened in Denny's grasp and stepped forward, holding out demanding arms for his namesake. 'I'll take him,' he said.

'Bring him along with me,' the greengrocer said in an overloud voice, to make sure that Gwillam heard. 'He and his mother will not go homeless. We have a place for them, and yourself as well, lad.'

'I'll take Robin, if I may,' Denny said, his voice also raised. 'He'll always have a home with us, so long as he needs one.'

He saw Gwillam raise his drooping head and set his shoulders, though his brother in law did not try to turn to look back; he saw the old man look over at his older son with a nod - Courage! - and then the sergeant ordered the march, and the silent crowd parted to make way for the guardsmen, who marched away, leaving desolation and destruction in their wake.

Chapter 4. Flotsam and Jetsam

Airin broke from the watching crowd. Orphaned in the War of the Ring, taken in by Turambor's brother as a small child, having travelled from Gondor with the family to seek new life in the North and now married to Turambor's oldest son, she had followed Turambor from the greengrocer's stand and had watched the entire scene unfold.

Airin was of a practical bent, and though the tears stood in her eyes, she turned to shoo the onlookers away. 'Go on with you all!' she cried fiercely. 'There's nothing more to be seen! Go!'

'Daughter,' Turambor said, and she turned to him.

'Go,' she said. 'Take Seledrith and baby Robin out of the morning chill. I'll be along shortly.'

Seledrith stirred in her father's arms. 'Gwillam?' she murmured, and then she began to struggle wildly, so that her father was forced to stand her on her feet to keep from dropping her. 'Gwillam!'

'Seledrith,' Airin began, but catching sight of Robin with his namesake, Seledrith advanced on the youth and took the baby from him, hugging the infant tightly to herself as the tears poured down her cheeks. 'Gone,' she sobbed. 'All I have left...'

When she would have turned into the little shop, she was stopped by the young soldier left on guard. 'No entry,' he said. The apple of his throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously.

Turambor put a restraining arm about Seledrith's shoulders, even as she sputtered. 'Come home with me,' he said. 'Come home.'

As Turambor turned away, Airin looked about to make sure the crowd had properly dispersed, seized Robin's arm and marched up to the young guardsman. 'Rilion,' she said sternly.

'Airin,' he answered uncomfortably, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

'Forfeit to the Crown, is it? You'll send Robin and Seledrith away with just the clothes on their back, not even a blanket for the baby?'

'Airin,' the guardsman said again, pleading under his breath. 'Move along, now.'

She put her hands on her hips and stared him down. She had minded him when they were both much younger, in Minas Tirith, for a penny a day while his mother washed and scrubbed to keep home and family together. She'd never taken any nonsense from him before he entered the King's service, and she was not about to start now. 'You'll send them away with empty hands, them as never did any wrong?' She tapped her foot impatiently, showing no signs of moving along.

'Airin, they'll be sending workmen to nail boards over the doors and windows,' Rilion said. 'You know that I cannot...'

'The cooking fire is still going, and there are candles burning,' Denny said, stepping into the fray. 'Should the "premises" catch fire and take the rest of the row with it, fat lot of good it'll do for the Crown.'

'The workmen will...' Rilion said stubbornly.

'You don't leave a candle burning,' Denny pressed. 'Why, a fire could be starting, even as we speak...'

Rilion rolled his eyes; he would have thrown up his hands, were it not unsoldierly to do so. 'Very well!' he hissed, looking about to see if anyone was heeding them. No, the other townsfolk had scattered to the business of the market, some in sympathy not wanting the family to suffer stares and speculation on top of everything else, and others simply practical--there was nothing to be done but to make the best of things, and life must go on regardless. In any event, none was watching them. 'Go on, put out the flames, candle and hearth, and...' He took a deep breath and plunged into the depths, lowering his voice as he did so. 'One bag each, mind you, one each, for Seledrith and Robin to take away...'

Airin was not one to let the grass grow under her feet. Seizing Robin by the arm, she dragged the youth through the door. 'Quickly, gather what you can of your things,' she said.

Denny followed. 'We don't have much time,' he said. 'We must be out before the workmen arrive or Rilion will be in a world of trouble.'

'I hope he...' Airin said grimly, and bit off the rest of the sentiment. Rilion was only following orders, after all. Or not following them, as it were, in this moment. Now she gave Robin a push. 'Go!' she said. 'We haven't all day!'

Suiting word to action, she hurried up the narrow steps to the bedroom on the right-hand side of the chimney that rose from the hearth, pleasantly warmed by the heat rising from the cooking fire. Dumping a pillow from its case, she began to stuff Seledrith's and baby Robin's clothing into the makeshift bag.

Robin was close behind her, turning into his smaller room on the left and following Airin's example. But a few bare moments, to rescue what remained of his life. He crammed the bag full, scarcely taking note of what he picked up, his mind a-whirl even as he tried not to think of what might be happening elsewhere at that moment... but as he turned to survey the room, there was a sharp snapping sound, as of a trapdoor falling open...

He sank down on the bed, gasping out his brother's name, and his father's.

It was only a moment or so later that Airin found him there. 'Done?' she said. 'We must get out, Robin, before the workmen come...'

Robin looked up, to see that he'd knocked over the roughly-carved wooden horse his brother had made him, to celebrate the first birthday he'd had in their new home, ten years ago now. Tears came to his eyes, but he shook them away, grabbed up the keepsake, shoved it into his bag, and followed Airin down the stairs.

Denny met them, hefting the kettle that he'd taken from the hearth, its handle wrapped in cloth. As they emerged, he said, 'Do you suppose the Crown wants this?'

'Take it and go!' Rilion said nervously, casting another glance about them. 'Go!'

They went.

Chapter 5. Shadows of the Past

Not one of the greengrocer's family went to the gallows. There was no point in it, to grieve themselves over it all by the sight that would undoubtedly meet their eyes. There would be time enough, when the sunset bells rang and it would be time to claim the bodies, to wash them and lay them out for burial, to perform the small duties of final affection and farewell.

Turambor set Robin small tasks in the sheltered portion of the greengrocer's stand, away from prying or pitying eyes: tying bunches of herbs together, mostly, and washing the sand out of the greens. The youth worked without speaking; they all did, Turambor's sons and their wives and the greengrocer himself. His own wife sat with Seledrith, for she had lapsed into staring silence, holding the baby close, and she wouldn't let anyone take him from her.

Merileth sat nearby; heavy with child, she wasn't allowed to be on her feet helping. Denny had seen Seledrith and Robin safely to the greengrocer's and had just started homewards when he saw his wife hurrying towards him, their toddler in her arms, face pale and eyes wide. He intercepted her with an exclamation of concern, only to be interrupted.

'Surely it's not true!' she gasped. 'Surely...' Her protestations died as she looked into his face. 'O my poor sister,' she mourned then, as the tears spilled from her eyes.

'Come, my love,' Denny said, drawing her under the greengrocer's spacious awning that shaded the fresh, sparkling produce from the bright morning sun. He pulled her through the back of the stand, to the sheltered portion behind, and she fell upon her younger sister with an awkward hug, but Seledrith did not seem to notice her presence, nor took her attention from the baby in her arms.

'Seledrith!' Merileth said in shock.

'My love,' Seledrith cooed, staring downwards, a half-smile on her face. 'My sweet little love.'

'Let be,' Turambor said after greeting his eldest daughter. 'It is kinder to let her dream, for the moment. There's nothing to be done until the sunset bells, in any event.'

And so the quiet hours passed, quiet behind the greengrocer's stand, anyhow. Even the greengrocer's grandchildren played quietly under an aunt's watchful eye. The market bustled as usual, and Airin and her husband Turamir managed the stand between them, even when quite a crowd gathered, seeking fresh greens and spring onions and herbs and potatoes from storage and carrots kept fresh in barrels of sand, and all wanting to be served at once, of course, that nuncheon might come on time to the table.

At last the crowd waned, and it was time to sit to their own meal, supplemented by the kettle of stew that Denny had rescued from ruin, though no one had much appetite. In the afternoon the bargain hunters came to haggle over the greens, now growing weary, and late in the day much of the leavings were sold for half- and quarter-pennies, to those who would soon be feeding their pigs. Enough was left to feed Turambor's own pigs, and this was packed into buckets, clearing the tables to be scrubbed and made ready for the morrow, for the greengrocer's shop was open every day whether it was a market day or not.

Something of Seledrith's mood seemed to have infected Robin; he went about the scrubbing of the tables with a half-smile upon his face, and Denny, who had forsaken his knife-sharpening business to work with the greengrocer's family this day, was surprised to hear the youth humming under his breath. Robin had worked quietly through the morning hours, moving slowly, occasionally muttering to himself under his breath, but after the daymeal he had suddenly squared his shoulders with a nod to himself. Denny had wondered at the time, had decided that the youth had accepted the situation, bad as it was, had resolved to carry on as best he could. But humming...

'Robin,' he said softly. 'Is it well with you?'

'Why are we so sombre?' Robin countered. 'You'd think...'

Denny took a shallow breath. The lad had lost his wits from grief, that was clear to him. 'Robin,' he said, slowly and carefully.

Robin actually chuckled. 'Why indeed?' he answered himself. 'Nothing has happened.'

'Nothing!' Denny said, startled.

'Don't you see?' Robin said, cocking his head to one side. 'Farry's father spoke for us. He promised he would.'

'I beg your pardon?' Denny said, feeling stupid.

'He said he'd speak for us; didn't you hear him? He spoke for me, first, and they released me...'

Denny thought to himself that either he was being exceptionally thick, or Robin was seriously deluded. Had Pippin in truth spoken for the others, successfully spoken, that is, would they not have returned? Where were Gwill and Gwillam, or Jack and Will, whatever they might be called? He was all too sure of the answer.

'Robin...' he tried again.

'He promised,' Robin said, 'and Farry told me that he is as good as his word.'

'Farry?' Denny said.

'Fararmir Took,' Robin said matter-of-factly. 'We're the same age, did you know that? When we met in the Shire, we had both seen six summers. He was only half my size, of course...'

'Of course,' Denny said, humouring the youth.

'I wonder if he's still half my size?' Robin said, pursing his lips in thought. 'I've heard he's tall, like his father, and I'm certainly never going to be tall, but then neither is Will--Gwillam, I mean, and my own father...

'Gwill is nearly as tall as I am,' Denny said.

'No, I meant my own father,' Robin said. 'Gwill adopted us, ten years ago, took us in. His name was Jack, then...'

'So I've heard,' Denny said dryly.

'But when we came here, he said it would be better to have different names,' Robin said. 'Even though Diamond promised him there would be no pursuit...'

'Why would she do such a thing as that?' Denny said, glancing from one side to the other. But the marketplace was nearly deserted now. 'He had taken her prisoner, from what I heard this morning, and young Faramir for that matter. I cannot think the Thain would forgive such abuse of his family...'

'And his cousin as well,' Robin said.

'His cousin,' Denny said.

'Hilly,' Robin said. 'He was riding with them, to keep them safe from wild animals or such. But his pony blundered into a bog...'

'I'd heard about that,' Denny said. 'He nearly doomed himself, throwing young Faramir to safety.' He'd heard about Hilly and the bog, ten years ago when he'd first met the hobbit, but nothing about him being taken prisoner along with Diamond and Faramir. He wondered if it would be news to the King as well.

'You heard how he got out, didn't you?' Robin said, his expression brightening.

Denny had to scratch his head. 'No,' he said slowly. 'As a matter of fact, that part of the tale was never told. I just assumed he dragged himself out somehow.'

'Diamond had pulled branches to the edge of the bog and shoved them in, as far as they would go,' Robin said, 'but by the time she'd built a sturdy enough bridge, Hilly was too far gone to save himself, and she was too cold and stiff and tired to crawl out over the branches to try to pull him out. I doubt she'd have had the strength anyhow--he was sunk up past his waist in the mire.'

'How did he get out?' Denny said. He'd been humouring the youth, but now he was honestly interested.

'Will crawled out over the branches,' Robin said, his expression reflecting remembered fear. 'I was sore afraid... we'd lost our mother and father, and then our grandmother, and were all alone in the world, just Will and I, and here he was crawling into a bog, with only Jack's rope for safety...'

'Your brother went into the bog after Hilly?' Denny said, and whistled low. 'But he was only a lad...'

'He was nearly fifteen,' Robin said stoutly. 'Just a little younger than I am now. Old enough to do a man's work; our father was teaching him the cobbler's trade...'

Old enough to do a man's work, Denny thought bleakly. Old enough to pay a man's price for entering the Shire. Too young to know better...

'Will--Gwillam--he and Gwill saved Hilly from the bog, and then Gwill built a fire and kept Diamond and Farry from freezing to death; their clothes were wet and they'd been sitting on the wet ground, and her pony was lame, and the bog had swallowed Hilly's pony, and there they were in the middle of the woods...'

'Gwill is Jack,' Denny said quietly to himself.

'Why of course he is,' Robin said with a little laugh. 'Didn't I just say so?'

'Why was he in the Shire in the first place?' Denny asked. He had quite forgotten about table-scrubbing by this point.

For the first time since they'd cleared the tables, a shadow crossed the youth's face. 'He thought he knew where the Thain kept his hoard,' he said, and shook his head. 'All his life he'd lived upright,' he looked up with an earnest expression, wanting Denny to believe, 'all his life,' he repeated, 'and it was all taken from him in a few moments by robbers who took all he had and beat him and left him for dead.'

Denny nodded. Such things were not so common now, with outposts of Kingsmen patrolling the King's roads, but even now such incidents were possible, though not as likely. 'And so he turned robber himself?' he said curiously.

'No!' Robin said, stung. 'He said that the Thain had piles of gold lying about in chests, uncounted, unguarded. No one would be hurt, and the Thain would hardly miss the little bit of gold that we needed...'

'That you needed...?' Denny echoed.

Robin flushed. 'He'd taken us in, well, we took him in, actually. Will found him in the brambles where the robbers had kicked him after they were through with him, and he and I pulled him out and dragged him to our shelter...' A crude shelter it had been, enough to keep off the rain. They had left the village as illness ravaged family after family, Robin's father hoping to escape infection through isolation until the epidemic had run its course. A desperate appeal to the King had been sent, but no reply had come.

Likely the messenger fell ill, himself, and died along with his message, Denny thought as he heard the story. After their grandmother had followed their parents in death, the boys had made their way back to the village, finding it empty and desolate. They had fled--Denny could only imagine the terrible scene--back to their hovel, managing to live on berries and roots and rabbits that Will snared.

Denny sat down upon the table he'd been about to wash, shaken by Robin's narrative.

Robin fell silent, his look grown inward and far away.

'And so Gwill--Jack--saved Diamond and Farry and Hilly, and won the Thain's gratitude, even though you all were in the Shire in violation of the edict,' Denny said, turning away from the subject of desolate village and desperate orphaned children.

'That was part of it,' Robin said, 'though Jack was so grateful, to escape with our lives, that he vowed never to leave the upright path again.' He dipped his cloth in the bucket of soapy water and began to scrub vigorously at the table between them. Denny stood to avoid a soaking and tendered his own cloth.

'Part of it?' Denny prompted.

'Jack saved the son of the Thain again, when the ruffians took Farry and dropped him in the river,' Robin said.

'Jack saved...' Denny said slowly. His memory of the kidnapping was dim and vague; one of the kidnappers had shot him through with an arrow while he was performing routine escort duty and he was a lucky man, indeed, to be alive to tell the tale. 'He was the man at the river, the man with the rope, that saved the young hobbits?' The rescuer had fallen into the maelstrom at the base of the waterfalls where the Lake spilled its waters to form the source of the Baranduin River.

Denny had heard stories of the rescue, from his fellow guardsmen, while he lay in his bed in the Houses of Healing. The rescuer had saved the kidnapped hobbits, had been clinging to his rope as the guardsmen hauled him to safety, when the rope came free of its mooring, plunging him to his death. Although his body had never been found...

'So you see, Farry's father promised to speak for us,' Robin said. 'I'm sure that when the King heard the story he stopped the hanging. I'm sure of it. He promised to speak for us. You heard him!'

Denny swallowed hard and tried to smile to meet Robin's bright expression, though he feared it was a dismal failure. Robin had persuaded himself that no hanging had taken place... but if that were the case, where were Gwill and Gwillam? He jerked as the sunset bells began to ring.

Turambor emerged from the back of the shop, removing his apron and hanging it on a protruding nail. 'Are you done here?' he said.

'We're just finished,' Denny answered, giving a final swipe to the table.

'Good,' the greengrocer said. He turned to call to his oldest son, 'Turamir!' Turning back he said, 'Targil is bringing one of the carthorses, to carry them back.' He eyed Robin with concern. 'You had better stay, lad.'

'But I...' Robin said, and stopped, the bright expression fading from his face as the sun's colours fade from the sunset sky with the coming of darkness. 'Are you finished...' he whispered, and then, 'You had best stay... I had best stay...'

'Lad?' Denny said gently, reaching out to lay a hand on the trembling arm.

Robin took a shuddering breath, terrible realisation on his face. 'He said, "I'll speak for you",' he whispered, turning haunted eyes to Denny. 'I'll speak for you. And he did, he spoke for me.' He gasped, his eyes looking on some private nightmare. 'He spoke for me,' he said again. 'Did he not speak for them, then?'

Chapter 6. Led to the Slaughter

Jack stared straight ahead as he was marched through the streets, the houses with their gleaming walls passing in a meaningless blur beyond the jumble of tall guardsmen surrounding them, dressed in the grey-and-silver of the Northern-kingdom. The pace was faster than his habitual amble, and it was not long before he was breathing hard. He couldn't have talked to Will if he'd wanted to, though a sideways glance showed him that the younger man was easily keeping the pace the guardsmen set.

At last the old man could manage no longer; stumbling, he fell to his knees. An alert guardsman kept him from measuring his length on the cobblestones, shouting to the sergeant, who called a halt.

'Father!' Will cried. He'd tried to go to Jack, but two guardsmen had grabbed his arms from either side, nearly hauling him off his feet.

'No talking,' one of two growled, raising a gauntleted fist in patent threat. Will fell silent, for he knew that the rule would be enforced with more punitive measures if he failed to heed. Pippin, however, had seen the gesture and moved up beside them with a warning look for the guardsman. Order was order, but there was no call for bullying, said the look, and the guardsman nodded and released Will's arm, standing stiffly beside him.

Jack, on the other hand, rested in his saviour's grasp, gasping for breath. Astoundingly, he began to chuckle, breathless as he was. Huor, for he was the guardsman who'd caught Jack as he fell, exchanged glances with the sergeant. 'On your feet,' he said, lifting the old man, but when he let go his grasp Jack sagged again, and it was catch him or let him fall face-first onto the stones, in front of the curious onlookers who had stopped to gape when the guardsmen and their prisoners, and their escort of hobbits, had stopped.

'Why hurry to a hanging?' Jack gasped. 'The rope will still be there, even if we come belated.'

Will held his breath, but these were decent men, only doing their duty, and it was not in them to strike an old man, even if he were a law-breaker.

'I'm not sure he can walk any farther, sergeant,' Huor spoke over Jack.

'Carry him, then,' Haleth ordered.

Huor nodded, and joining hands with Gumlin beside him to make a lady-chair, lifted the old man.

Jack's head lolled against him, and with sudden alarm, Huor said, 'Is it well with you, old father?'

The dry chuckle came again. 'Am I to answer?' Jack whispered, and followed with, 'How do you think, lad? I am on my way to my hanging!'

'No talking!' the sergeant snapped, and Huor shared an irritated look with Gumlin.

'We ought to fetch a healer,' Gumlin put in.

'But I'll save you so much trouble if I expire on the spot,' Jack said, fainter now, and then his eyes closed.

'Is he...?' Pippin said anxiously.

'He's breathing,' Huor said, and the hobbit nodded and relaxed somewhat.

'He won't be, much longer, the way things stand,' Merry muttered, voicing the thoughts of all the hobbits, and Samwise shook his head. Would Hilly and Bergil find the King in time to stop this before it was too late?

'For'ard!' Haleth snapped. They'd wasted too much time already, and there was distinct sympathy for the prisoners on the faces of the passers-by. And so they moved forward once more, the booted feet moving in a steady cadence.

They marched from the finer part of the city into plainer parts, where the houses were smaller than those near the Citadel, fences of elegantly wrought and painted iron giving way to whitewashed fences and these to plain wooden fences, and past the latter to the spreading kitchen gardens within the City walls, thickly planted to provide some food in good times or times of trouble or siege. At last they were passing the pens where cattle bawled and sheep bleated, and pigs awaiting slaughter grunted and moved restlessly in their pens. Butchers moved among the animals, marking their chosen beasts with a daub of paint from the buckets hanging from their belts. Marked for death, Will thought to himself, sick. Led to the slaughter. He felt a sympathy for the beasts that he'd not known since he was a small child.

And out the small, unimportant gate just beyond these pens they marched, a gate wide enough to drive cattle or sheep or pigs or geese in, or to drive a wain filled with waste out to be buried in the pit some way outside the walls, where stone for the City had been quarried and now the City's refuse found a final resting place. Here stood the gallows, destination for refuse of a different sort.

'Quite convenient,' Will heard Jack say, and he looked over to see Jack awake and aware, staring out at the pit. He swallowed hard, taking Jack's meaning. Bodies of law-breakers that went unclaimed found their resting place beyond, in unmarked graves, with the rest of the refuse. When a part of the pit grew full, dirt would be smoothed over and a garden planted, trees and grass, to cover the blighted spot, perhaps nourished by the refuse beneath.

Two guards stood by the platform, coming to attention as the prisoners' detail approached. The sergeant marched up to them, saluting. 'Condemned prisoners for the gallows,' he said.

'Your warrant?' one of the gallows guards asked. Haleth pulled a roll of paper from his belt and presented it with a flourish. It was soberly accepted and perused. The gallows guard stopped in the middle of his reading and looked up. 'Three names on the warrant,' he said.

'An error,' Haleth said. 'One was only a boy at the time of the offence, and so he was released.'

Pippin entertained for a moment the wild notion that the warrant would be dismissed as a result, but no. The guard finished reading, re-rolled the warrant and placed the document in a carved box that stood to one side of the platform.

Will had taken one horrified look and turned his head away, for a raggedly clad figure was already there before them, face darkened and distorted.

'First one today,' the gallows guard said, following the sergeant's glance. 'Caught in the act of stabbing a drunkard, robbery.'

The sergeant nodded.

'The Steward wasn't best pleased, to have this stinking ruffian hauled before him directly after his breakfast,' the second gallows guard said. 'Took him no time at all to question the witnesses and sign the death warrant. It seems he's been doing a brisk business in warrants this morning.' He eyed the prisoners. 'But I hadn't heard that there was another hearing already...'

'No hearing necessary,' the sergeant said. 'Broke an edict of the King's and were positively identified by reliable witnesses.'

'If only the witnesses were not so reliable,' Pippin whispered to Merry, and Will looked at him in surprise. He'd rather gathered the impression that the hobbits, somehow, had accompanied them to witness the arrest and subsequent events. It was custom for an accuser to stand witness to the penalty, whether pillory or post or gallows.

Pippin saw the surprise, and spoke directly to Will. 'It was not my doing,' he said. 'Believe me, this is not the meeting I was anticipating when Diamond told me she had seen you.'

Will glanced at his guards and decided not to risk an answer.

Jack's head rested once more on Huor's shoulder, and his eyes were closed.

Pippin nodded at the question in the young man's eyes. 'Unfortunately, Farry overheard us,' he said. 'Not that it was a bad thing in itself...' He sighed. 'It was when the escort heard him telling Pip-lad Gamgee...'

Chapter 7. Hurry Up and Wait

The sergeant saluted again, but instead of the usual dismissal one of the gallows guards said, 'You are not relieved.'

'Not relieved!' he protested. 'Falathar, what is this nonsense? We have delivered our charges safely...'

Falathar shrugged and spread his arms to the sides. 'Do you see Balanurthon here? He was called away but a few moments ago, by order of the King, and his assistant is abed with a serious fever this day. There'll be no hangings until Balanurthon returns.'

***

'A stroke of pure brilliance,' Hilly said, riding before Bergil on the saddle that he might take in their surroundings without a great hulking Man blocking his vision, 'inviting the King's executioner to come along with us...'

'Inviting!' Balanurthon said, riding alongside. 'Pure threat would be the more likely description. First you lure me away, Bergil, saying you have a message from the King, and then you tell me it'll be the worst day of my life if I return to the gallows without seeing the King first... and only after the city is out of our sight do you tell me that we are riding into the wilderness to seek the King, who is who-knows-where to be found... and how would you know that he had a message for me, if he left before the dawning?'

'Peace, Balanur,' Bergil said, raising a gauntleted hand to halt their progress while he scrutinised the faint track leading from the main road that ran between Fornost and the rebuilt Annuminas. 'Had you tarried but a moment more there would have been a world of trouble. Believe me, this was the easier way.'

He had been counting the byways as they rode, and he certainly hoped he had not missed any. Some were freshly engraved into the landscape, from farmers driving wains to market or animals to the stockyards, and some were faint as from infrequent use.

He nodded at another passing group, on their way into the city for market day, ignoring the stares of curiosity at the picture they presented: guardsman in the black-and-silver of Gondor, accompanied by one of the Halflings and a man in the unrelieved black of the King's justice.

'I only hope you haven't brought me out here on an Ent-hunt,' Balanurthon said. 'A world of trouble, you say? And I say, what will the Steward have to say to me on my return? I have a full docket this morning: a branding, two floggings, and several in the stocks who will want release when the sunset bells ring... not to mention the hangings you say are waiting...'

'Not to mention,' Hilly said sourly.

'Branding and floggings can wait,' Bergil said practically, 'and the men in the stocks have earned a day of scorn and discomfort. We ought to be back well before the sunset bells, I hope.'

'I certainly hope so,' Balanurthon said. 'There's already a body hanging from the gallows, that must be cut down at sun's set, and if I don't get back before the sunset bells any other hangings will have to wait for the morrow.'

'And this is a bad thing?' Hilly said, involuntarily. He felt Bergil stiffen and then relax once more.

'Not all men...' Bergil began.

'You need not state the obvious,' Hilly said. 'Far be it from me to repeat Ferdi's refrain: "All Men are ruffians" but I know very well that not all are as upright as yourself, Bergil.'

'Or the King,' Bergil prompted. It was an old jest between them.

Hilly snorted.

'The King?' Balanurthon said in wonder. He'd heard that Halflings bandied light words about heavy subjects, but to speak so...

'I haven't quite made up my mind about him yet,' Hilly said, casting a dark look at the executioner. 'This hanging business...'

Balanurthon took a deep breath, ready to defend his occupation, but Bergil interrupted. He'd made up his mind, and turned his horse's head along the faint track leading from the road. 'This way,' he said.

'I only hope you know what we're doing,' Balanurthon said.

So do I, Bergil thought, but had too much presence of mind to say. So do I.

***

'I could hang them up for you, but they wouldn't thank me for it,' Falathar said, after they had waited for more than an hour, with no sign of Balanurthon's return, and not even a message from the man to say how long he would be delayed. 

Sam frankly stared at this sentiment, but Pippin, understanding, looked grimmer still. The men employed by the Crown to hang condemned criminals knew their business: They set the knot of the rope in such a way as to break the neck of the hanged man as he fell, ensuring a relatively quick and painless death.

The ruffians, on the other hand, who had ruled the Shire under Sharkey's hand, were not so careful in their work. Or perhaps it would be better to say that their care lay in the opposite direction. The few hobbits hanged by the ruffians, rebels and troublemakers, Tooks for the most part... it made Pippin sick to think of them. The ruffians were careful in arranging the rope, just as careful as the King's executioner, but their aim was to prolong the dying and accompanying pain and fear. This piece of nastiness had saved Pippin's cousin Ferdibrand, who'd been cut down before the slow-strangling rope could complete its task, but the hobbits who couldn't be saved...

'Steady,' Merry said softly, a hand on his cousin's arm, and Pippin took a deep breath and forced himself to relax once more.

'Certainly,' he gritted. 'You want an expert, for a job like this one.'

Huor and Gumlin, still bearing Jack between them, shifted uneasily.

'At least it saves us the trouble, for the time being, of Merry and myself offering our lives in place of theirs,' Pippin added, and desperate as the situation was, he nearly laughed at the men's shocked expressions.

Falathar began to think that this was not going to be as routine a matter as was usual.

Samwise was just as startled as the Men, for there had been no time, in the hurry since they'd been informed of the danger to Jack and Will, to discuss such matters. However, he quickly took hold of himself and spoke up firmly. 'And myself, if need be.'

'I...' Falathar said, beyond words. Worse and worse. He began to wonder if being abed with a high fever was such an unwelcome affliction.

Haleth, on the other hand, stood numbly, wanting this to be over and done. As a good friend of Turambor the greengrocer, he knew Gwill and Gwillam; he'd drunk the new father's health at the celebration, just the other day, when by custom the babe was deemed old enough to see the world outside of home and be seen by the world. He had scarcely heeded the hobbits. He wanted only to be away from this grisly place, with one corpse already hanging and ropes at the ready, waiting for more.

Chapter 8. A Cup of Cold Water 

The old man stirred and whispered. Water.

Huor and Gumlin exchanged glances. They knew what they ought to do, but not if it was allowed under the circumstances...? In previous experience, they'd delivered a prisoner to his doom and, relieved of further responsibility, had marched away again as Balanurthon and his assistant began to go about their business.

The guardsmen hesitated, wound about with oppressive regulations, presented with a situation not covered by their orders, and having no enemy in sight to clarify matters. To make things worse, the Steward who governed in the King's absence had grown increasingly grim since the death of his son by the treachery of ruffians seeking entry into the Shire, and the gold (it was rumoured) to be found there. One did not want any hint of dereliction of duty to be brought to the Steward's attention.

Jack licked dry lips and tried to open his eyes. 'Water,' he murmured. 'Please...'

The hobbits, however, did not suffer from such worries.

'Water,' Pippin said, his tone brooking no contradiction. Haleth and the escort detail carried no water. He turned to the gallows guards. 'Surely you have water here. Hanging men up must be thirsty work.'

Falathar cleared his throat, not sure how to answer this sentiment. It was true, he often sought out a beer or several at the end of the day, though he'd grown somewhat used to the duty. It helped to think of it as routine, nothing more, not lives cut off. If he happened to think about the man he steadied as the executioner adjusted the noose, he rationalised that this work made the city a safer, cleaner place.

And in truth, when he read the report of their crimes, as written in the death warrants, he felt a certain satisfaction in his work. But these men before him, whose only crime appeared to be that they had wandered into the Shire against the King's edict...

'Water,' Pippin repeated. 'If not for him, then for me.'

Falathar gave him a startled look. He'd heard that the Halflings were soft folk, on the outside, with a core of hard iron, but this one spoke with a hardness to his tone worthy of the Steward himself. 'Certainly, sir,' he fumbled, and went to fill Balanurthon's own cup, the least battered of the vessels kept there for the convenience of those who laboured in that place from dawn until dusk. 'Here you are, sir,' he said on his return.

'My thanks,' Pippin said, taking the cup, but he did not sip. Instead, he carried the cup to Haleth. 'Jack wants water,' he said. 'I daresay he needs it, poor fellow, after you marched him through the streets at a pace that brought him to collapse, and then made him wait on his arrival, for more than two hours now...' For the sun was approaching her zenith. Pippin wondered: Had Bergil found the King? Trust Strider to wander off, just when he was needed!

Haleth hesitated, and then his indecision seemed to fall away. He took the cup with a firm, 'Yes, sir!' and turned to the prisoner Huor and Gumlin held, lifting Jack's head with one hand while he held the cup to the old man's lips with the other. 'Here you are, Gwill. Here is your water. Drink, now.' The guardsmen under his authority watched with mingled astonishment and growing satisfaction.

Will watched as his father sipped, then gulped thirstily. His own mouth was dry, but a prisoner was bound to silence, and so he said nothing. He would manage.

Mayor Sam was of a different opinion. 'What about Will?' he said. 'Surely a cup of cold water for him as well...?'

Will wanted to say that it was well with him, even though it wasn't, but the gruff guardsman still flanked him and so he held his tongue. What a surprise it was, then, that Haleth refilled the cup and brought it to him, urging him to drink. A part of him wondered, even as he drank, if he would have risked a beating by disobeying.

'Set him down,' Haleth said now, and Huor and Gumlin sat Jack on the edge of the platform, still supporting him between them. It was a relief, however, not to be bearing his weight any longer.

Gwill's breath was rasping, and Haleth bent near. 'Gwill,' he said. 'How is it with you?'

The old man opened his eyes and smiled wearily. 'I am well, Haleth,' he said. 'As well as can be expected. I was up with my grandson all the night through, and had just managed to fall asleep when you knocked upon my door. My morning constitutional was a bit brisker than I am used to, and I ate little to speak of last night, and did not break my fast this morning... but the rope looms ever closer,' he glanced at the hanging corpse, 'and I suspect my troubles will soon be over.'

Haleth dropped his eyes, but the old man spoke again. 'Do not blame yourself, lad,' he said. 'I am reaping the bitter harvest of a foolish choice, sown long years ago and only now coming to fruition.' He looked to Will. 'I am only sorry that you were caught up in it all.'

Will tried to smile, and the old man nodded. 'Courage,' he added. 'Not that I'd expect anything less from you, my son.' He closed his eyes and sagged once more in his captors' grip.

'A healer,' Merry said, his tone decisive. 'He doesn't look well, cousin.'

'Not even under the circumstances,' Pippin agreed, and turning to Haleth, added, 'Send one of your men.'

Haleth saluted, glad that the Ernil i Pheriannath outranked him. When he was questioned by the Steward later this day, as seemed inevitable, he could truthfully claim that he was only following orders. Pippin could not have ordered the release of Jack and Will, since that would contravene the direct order of the Steward, but Haleth's orders had been to arrest the men and bring them to the gallows, nothing more. Technically he was already in trouble for releasing Robin, but the Halfling had had the right of things; Robin had been a mere child at the time Jack led the boys into the Shire, and so they could hardly in justice hang him for it, even though he was old enough now to bear the penalty.

'Yes, sir!' he said smartly, and found it difficult to suppress a grim smile of satisfaction.

Chapter 9. The Ties that Bind

Not all healers are to be found in the Houses of Healing; there are a number of them scattered about the New City as well. Tulerion was one of these. He'd come with the first of the construction crews, drawn by the promise of a new city rising in the North-lands, a new hope, a new life far from the Black Lands, far from the Black Gate where his soul had nearly shrivelled in horror at the sights he had seen. He came to treat crushing injuries from honest rock and timber, illnesses common among Men, slices from axes used to hew trees and not soldiers. He came to bring babies into the world, sons and daughters of woodsmen and stone-masons, and later farmers and shopkeepers.

Living near the Quarry Gate he seldom saw soldiers of the King, except those that escorted condemned prisoners to the gallows outside the gate, and these soldiers looked remarkably healthy and whole, unlike those that still haunted Tulerion's dreams on occasion, even this long after he'd left the Southlands. As for those wretches they escorted, well, these were beyond Tulerion's aid in any event. He'd never seen the gallows, in truth, for he had no cause to leave the city through the Quarry Gate, now that the quarry was no longer a quarry but rather a dumping place for refuse. The closest he'd come to that place of death was the stockyards, to bind up the broken leg of a butcher who'd been too slow in moving out of the way of a skittish steer.

Now a guardsman stood before his door, his breathing indicating that he'd come at a run.

'An emergency?' Tulerion said sharply.

'The gallows,' the soldier said. 'The Ernil i Pheriannath sent me...'

'What's one of the Little Folk doing at the gallows?' Tulerion said. He'd never met any, at least not on speaking acquaintance, but he'd rather formed the impression that the Halflings were sheltered from some of the more unpleasant realities found in the lands of Men, by order of the King.

'In the name of the Steward of the City, you are to come,' Gumlin said crisply. Well, it was close to the truth. Haleth and his men were under the Steward's orders to arrest Jack, Will and Robin and bring them to the gallows, anyhow. This was merely an extension of that, so to speak.

'Why don't you go to the Houses of Healing, in that event?' Tulerion grumbled, but he picked up his bag of supplies and, shouting over his shoulder that he was called away, slammed the door behind himself.

The gallows would not be his first choice of destinations, not on a beautiful spring day like this one, growing nearly as warm as summer as the sun passed her zenith, he thought to himself as they left the stone-built cottages behind and trotted through the kitchen gardens, and then he began to wonder. Had a guardsman injured his back, wrestling a prisoner into position? Had one of the Little Folk fainted at the awful spectacle of a hanging and hit his head in falling? And what were the tough-but-tender-hearted folk doing in such a place?

***

'It is the wrong track,' Bergil said, pulling up his mount.

'The second wrong track,' Balanurthon emphasised. 'Bergil, if this is some sort of ill-considered joke you may well find yourself at the end of my rope on the morrow.'

'I thought you told me they didn't hang guardsmen, but put them to the sword, rather,' Hilly put in.

'Hanging is an inglorious death, reserved for common criminals,' Bergil said.

'I'm sure the Steward would be happy to make an exception in your case,' Balanurthon said. 'Especially with the King away...'

'Then we had better find the King, hadn't we?' Bergil returned. He turned his horse's head and applied his heels where they would do the most good. They rode in silence back to the main road, and then Bergil stopped to consider the landscape, and how much change had been wrought since last he had ridden this way. Balanurthon was not much help, unfortunately, for he seldom rode this far out of the city. When he wasn't busy about the King's justice, he had a large and lively family at home to deal with, and his life was full, indeed.

***

'Let me understand you,' the healer growled, incredulous, taking in the situation at a glance. He looked from the earnest faces of not one, but three Halflings to the sergeant and then at the elderly prisoner who, though he sat on the edge of the platform, leaned heavily against a guardsman. 'You want me to gain him enough strength to stand on his feet, that he might be hanged, is that it?'

'Yes,' said one of the gallows guard, but Haleth was shaking his head and the hobbits were vehement in their disagreement. The other prisoner, a young man, stood pale and silent between two guardsmen.

'He has seemed unwell since the arrest,' one of the hobbits said, the one who seemed to be in charge of the situation at the moment. The Prince of the Halflings, perhaps?

'I should imagine so,' Tulerion said, one corner of his mouth twisting.

'We would like to save him, if at all possible,' another hobbit said.

Save him in order to hang him, the healer thought sourly, but he shrugged his shoulders to release some of the tension that bound him and forced briskness into his tone. 'Well, then,' he said aloud. 'It would help if I knew something of his history.'

'That would interest me as well,' the first hobbit said. 'I know something of him, but...' He turned to the other prisoner. 'What can you tell us, Will?'

The young man looked warily at his guards, and Haleth said, divining the problem, 'Speak.'

'You heard the sergeant,' one of Will's guards said, giving his arm a warning shake.

I grow weary of this, Will thought to himself. How long must we endure, thus? Hanging might be an improvement over the unwavering grip of this bulldog of a guard. He swallowed, for the single cup of water had not completely taken away the dryness of his mouth in the growing heat of the day, and spoke. 'He was injured in a fall, some years back, and very ill for a long time after.'

Pippin looked up sharply at this. 'A fall?' he said, thinking of a man who'd plunged into the roiling, rock-strewn waters at the base of the great falls near the city, when his rope failed him.

The healer spoke at the same time. 'Unbind him.'

'Unbind him!' the two gallows guards protested together, and then Falathar said, 'I'm afraid we cannot do that, sir. Only he who executes the King's justice may unbind him, Balanurthon or his assistant.'

'Or the Steward, or the King himself, I'd imagine,' Pippin said. 'The King ought to be coming at any time, but I do not think we should keep Jack waiting.'

'He'll be unbound just as soon as the noose has done its work, I'm sure,' Tulerion said. 'But you must loose his hands now, that I may lay him down in order to examine him properly, and then if it must be, tie him up again when the time is right.'

'May the time never be right,' Merry whispered to Sam, and the Mayor nodded.

'Duinhir!' Haleth cracked, and that guardsman moved to unbind the old man's hands.

Chapter 10. What the Healer Found Out

Tulerion laid the old man down as comfortably as might be on the edge of the scaffold and began his examination.

Pippin climbed the steps and crouched down by Jack, then sat himself down, easing the hoary head onto his lap. The healer looked up briefly and muttered something that might have been thanks, on Jack's behalf.

At last the healer spoke. 'A fall, you say?' he said, his hands gentle but thorough in their probing. 'A bad fall?'

Pippin looked from Jack's face, to Will's, and waited.

Will swallowed again and said, rather huskily, 'A bad fall.'

'How long ago? There are long-healed bones...'

'Ten years,' Pippin said, and the healer looked up from his hands to scrutinise the hobbit, and then down again.

'Yes,' Will said after clearing his throat. 'Ten years.'

'His rope failed him,' Sam said, and had to clear his own throat. How grieved he had been at the time, to hear that his son's saviour had been himself lost, and how he'd rejoiced last night, to hear that reports of Jack's death had been premature. And now... perhaps to see the man dying, yet unthanked, before his eyes...

Jack gave a chuckle, dry as husks rattling in the autumn breeze, and said, '...rope didn't fail. That rope never failed to do my bidding, faithful friend...'

'Delirious,' the healer muttered.

Jack's eyes opened and he stared into Pippin's eyes above him, and smiled. 'It's an Elven-rope, you know,' he said.

'So I've heard,' Pippin said, 'and I'd like to hear the story in full, some day, and preferably over a tankard of ale.'

Jack moistened his lips. 'Such would taste good, right about now.'

'It would,' Pippin said lightly. 'Shall I send a guardsman to fetch us some?'

Tulerion snorted. It seemed this hobbit could have whatever he desired, save perhaps the lives of these prisoners.

Samwise, however, stepped forward, lifting his chin above the edge of the platform. 'Why?' he said now. 'Why did the rope let you fall?'

Jack turned his head slowly to regard the Mayor. 'Because I told it to let me go,' he said.

'Why?' Sam repeated. 'To fall into the base of the waterfall, to be pounded against the rocks by the weight of the falling water... it looked to be a certain death!'

'Will...' Jack said, looking beyond the Mayor to his son. 'I could not let them haul me up, learn who I was. It did not matter, what happened to me, but that knowing me would lead them to Will... Though it was my fault he was in violation of the King's edict, he would bear the penalty nonetheless.'

Tulerion stiffened, knowing now why the man before him, and the young man standing bound but a few feet away, were doomed. Edicts were serious business, never lightly issued, and not lightly to be violated.

'We would have worked things out,' Pippin said softly. 'You had my pardon, even then, even before you saved my son, and the Mayor's, from those murderous ruffians. You had my guarantee of safe passage out of the Shire...'

'You wouldn’t know it to look at us now,' Jack observed wryly, his glance taking in the hanged man, almost near enough for the healer to reach out and touch. 'Just another fall away from death, and I fear that this rope will not be as accommodating as my Elven-rope. May the King find much joy in it.'

'The King...?' Pippin said.

'I heard Haleth say that the shop and all its contents were forfeit to the Crown,' Jack said. 'I'm sure the King would not leave an Elven-rope to the chances at the coming auction.'

'And your family left with naught, I suppose,' Tulerion murmured, drawn against his inclination into the conversation. Really, a healer was supposed to pay no attention to the talk around him, but bitter memory rose in him with his gorge, and just as difficult to swallow down again. 'As bad as the last days under the Lord Denethor, it sounds...'

'The King has returned to the North-land,' Pippin said stoutly, 'and his justice with him, and not a moment too soon, it seems!' The guardsmen stiffened at this, and Merry, noticing, shook his head. It seemed Elessar would have his work cut out for him, in more ways than one, if his chosen steward's rule had caused his people to obey out of fear rather than love.

'But you survived,' Merry said, returning to the thread of the story. He, too, had wondered to find Jack alive all these years later. He had seen the waterfall, on more than one occasion, a grand and breathtaking sight. To think a man could fall into that violent maelstrom and live...! 'How?'

Jack chuckled again, that dry chuckle that was painful to hear. 'I don't remember,' he said. 'It would make a grand tale, wouldn’t it? ...if one were not afraid to tell it. I awakened in my own bed, much later.'

'And how did you come from the riverbed to your own?' Pippin said. Jack's eyes turned again to Will.

'He didn't come home that night,' Will said quietly, without even a glance at his guard. 'He left early, to gather mushrooms, for it was the first day of the week, when you hobbits were likely to visit the market, and Turambor would split the profit with us.'

'I wondered how it was that the greengrocer had fresh mushrooms, and not a bad one among them!' Pippin said impulsively. 'It was a surprising thing to find in a city of Men!'

'I learned much of mushrooms in my days in the Shire,' Jack said.

'In the days when you were "Robin", before you became "Jack",' Pippin said. 'Is "Robin" your true name, then?'

The sergeant started at this news. How many names did the old man bear?

'Nay,' Jack whispered. 'Truly I am Gwill o'Dale, just as you know me, Haleth. "Robin" was a name that warmed the Shire-folk to me, in my early days, before the King's edict, when I wandered the Shire. A beautiful place, the Shire...'

'And then you were Jack,' Pippin said, a question in his voice.

'I ran afoul of a rather rough sort of men,' Jack said. 'They were bullying an old farmer and his son, Shire-folk that is, and I gave them someone their own size to measure themselves against... but as bullies do, they ran. Still, they spread word amongst themselves of a man named "Robin" to lay in wait for, to be taught a lesson, and when I heard of it I changed my name to "Jack" and "Jack" I remained long after.'

'Ruffians,' Merry muttered.

'They were that,' Jack admitted, and closed his eyes again, obviously wearied by the conversation.

'And so Jack didn't come home that night,' Merry said, returning to the thread of the tale. 'How did he come to be in his bed?'

'Rob and I went out in the early light of the dawn, with an excuse to Seledrith that we were going fishing with our father,' Will said. 'We'd heard the whole story that night--it was all the talk of the marketplace, how ruffians had shot the Halflings' escort with arrows, one brought down by Denny's sword even as Denny fell, pierced through, and the other escaped, stealing two children away, sons of Thain and Mayor; how the ruffian lost his footing, crossing the river, and dropped the little ones into the water; how he slipped and fell himself and was carried over the falls...'

Merry, watching Pippin intently, saw his cousin shudder and close his eyes briefly before turning them once again to Will. The wound was old, but Pippin's conscience remained tender. Pippin, pursuing, had cast the stone that brought the ruffian down, to fall into the river, and he still rued the death he'd wrought. Which was as it should be, Merry thought with a nod to himself. A hobbit should never take death lightly, no matter how much of his time he dwells in the halls of Men.

Will, his eyes on his father, continued, '...how a man came out of nowhere with a slim, silver-hued rope and saved the little ones from the river, only to be lost himself in the falls. How the Kingsmen found the body of the ruffian, but not the rescuer... Rob and I took our fishing gear and food and blankets and searched through the morning, below the falls, hoping against hope.'

Jack's eyes remained closed, but he was smiling.

'And you found him,' Merry prompted when Will fell silent.

Will swallowed hard. 'We found him,' he said. 'Somehow he'd dragged himself from the river and wedged himself into hiding under a patch of brambles. Bloodied and broken he was, and we might never have found him but for the sun glancing off the silver rope that was still around his waist. I wonder that the guardsmen did not see it...'

'My faithful rope,' Jack murmured.

'I sent Rob back to the city at a run, and I removed the rope and hid it in the bag with the fishing gear. We told everyone that our father had fallen while we were fishing near the base of the falls, and no one seemed to connect "Gwill" of the linen shop with "Jack" that the hobbits knew.'

'And so he awakened in his own bed,' Pippin said as Tulerion, whose attention had been drawn away by the drama of the narrative, bent to continue his interrupted work.

'Not for a long time,' Will said. 'He was like a babe, not knowing us, having to be fed and lifted, helpless as a babe... Airin helped us care for him, and Merileth, once Denny was out of danger, while Seledrith ran the shop.' Tears came to his eyes, and he blinked them away, for his hands were bound behind him. 'So wonderful they were, all of Turambor's family were wonderful; they took us in and made us a part of their family...'

'And so you stayed, despite the periodic danger of discovery.'

'We stayed,' Will admitted. 'When Jack found out that Shire-folk would be visiting on occasion, and among them hobbits who knew our faces and could identify us to the King as law-breakers...'

'Though we wouldn't have,' Pippin muttered under his breath.

'...he determined he'd sell the shop, and we'd go to Dale, the town where he was born. He had no family to draw him there, but at least it was far from the Shire and the hobbits who might betray us to our deaths.'

All three of the hobbits winced at this. Jack's fear had been all too real, as it turned out.

But Will continued as if he hadn't noticed. 'But of course we could not go, after he was so badly injured, and confined to his bed for so long, and then... and then... the roots went too deep for us to leave, after he could get up, and learned to walk again...' 

'And you married Seledrith,' Sam said, to change the subject.

'She married me, rather,' Will said. 'I could hardly believe she'd have someone like me, so small of stature, half a head shorter than herself...'

'But great of heart,' Jack whispered.

'You'd make a tall hobbit,' Pippin said. 'And you were just the right size, when Hilly was drowning in the freezing bog. Small and light enough to crawl over the branches Diamond had shoved in, to try to reach Hilly, and yet strong enough to pull him to safety.'

Tulerion shook his head at this. It was a pity the young man had run afoul of one of the King's edicts. He didn't sound like the sort to end his life choking at the end of a rope. The old man was likely to find mercy from the King, if Elessar were truly on his way. But the young man... A resolve formed itself in the healer's heart, that he'd help in whatever way he could.

Chapter 11. What the Healer Ordered

The healer continued his examination, and the minutes stretched long. It was his only gift to these condemned men, the gift of a little more time, and he meant to make as much of it as he possibly could. As he probed he asked quiet questions, ascertaining that the old man's last meal had been at noontide the previous day. The Sun had moved past her zenith, and as the healer poked and muttered she continued her journey down the bowl of the sky.

'Unable to eat the daymeal yesterday eve, was he? He'd fallen ill?'

'No' Will answered shortly.

'I'd wager you ate little or nothing yourself, lad,' Pippin said. 'And Robin?'

'Robin was persuaded that there was nothing to fear,' the old man muttered. 'Though they'd have taken him along with us, and hanged him, had you not defended him. I owe you much for that.'

'I owe you much more,' Pippin said. 'When the King comes...'

'When the King comes,' Jack whispered. 'I remember, in the old days in the Shire, what that meant.'

'What that meant?' Tulerion asked, curious. 'What did it mean?'

'Never,' Jack said, opening his eyes to meet the healer's gaze for a brief moment, and then closing them again in defeat. 'They said that when they believed that never would a thing come to pass.'

The hopelessness of this situation tried to settle once more on the healer's shoulders, and he shook it off, continuing his delaying work, his hands going over some of the same territory they had already explored, the midriff, finding no indication of any food taken recently. 'And did he break his fast this morning?' Tulerion asked, looking to Will.

'No,' Will said. 'We were up all the night, walking the baby and arguing. He thought we ought to run... I told him to take Rob and go. How could I run? How could I leave Seledrith, and the babe? How could I take them with me, into a life of hiding? Either way...'

'And so you're lost to them in any event. I'm sorry, lad,' Jack said. Though he squeezed his eyes tight, a tear escaped.

Tulerion straightened and Pippin said immediately, 'Well?'

Healer regarded Thain thoughtfully, wondering what might happen next, once he made his pronouncement. There was precious little to be done, actually, considering the circumstances. However, he had the feeling that when hobbits were involved, quite any thing could happen.

'No sleep,' Tulerion said, 'and no food since this time yesterday. A forced march, I imagine, from his home to the gallows?'

Haleth nodded.

'No use dragging along, letting him stroll at an easy pace,' Tulerion said, the irony heavy in his voice. 'And so he collapsed, used up, and looks fit to die.'

Will took a shaking breath, and was steadied by his guards.

'Not much here that a good feeding, a fair amount of drink, a modicum of fresh air and a reasonable period of rest wouldn't set right,' Tulerion said. Not that he expected any such thing to be done about the matter.

He hadn't reckoned with hobbits, however. 'Very well!' Pippin said decisively and looked to his cousin. 'Merry, you heard the healer!'

'Your least wish is my greatest desire, as ever!' Merry answered with a sweeping bow, and then he turned and trotted away, circling around the gallows to enter the Quarry Gate, the guards there stiffening to attention at his approach and then standing more at ease after his passing, though they stared curiously at the gallows and the men and hobbits gathered there. One spoke to another, and the latter saluted and left the gateway, entering the City. Tulerion figured that he shadowed the hobbit, though there was little danger to the Halflings within the city walls.

The healer didn't notice that when the hobbit returned, quite some time later, no faithful "shadow" followed him. He had bent once more to his examination, as if there were more to be ascertained. It was a delaying tactic only, and how bitterly he knew its limitations. At any moment he expected interruption. Inch by inch he went over the old man, bone by bone, even hair by hair, nodding and shaking his head by turns. It was for certain the slowest and most thorough examination ever made by any healer, and yet no one asked him why he took so long at his task, though the minutes stretched ever longer, even as the shadows stretched as the Sun moved halfway down the sky.

When interruption came, it was not quite as he expected. Instead of the sergeant's hand on his shoulder, urging him away, instead of guardsmen lifting the prisoner upright that his hands might be bound behind him once more, instead of the two doomed men surmounting the steps to the platform, the ropes placed around their necks, their last words demanded... instead of these things, he heard a welcoming shout. 'Merry! At last! I thought we should perish of hunger!'

And looking up, Tulerion saw first the looks of astonishment on the guardsmen's faces. Turning to see, he beheld Merry trotting at the head of a long file of serving men bearing trays and baskets, all rather startled at being led to the gallows, but evidently well-compensated for they followed the hobbit right up to the platform, where they proceeded to set out enough food to feed a small army and enough drink to float the Corsairs of Umbar, and they filled plates and handed them around to the bemused guardsmen while Haleth stood stunned.

Merry himself brought a plate to the sergeant. 'Eat up!' he said. 'By order of the Ernil i Pheriannath, who, as you know, outranks you.'

'I know,' Haleth murmured, his look as of one who has been struck by some spell of one of the mischievous faerie folk, walking in dream.

Sam brought plates to the gallows guards. 'Probably better than you had packed away in your bags,' he said. 'Hot food instead of cold, and all courtesy of the Master of Buckland.'

'They called his father "Scattergold", you know, but I think he's trying to outdo his father,' Pippin confided to Terulion and anyone else who might be listening. 'Here, help me sit Jack up, will you?'

They propped the old man against an upright, and Merry placed a plate in his lap. 'Should we feed you, or can you manage?' he said.

Jack wore a dazed look, akin to the sergeant's, but he took the fork Merry was holding before him and began to eat.

Will's guards had to release him to take the plates that were pressed upon them, and so he stood surrounded by men who were eating, and drinking from mugs that the servers deposited on their plates as soon as each plate had a clear place to hold a mug. He blinked, and swayed, thinking perhaps that he had fallen into a dream. Surely it must be a dream, that he stood alone, his hands bound behind him, while all around...

'But this will not do at all,' Pippin said from beside him, and as Will looked down, the hobbit tugged at his arm. 'Sit down!'

Will folded his legs, and steadied by the hobbit, lowered himself to the ground. 'That's better!' Pippin said, and then Merry laid a plate in Will's lap, and Will stared down at it. A dream, surely. As he reached for the fork that Merry held out, he realised his hands were unbound, and hesitated.

'Eat!' Pippin insisted. 'You've had nothing since noontide yesterday, and the afternoon is more than half-gone already!'

He ate.

He wondered, as he ate, though he hardly knew what to wonder. The time stretched out, and he ate slowly to enjoy the sensation. He suspended all thought, existing only in the moment, no future, no past, just this moment, now, each bite, the flavour bursting from the food as he slowly chewed, the texture, the sensation, the taste, the colours juxtaposed against the crisp white of the plate, green and deep red, brown and creamy-white, and the plate became his world, and nothing existed beyond, for if he were to look up... But he did not look up, to see the gallows before him, and he did not look to either side, to the guards that still flanked him, and he thought of nothing but the food... Rather hobbity, some part of his mind said, but he put that thought, too, away.

A mug was placed beside him, and he reached down and drank; ale it was, cool and smooth and satisfying.

He rather feared that the dream was ending when, despite his slow pace, his plate began to empty, but Pippin's voice came close, and hearty, and more food appeared on his plate, and he nodded thanks without looking up--for to look up was to see... but he put the thought away.

Pippin's voice stayed close by, and though he did not look up, Will heard him recounting--to his guards? To Haleth? Yes, he heard Haleth ask a question, and Pippin's laugh in reply, just as if this were a picnic on the green meadow outside a different gate of the city... Will heard him recounting the events that brought them to this place, here, and now. He wanted to shut out the sound but couldn't, and so he dug deeper into the creamy swirl of potato and tried not to listen, tried to think only of the warmth filling his belly and not the ache in his heart.

'...was escorting my wife and son to Pincup, a nice little community but rather inconveniently situated from Tuckborough. Hilly--the lay of the land, not the hobbit--hilly and heavily wooded, with tumbling streams and too few bridges. There are fords, but this was in the spring of the year, and most hobbits, if they were to travel at all, would elect to go the long way round though it took them a week or more. Good, solid roads all the way, and no fords!'

'So how did your cousin Hilly manage to blunder into a bog?' Haleth said.

'It had rained heavily, and the stream was running high. The trail rose abruptly out of the stream, and the bank was steep and muddy--too treacherous, Hilly decided, for my wife and little son, and so he led Diamond along the banks, looking for an easier way. At last they reached stretch where the bank dipped lower--as a matter of fact, the stream was over its banks there, but it looked to be easier going. He led them out of the stream and splashed through the water, turning towards the track they'd left, when suddenly--his pony half-reared and plunged, and Diamond's began to struggle, and they realised in that moment they were in a bog!'

Haleth made a wordless sound of dismay, and Will shuddered, for he couldn't help listening. He felt Pippin's hand on his shoulder, small but solid and reassuring, and he fell to eating once more.

'Hilly--as you'll remember, I told you that Diamond's pony balked, midstream, and Hilly took Farry on his saddle to bring him to the bank and then fetch Diamond, but her pony decided then to move...'

Will's rough-mannered guard rumbled an assent.

'Hilly's pony was sinking fast, and he knelt and then stood up on the saddle to throw little Faramir to Diamond, whose pony had floundered to safety.' Pippin's voice was tense; his throat had evidently tightened at retelling the peril to his son.

'What happened?' interjected the guardsman on Will's other side, when the Thain paused.

Pippin cleared his throat. 'His aim was true; Farry flew to safety, but the bog swallowed Hilly's pony, and threatened to take him as well. He managed to hook his bow on a branch, above, and held himself from sinking though the water reached his shoulders...'

'And so he waited for rescue,' Haleth said.

There was a short silence, and then Pippin said, more softly, ' 'Twas not so simple as that, my friend. The water was icy cold, and Hilly was frozen to the bone, immersed as he was... Diamond knew he could not hold out long enough for rescuers to find them.'

'What did they do?' the rough-voiced guardsman growled.

'Diamond dragged fallen branches to the edge of the bog and shoved them towards Hilly. She built a bridge, you see, for him to crawl to safety... but by the time the bridge was strong enough, he was too far gone from the deadly chill of the water and mud, and she was exhausted. She could not have risked herself, in any event, crawling over the branches to Hilly's side, to try to pull him free. She could not leave our little son alone at the edge of the bog...'

'And so...' Haleth said quietly.

'And so she sat herself down, to sing to Hilly until he was beyond hearing... but someone else heard.'

'Gwill--Jack, and his sons,' Haleth said.

'Aye,' the hobbit said. 'They came... Jack was too heavy to risk the branches, for they'd not only go down under the water under his weight, but into the voracious mud as well... But Will, here, he crawled into the bog as easily as a hobbit on an afternoon stroll and wrestled Hilly away from the bog, even though it tried to drown him, Will that is, into the bargain. Diamond said his head was under the water for too long a time, and she thought that both were lost, and little Rob was crying his brother's name when Will came up again, dragging Hilly after him.'

'You must not neglect yourself, cousin!' Merry broke in. He'd come up to them carrying two plates, one of which he shoved into Pippin's hands. 'I should say this is a better party than any we had at Crickhollow!' Beyond him Sam was eating, though that hobbit was keeping an eye on the soldiers' plates and mugs, and directing the servitors to replenish any that showed signs of emptying.

'Snowing food and raining drink, I'd say,' Pippin said, glancing about. The soldiers had been surprised into eating, used to following orders as they were, but surprised none the less. Likely they'd drop their plates if the prisoners showed any signs of getting up and walking away. Still, it was a good piece of work, serving the purpose of getting sustenance into Jack and Will and keeping the soldiers busy and safe from thinking, and perhaps determining to send to the Steward to clarify their orders, for Pippin, whether he held true rank in new-built Annuminas or not, had pulled rank on them, neatly stopping them in their tracks; but the Steward stood above all save the King. And from what Pippin had heard of the man, the Steward would not look kindly on having his orders countermanded.

As if conjured by the hobbit's thoughts, a new voice spoke up in tones of outrage and disbelief. 'What in the name of... What is going on here?'

A/N: Have you ever seen "Bells Are Ringing" with Judy Holliday? I can hear her voice in my ears at this moment. What a marvellous comic actress she was. "The Party's Over" was her signature song from that film. 

Chapter 12. The Party's Over

All talk cut off as quickly as the slamming of a door. The soldiers looked at one another, down at their plates, which they didn't know quite how they'd come to be holding, and didn't know now what to do with them, and then at the grim face of the Steward, the fever-flushed face of Hunethon, Balanurthon's assistant, standing beside him, and the expressionless faces of the guardsmen at the ready behind them.

'Clear away,' Merry said into the silence, and the servitors quickly began to collect plates and mugs.

'Are you all bewitched?' the Steward said in outrage, advancing on Haleth. 'This is a gallows, not a celebration hall!' He swept the area with a furious glance. 'You are all under arrest!' he said, and turned to wave the newly arrived guardsmen into the fray, and so Haleth and his men found themselves surrendering not only plates and mugs but swords as well.

Tulerion took advantage of the commotion to take up one of the mugs he'd held ready, between his feet, for just this contingency, and pressing past the guards flanking Will he thrust the mug into the young man's hands. 'Quickly,' he said, his tone brooking no contradiction. 'Drink it all!'

Will complied without question, and a near thing it was, for he'd just drained the contents when the mug was knocked away, to fall clattering on the ground, and his hands jerked behind him and bound securely by a muttering guardsman. Tulerion engaged in a short tugging match with a serving man over the second mug, as he turned towards the scaffold where the old man still sat, but it was too late--already guardsmen had pulled Jack onto the ground and were holding him up, that his hands might be bound. And so Tulerion poured out the contents of that mug on the ground, that none might drink it by mischance.

Merry drew himself up to his fullest height, staring up to meet the Steward's eyes. 'These servitors must go free,' he said. 'They were merely following orders, doing what they were hired to do.'

The Steward nodded sourly, waving the serving men away, and these were happy to gather the last of their baskets full of used cutlery and dishes and trays of emptied platters and depart, and Tulerion, though he was healer and not servitor, took up his bag in one hand and a basket in the other and departed in their midst, for there was nothing more that he could do in that place. He had done all that was in his power, and it would have to be enough. He expected no pay for this afternoon's work, for it was as the old saying among healers, Though the draught did its work, the patient died.

Sam and Pippin clustered together, watching the bustle, something more than dismay in their faces. Pippin knew that the whole had been a gamble; he'd had the same feeling as he'd learned in Minas Tirith, of rolling the "bones" between his palms and tossing them, repeatedly, as the stakes piled ever higher before him. He'd had no choice but to continue rolling, in the current situation, whereas in Minas Tirith he'd known when to take his winnings and quit, rather than risking all on a bad toss.

But the luck had turned against him at last, and Jack and Will were the losers.

It was difficult to stand still, but the hobbits could sense the fury radiating from the Steward, and rather than incite more frightful punishment to fall upon Haleth and his men, Pippin and Sam stood silent and still, and Merry joined them as soon as the servitors and healer were safely away. It was the first quiet moment they'd had that day, since Diamond had come shaking and weeping to Pippin, to tell him of the danger to Jack and the boys. He had wanted to soothe her, but she pushed him away, and as the story spilled from her in sobs he had understood and burst into a frenzy of activity, pulling Bergil and Hilly, Merry and Sam into the whirl before he took off at a run to intercept the guardsmen marching to the arrest. And now the cost was mounting... not just the penalty to Jack and Will, but the guardsmen who'd arrested them as well...

Haleth and his men and the gallows guards were lined up to one side, their scabbards empty, all standing at stiffest attention while the Steward stalked from one end of the line to the other. 'Balanurthon will have to hire more assistants, it seems, to handle all the floggings the morrow shall hold,' he said darkly. 'That is, if he is not found in dereliction of his duty. If that is discovered to be the case, he may just find himself testing one of his own ropes in an entirely new way.'

Falathar moved uneasily, and the Steward turned to the gallows guard. 'Well?' he snapped. 'What is it? Speak!'

'Balanurthon was called away by order of the King,' Falathar said tonelessly, staring straight ahead of himself.

'By order of the King,' the Steward echoed, raising a sceptical eyebrow. 'The King is not in the City.'

Falathar swallowed nervously. He'd already been promised a flogging, and he didn't want worse. 'Captain Bergil himself came, in great haste,' he said, 'and took Balanurthon away with him. Balanurthon was not here to perform the hangings when these prisoners arrived, not long after, and Hunethon...'

'I know where Hunethon was,' the Steward said coldly. 'I rousted him out of his sickbed myself, when word came to me that the King's justice was being disgracefully neglected this day.' He regarded the gallows guards with a thoughtful look. 'Captain Bergil...' he said, and turned. 'Sergeant, send word to the Citadel. I want Captain Bergil found and sent to me here.'

'Sir!' the new come sergeant said smartly, saluting, and spun on his heel. An entire unit, arrested and to be flogged, and who knew if their sergeant would draw a stiffer penalty than that! The Steward was in a foul mood, indeed, and he certainly did not want to fall afoul of the man.

***

Bergil was not at the Citadel, at that moment. He was riding at full speed, pushing his mount hard, Balanurthon's mount to one side and slightly behind him, both of them following Elessar's swift steed, running lightly ahead though double-burdened with King and hobbit. He only hoped they would come in time...

Bergil!' Queen Arwen had said in surprise, coming forward to meet him as he strode into the receiving room where she sat at tea with the wife and daughters of Elessar's kinsman. 'What brings you here from the city? Is there some message, some emergency?'

'An emergency, for certain,' Bergil answered, sweeping the room for sight of the King. But only women were to be seen... Any other day he'd have welcomed the sight. 'Lives hang in the balance, my Lady. I must find the King at once!'

'At once,' she agreed, taking his arm and turning him towards the door.

He had the feeling she'd read the entire story from his soul in one quicksilver glance, for she showed no surprise at seeing Hilly and Balanurthon waiting, as she walked with him swiftly out of the hunting lodge.

'The men are fishing,' Arwen said, and issued swift orders. It was not long before she was riding before them, leading the King's horse, to a secluded stream, the thunder of their horses' hoofs alerting the fishermen to their approach, so that the King stood waiting as they reined to a stop.

Seeing Hilly on the saddle before Bergil, Elessar's eyebrows raised in surprise.

'It's Jack!' Hilly blurted. 'Jack and his sons have been found out, arrested, and your Steward has ordered their hanging!'

'Jack...' Elessar said, for he'd heard but brief mention of the name, ten years earlier.

'The man who saved me from the bog,' Hilly said. 'The man who saved Farry and Pip-lad from the waterfall...'

'Arrested!' Elessar said. 'Why?' And in the next breath he knew. The man who saved Hilly from the bog... he hadn't known that Jack was involved in Hilly's deadly peril. He'd heard how the hobbit had thrown Pippin's son to safety, but not how Hilly himself was saved. If it was Jack who saved Hilly then the man must have been deep in the heart of the Shire at the time.

He lunged forward to seize the rein of his horse and leapt into the saddle. 'Ride with me, Hildibold,' he said, reaching to lift the hobbit from Bergil's saddle to his own. 'My horse is fresh, and we'll go all the faster.'

'Pippin is delaying them,' Hilly said. 'But I don't know how long...'

Chapter 13. At the End of the Day

'Very well,' the Steward said, turning to Hunethon. 'These unfortunate men have been kept awaiting their fate for an unconscionable length of time. The justice of the King is to be swift and sure, granting them death and that quickly, not tormenting them by drawing out the process...'

'Swift and sure,' Pippin said, stepping forward. Merry put out a hand to his cousin, and then let it fall to his side. He couldn't imagine how things could get any worse than they stood now. If the King did not return in the next few moments...

The Steward turned to eye the hobbits, and nodded gravely. 'That is correct,' he said. 'Swift and sure, and conducted with a certain amount of order, if they would go to their deaths with dignity. Not some sort of faire or festival, a mockery of celebration for what ought to be a solemn and sober occasion.'

'Swift, sure...' Pippin repeated, and cocked his head as he added another word. '...and... just?'

A shadow of annoyance crossed the Steward's face, but as he was dealing with the Prince of the Halflings he schooled his expression. Pleasant, but firm, and suitably sober in keeping with the occasion. 'Just?' he echoed, adding patiently, 'Of course it is just--that is why we call it "justice". These law-breakers knew the penalty when they chose to violate the King's edict...'

'Did they?' Pippin challenged. 'Jack knew, perhaps, but Will and Rob...'

'Perhaps I was hasty in adding young Rob's name to the death warrant,' the Steward said, with a slight bow to Pippin. 'I am indebted to you for correcting that wrong. It remains to be seen, removed from the influence of the law-breakers, if he will choose the upright way.'

Pippin bristled at this, but took a firm grip on his temper and said, 'And Will...'

'Will was... fourteen at the time, I believe,' the Steward said dismissively. 'Old enough to do a man's work, and old enough to be reckoned as a man for the choices he made. He and his brother knew that Jack was leading them into the Shire in search of the Thain's gold...' He stared curiously at Pippin. '...your gold. Hasn't there been a great deal of trouble over ruffians coveting your gold? Did not you and more than one of your kinsmen nearly die at the hands of ruffians?'

He looked to Merry and added, 'Did you Brandybucks not cooperate with the King in trapping the ruffians? Those law-breakers paid with their lives!' In frustration he added, 'I do not understand how you can plead for the lives of these ruffians! How can the consequences be death for some, but not all?'

'My lord,' Hunethon said, the urgency of his message causing him to break in. 'The sunset bells will not be long in ringing. If these men are to have timely justice, I must see to my duties now, or else have them marched to the dungeons until the morning light.'

'Yes,' Pippin urged. 'March them to the...'

But the Steward interrupted, saying in reproach, 'And have them wait through an undoubtedly sleepless night, more torment added to their lot? I think not.' And to Hunethon he said, 'Do your duty by them, as swiftly as may be.' Hunethon nodded and mounted the steps to the scaffold, where he began to inspect the ropes waiting there.

'But the King...!' Samwise burst out.

'The King will not thank me to find his justice so shabbily carried out,' the Steward said.

'The King will undoubtedly pardon these men and remit all penalty for their actions,' Pippin said through his teeth, 'if only you do not rush them to their deaths!'

'They have hardly been rushed to their deaths,' the Steward chided, and the hobbits had the feeling that he heard their protests not at all.

This was not surprising to Pippin, after hearing Diamond's story. She had been summoned to see the Steward, gently questioned as to the details of Jack's intrusion into the Shire, and dismissed. Turning back at the door, she'd seen the Steward sign and blot a paper, roll it and hand it to Haleth, saying, "You have your warrant. Arrest them."

Hurrying back to the desk, Diamond had asked quick questions, and had been quietly told that a guardsman had overheard the young hobbits excitedly discussing the revelation of Jack's identity and reported this fact to the Steward. Diamond had tried to tell of Jack's deeds, only to be "patted on the head and told to run along" in effect, and when she burst into tears of frustration and fear for the doomed men, the Steward had called for a healer to escort her from the room and "give her something soothing, poor woman, after her terrible ordeal."

'Will saved my kinsman...!' Pippin said, only to be interrupted.

'Yes,' the Steward said, nodding wisely. 'Your wife told me all about that, very clearly and earnestly. There have been known cases like this before, where a hostage warms to the hostage-takers, even takes their part...'

'That is not at all what happened!' Pippin said, and then he lost his patience completely. 'If you will not listen to reason, I have no choice in the matter but to...'

The Steward raised an eyebrow, however his expression became one of complete shock as the hobbit continued.

'...offer my life for his!'

'And I,' Sam said steadily, stepping forward. 'I offer myself in place of Jack, for he saved the life of my son. I owe him a life.'

'But you, yourself, do not owe Will a life,' the Steward said firmly to Pippin. 'If it were your kinsman standing here, I would have no choice but to accept, should he offer himself in place of Will, as you well know from your time in Minas Tirith.'

Pippin knew to be sure, which was one of the reasons he'd sent Hilly with Bergil. He didn't want to lose Will, but then, he didn't want to lose his cousin, either, if things went badly wrong. As they seemed to be going. Very badly, indeed. Where in the world was Bergil? And the King, for that matter?

The Steward was eyeing Samwise, however. 'Your son?' he said. 'I don't understand. Jack saved the life of your son?'

'And mine,' Pippin said, stepping back into the fray.

'I don't understand,' the Steward repeated.

'Ten years ago, on our first visit to new Annuminas,' Sam said, 'ruffians plotted to take the son of the Thain, to offer his life for gold...'

The Steward nodded. Had he not spoken of such, earlier?

'They shot down the guardsman who was escorting us that morning,' Sam said, 'though as he fell, Denny was able to strike down the bowman with his sword, leaving only one ruffian.'

'I remember,' the Steward said thoughtfully. 'The bowman was tried and hanged for his part in the affair, as is only right. And the other man...'

'He pulled the son of the Thain, and my son, from the tree branch where they sat together, and carried them away,' Sam said. 'I could not follow, for my leg was broken, but Pippin followed, and saw what transpired...'

'The ruffian fell while crossing the river above the falls,' the Steward said, 'and a man who'd been gathering mushrooms rescued the little hobbits from the rocks at the edge of the highest waterfall.' He shook his head. 'He went over the falls, and all we found of him was his bag of mushrooms...'

'That man was Jack,' Pippin said in an intense tone, and the Steward looked sharply from his face to Jack's, as the old man stood at the base of the steps in the grip of his guards, hopelessly waiting for the order to ascend.

'Jack was the rescuer?' the Steward said slowly, as if this were a new thought, difficult to comprehend. A ruffian, a law-breaker, a hostage-taker had risked his own life to save the young hobbits, evidently with no thought for himself or for profit?

'He was!' Pippin and Sam said together.

'I see,' the Steward said. The hobbits exchanged hopeful glances. They seemed to be making progress. But his next words caught them by surprise. 'And Will... was he there that day?' At their hesitation he nodded to himself. 'Only one man was reported, only one rescuer.'

'But Will...' Pippin said desperately.

Too late. He no longer had the Steward's ear; the man had already turned away, calling to the guards to pull Jack away from the steps. 'The King will want to question him on his return,' he said.

Just then, Hunethon called, 'Ready!' The Steward nodded to Will's guards, and they took his arms to guide him up the steps.

'No!' Jack choked, trying to move to Will, but his guards held him fast.

The hobbits echoed his cry, moving forward, only to be stopped by the sergeant, who was attending to details after sending a man in search of Captain Bergil. 'I'm sorry, sirs,' he said, deferential but firm, and several of his men moved in at his signal to block the hobbits from the gallows. 'You'll need to stay back.'

Pippin, arguing vehemently with the guardsmen, ducked his head to the side just in time to see Will collapse upon the steps, only the firm grip of his guards saving him from a heavy fall. Pippin managed to wriggle free and reached the Steward as Hunethon made the pronouncement, 'Fainted, apparently. I can't hang him like this!'

Pippin felt a moment of hope, but this was dashed as Hunethon directed the guards to turn Will on his back and lay him on the steps that he might be roused.

Jack, the hobbits, Haleth and indeed not a few of the other disgraced guards watched with bated breath, but the young man lay senseless, even after several buckets of cold water were thrown over him. A man in a swoon would most likely have wakened, and surely a man pretending to be overcome would not have been able to sustain the pretence under the onslaught; as it was, Merry muttered, 'Do they plan to drown him first, and then hang him?'

'You cannot do this!' Pippin cried, with the feeling that he was trapped in a nightmare, with no awakening in sight. 'Hunethon himself said he cannot hang him like this!'

'Well, Hunethon?' the Steward said.

'Well, I could, sir, but if we cannot get him to hold himself upright, he's more likely to strangle slowly than to be killed outright by the snap of the rope,' Hunethon said apologetically.

Pippin fought the urge to be sick, and looking to Merry and Sam's white faces, he knew he was not alone. 'You cannot...' he whispered.

The Steward eyed the horizon. 'Sunset bells will be sounding soon,' he said. 'If he refuses to cooperate, he must reap the consequences of his choice.' He shook his head and said regretfully, 'This farce has been stretched out long enough. Do your duty.'

Chapter 14. The Losing Toss

The guards picked Will up off the steps, turned him around, dragged him upwards. He'd have painful bruises on his shins later... if there were a later for him, which there would not be, to all appearances.

'You cannot do this!' Pippin cried again, pulling hard at the Steward's sleeve. 'You cannot!' Merry and Sam broke from the guardsmen that hemmed them in, and moved to flank Pippin, their expressions a mixture of defiance and despair.

The Steward looked down. 'I beg your pardon, sir,' he said. 'I do not understand your objection.' Now that it appeared that things were falling into place, he could afford some time to deal with the hobbits and their misapprehensions. They were known for their tender hearts, famous for their mercy (this reputation, of course, reflected men's knowledge of Bilbo and Frodo, the most famous of the Shire-folk, though the rest of the Travellers came in for their share of fame), and for the most part, woefully ignorant of the dangers of the world outside their Shire. Few knew of the patient efforts of the Watchers to keep them safe, over the years. These particular Halflings might know; they might have seen something of the larger world, but still they sprang from a simple folk. Never, it was said, had a Halfling taken another's life on purpose. How, then, could they truly understand the evil that was in the hearts of some Men?

'The King will pardon him, if only you are not so hasty in taking his life!' Pippin said, and Sam echoed him.

The Steward smiled and shook his head slightly. How did these Halflings think they knew better what the King would do, than this Man who had served him faithfully for years, yea, even while Aragorn laboured to safeguard the Shire, long years before he claimed the throne?

'The King may see fit to pardon the old man, certainly, as reward for his actions in saving the sons of two of his Counsellors,' he said. 'Certainly, it is not unheard of, to show mercy towards one who is old and infirm. There's little enough risk that he can do significant harm, even if he does not leave off his ruffian's ways.'

'Jack is not a ruffian,' Pippin said. 'He was never...'

'His son, on the other hand,' the Steward said ponderously, 'is a young man, four-and-twenty, is he not? To pardon him, to set him free once more... think of the potential harm, to set a law-breaker free, especially one so young and vigorous.'

'He scarcely looks vigorous at the moment,' Merry muttered resentfully. The guards were holding Will upright while the noose was fitted. Hunethon wiped his forehead with his sleeve, showing his perturbation, and bent to adjust the knot a second, and yet a third, time. He spoke to the guardsmen, and they loosened their hold, allowing Will to sag... and sag he did. With a sharp word from Hunethon, the guardsmen took Will's arms once more.

'Come along, you,' Hunethon said, frustration in his tone, and he straightened and struck Will full across the face. 'Do you want to feel the rope throttling you? Quick and clean, that's how it is supposed to be...!' This unresponsive prisoner was an affront to his professional sensibilities. Neither he, nor the Steward, nor the guardsmen, for that matter, could imagine that the poor man had been given a powerful draught, all unawares. It was not unheard of for a prisoner to pretend to be overcome, in an attempt to put off the moment of hanging. As for the hobbits, they knew only that something was very wrong. As it was, in any event.

'Cowardly...' one of Jack's guards muttered, and the old man stood suddenly stiff and straight.

'Never!' he said. 'Never was a word further from the truth of the matter!' And he stared, yearning, at his beloved son while his heart seemed to stutter within him.

With one prisoner securely restrained between his guards, and the other on the scaffold, the Steward saw fit to dismiss the errant guardsmen, who were marched away to their barracks at a slow pace, in disgrace, with their colours reversed.

Hunethon struck Will once more, and then stood before him, breathing hard, fists clenched at his sides. 'Very well,' he said. 'I don't suppose you have any last words? Now is the time to say them.'

But Will made no answer; he simply slumped between his guards. He did not tense at this question which signified the imminence of his death. He did not raise his head; he did not clench his fists or test his bonds.

'What if he is not merely being stubborn?' Sam said, plucking at the Steward's other sleeve. 'What if he's truly ill?'

'Then it is a mercy to him, if he's truly insensible, to do this thing now,' the man said quietly. 'Would you have me take him to the Houses of Healing, make him well, and hang him once he's fully aware?' He shook his head. 'If he is refusing to cooperate he will reap the bitterness of his sowing. And if he is ill, or taken with a fit, then it is a kindness to finish this before he rouses.' He signalled to Hunethon, and received a nod in return.

'Now when I say the word, release him,' Hunethon said to the guards, as he moved to take the lever in his hand, the lever that would drop the trapdoor away from under Will. 'Take your hands away at the same time, so close as you can together, that he might fall with enough force to finish him when he comes to the end of the rope.' He had allowed more slack than was usual, in hopes that the additional distance would do the trick, even if it meant Will would hang a bare handspan above the ground. 'Ready...' His hand tightened on the lever. He looked from one guard to the other, and as he pulled the lever, he said sharply, 'Now!'

Several things happened at once.

The trapdoor dropped, and Will with it as his guards released him, and Jack crumpled in the same moment, slumping in the grasp of his guards. Samwise's hands came up instinctively to cover his face, to shield himself from the horror before his eyes, and Pippin gasped and threw his arms around Merry, burying his face in his cousin's shoulder. The gamble was truly lost, and he knew not how he would face Diamond, and Farry, and Hilly for that matter, now that all was said and done.

TBC

Chapter 15. For Whom the Bell Tolls

Hunethon's worst fears were realised as he examined the result of his handiwork. The length of the rope had been just right; any longer and Will's toes would have touched the ground, conceivably bearing his weight, but certainly interfering with the sharp jerk Balanurthon had taught his assistant to aim for in a successful hanging.

However, despite the extra length he'd given the rope, together with the careful coordination he'd worked out with the guards, he saw to his dismay that Will's mouth gaped, as if he fought for air, and he could see the man's chest moving convulsively as if by sheer effort sufficient air could be drawn in. Worse, he could hear the painful sound that meant the rope had not completely collapsed the prisoner's airway, which, if the neck had not been broken on impact, was the next best outcome. Will was struggling for air, dying by inches, as it were. Sick, Hunethon stared into the man's half-open eyes, but he saw no awareness there. He hoped it was not mere wishful thinking.

He jumped as the sergeant muttered in his ear. 'You want me to rap him on the side of the head with the pommel of my sword? Crack his skull--finish him off quickly?'

Hunethon gave a nervous glance to the Steward, who was talking quietly to the huddled Halflings. 'No,' he said after a moment's thought. He didn't want to bring his apparent incompetence to the attention of the Steward, certainly not on this day of mishaps. 'No,' he repeated. 'Let him be.'

The sergeant nodded, clearly unhappy over the situation. 'Why did he have to go to his death in such a cowardly fashion?' he said under his breath. 'A good, clean death you would have granted him... What did he hope to gain?'

Hunethon shook his head. 'I don't think he was one of those, after all,' he said. 'I think, perhaps, he was taken with some sort of fit. Look you now, even now, though his eyes are open, he sees us not. It is the natural effort of the body you are seeing, but there is no fear, no panic, no... struggle in his countenance.'

The sergeant looked more closely, nodded, and turned away, ordering the torches to be lit in anticipation of sunset before calling to his men to form up. Moving to stand before the Steward, he saluted. 'Ready to escort the King's Counsellors to the palace, my lord.'

Merry's arms circled Pippin, holding him close, though the younger cousin stood so stiff and still he might have been hewn from wood or stone. Merry's thoughts were jumbled as he looked steadily at the bodies hanging from their ropes. His face was grim. 'We'll wait,' he said. 'We'll wait until his loved ones come to claim him.'

It was the least they could do, to honour Will and Jack. Besides, he thought harshly, he didn't trust the Steward where it came to Jack's welfare. The man would likely throw the old fellow into a damp, cold cell and not tell the King about it until the morrow, if Elessar should somehow return this evening instead of in the morning as he'd originally planned. It was all too clear that Bergil had missed the mark, had not been able to find the hidden hunting lodge where the King's reclusive kinsman secluded himself and his family.

Samwise had turned away after the first moment, and seeing Jack, limp and unresponsive despite his guards' efforts to revive him, he hurried to the old man's side. 'Unbind him,' he said, and there was that in his tone that made the guards hurry to do his bidding.

At that moment the sunset bells began to ring.

***

After the bells had tolled their evening song, marking the span of time from the sun's first kiss for the horizon until she disappeared, but before her glory had faded from the sky, a slow clip clop approached, and Targil appeared, leading one of the large but gentle carthorses. The great beast's head drooped sleepily; he was not often called out of his stable at this time of night, and he'd had an early morning, bringing produce from the farmers of an outlying village into the city marketplace before the market opened.

When his master stopped, he was contented to stop too, resting his head on Targil's shoulder and being rewarded by gently scratching fingers that moved along his jaw. His load was light, this evening, compared to his morning's work; instead of harness, a partner by his side, and a wain behind them, he bore only a pair of folded blankets on his back.

Turamir emerged from the back of the greengrocer's shop bearing two lanterns, already lit in readiness for the descent of darkness. And following him...

The greengrocer took a sharp breath and moved to intercept his middle daughter. 'Seledrith,' he said gently. 'Stay here. There are sights not fit for thy tender eyes, daughter. We'll fetch them home shortly, but...'

He could not see her features, hidden beneath a heavy veil, but his heart was torn as she spoke in answer. 'Do not bid me stay, Father,' she said, her tone harsh and brittle, as if at any moment it might break. 'We... we were married nearly two years, and we were friends before that, and though I feel now as if I never knew him, still, I go to honour what I thought he was to me...'

'Daughter,' Turambor whispered, but Denny placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

'It is her right,' he said.

The greengrocer closed his eyes in grief and swallowed hard, and opening his eyes again, he said, 'The babe…?'

'Fed, and sleeping,' Merileth said at her sister's side. 'I will watch over him until you return, Airin and I will. But I doubt that he will stir.'

'He rises in the middle night,' Seledrith said, 'but I imagine our work will be done well before.'

'Daughter,' Turambor whispered once more, and then he held out his hand to Seledrith, and she moved to slip her hand into his, and they walked together, father and daughter, and his sons followed with the horse, and Robin as well, with Denny at his side.

Chapter 16. Unfinished Business

'Cut them down!' the Steward's command rang out sharply. 'Must I tell you your business? The bells have rung!'

'He's not yet done,' Hunethon muttered under his breath, with a glance at Will. He nodded to the two guardsmen that the sergeant had detailed to take the place of the gallows guards for the rest of this day, and moving slowly, climbed the steps to the platform, walked across to the far end where the raggedly clothed ruffian dangled, and pulled at the end of the special knot to release the rope from the gibbet.

The guardsmen eased the body down, removed the noose, ducked under the platform to carry the corpse to the clear space before the scaffold, where they laid him. One guard unbound the prisoner's hands--no bindings were needed now. They'd wait an hour, and if no one came to claim the body, they'd roll him onto a litter and carry him to the graves that were dug and waiting in the wasteland. The grave-diggers worked by torchlight, the cover of darkness suited to their dark business, and they'd likely welcome the change from digging to covering-up, for only criminals were buried under the stars. Loved ones preferred burials under the light of the sun, and they did their own covering-up as a part of the ceremonies.

Hunethon wound up the first rope and hung it neatly on its waiting hook, and moving to the second position he stared down at the top of Will's head as he waited for the guardsmen to finish laying out the first law-breaker. He willed the high keening whisper of air, struggling in and out again, to stop, though he knew better. A man badly hanged might last many minutes.

The Steward was watching him, or else he'd have given the rope a sharp jerk in hopes of tightening the noose. If only the man would look away... but he didn't, and when the guards had ducked back under the platform, coming up in the hole left by the trapdoor under Will, he was still watching soberly.

'This one's not done yet,' one of the guards protested, taking Will's arm, but not lifting yet, to take his weight from the rope.

'Sunset bells have rung,' Hunethon said in a flat voice. 'We've got to take him down.'

'Tomorrow is another day,' the other guard said. 'What'll happen to him?'

'His name is on a death warrant,' Hunethon hissed. 'What do you think will happen to him?' He was in an evil temper. His head ached; his whole body ached, rather, and all he wanted was to crawl back into his bed with a cool cloth on his head and the door shut on the world and its demands, at least until morning, when he'd have more floggings to face than bore thinking about, and that just to start. He certainly hoped there'd be no other hangings, but then, his occupation had its busy times and its slow times just like any other. He could go days without hanging someone. The best thing about today was that it was over. Or nearly so.

Looking on the brighter side, if Balanurthon returned from the King's errand, whatever it might have been, then he could consummate this wretched business, and likely he'd break Will's neck on the drop, for he'd made a study of the matter, and had a name for competence in his grim profession.

Hunethon moved his hand to the tail of the knot and nodded urgently to the guardsmen. 'Take him,' he hissed. 'I don't want him spilling like a sack of beans onto the ground, not with the Steward and a horde of Halflings watching my every move.'

The guardsmen nodded and took Will by the arms, lifting him as Hunethon untied the knot with a sharp jerk, and then while one supported the limp weight, the other removed the noose. 'Poor fellow,' he said without thinking. And then it was duck-under-the-platform and lay the prisoner down next to the first.

They unbound Will's hands, and one of the guards whispered to the other, 'Why not just take him out to the fields with the other now? He's nearly done for as it is.'

'That would finish him for certain,' the other guard agreed, swallowing down sickness. 'Bury him alive? Sounds like something they would have done in the Dark Lands, before the light returned under Elessar.'

'That is not what I meant at all...' the first guard protested.

'What was that?' the Steward said, advancing, the hobbits in his train, having heard the name of the King.

'He's not done, sir,' the first guardsman said, straightening to attention. 'We were only wondering, what's to be done with him now?'

'Not dead?' Pippin said, hope warring with horror in his breast. 'But then... he's saved!'

'Saved?' the Steward said. 'I beg your pardon, sir, but I do not take your meaning.'

'He was hanged, as the law calls for, and survived. He has paid the penalty,' Merry said, his hand tightening on Pippin's arm.

'His name is on a death warrant,' the Steward said soberly, and to the waiting sergeant, he said, 'Detail eight of your men to take them to the dungeons. Balanurthon--or Hunethon--will finish the business in the morning, one or both, depending on what the King says about the old man.'

'Sir!' the sergeant said, and turned to give the order, but in passing Hunethon, who gazed stonily down at the bodies, he stopped long enough to whisper, 'Don't fret, lad. We'll lay him gently on the cold stones in the deepest dark, and if there's any mercy in the world his soul will give up the fight and fly to Mandos' halls before the morning light.'

'You ought to give up soldiering to be a bard,' Hunethon said sourly.

In the meantime, Jack's guards, at Sam's urging, brought the old man to lie beside his son on the soft grass before the platform, and Sam put his own cloak down beforehand to keep Jack's head and back from the chill of the damp ground.

'They won't finish the business, not if the King returns beforehand,' Pippin huffed to Merry.

Merry, however, wasn't listening; he'd heard the clopping of slow-trotting hoofs and turned sharply, only to stiffen in consternation. In the light of the lanterns borne by two of Turambor's sons, and of the torches that surrounded the gallows, he recognised Denny, and young Robin, and he could guess all too well the identity of the others with them, and the reason for the horse one of them led.

The little group of mourners, after hurrying from the marketplace to this grisly place, had paused at seeing the three bodies laid out side-by-side, and then Seledrith broke from her father with a gasp, running forward to throw herself on Will, clutching at him and sobbing wildly.

'Seledrith!' Turambor cried, following after, but he did not attempt to lift his daughter from her embrace.

Robin moved forward more slowly, Denny behind him, and stood a moment regarding Jack's still, pale countenance, before dropping to his knees, his hands covering his face.

Denny stared at the corpses in the flickering torchlight. Some trick of the light made them appear to be living, breathing. Strange it was, that only two of the faces were dark and distorted... but perhaps the old man's heart had given out under the strain, and there had been no need to hang him. Jack had been in fragile health ever since Denny had first met the old man, and his sons had taken great care of him, and only now did Denny know why.

Chapter 17.  The King Returns

Their horses ate up the distance to the City, although after some miles Elessar pulled his horse down to a trot, the beast tossing its head, lathered, and breathing hard, and the others followed suit. Hilly, as experienced a rider as he was, burned with impatience, but he knew that twenty miles at a gallop all the way... if they were too late, and they killed the horses in the bargain... it would be a double portion of bitterness.

'But I do not see how we will come too late, Hildibold,' Elessar said, as if he read the hobbit's thoughts. 'I was swept up in the emotion of the moment, but I have been thinking as we rode... I know my cousin, the Steward, well. If you and Bergil stole Balanurthon away without sending him word, there is no reason he would come to the gallows, to be outraged at the impropriety of keeping condemned men waiting in the shadow of the rope, prolonging their suffering in such a pitiless way. Unless word came to him, he'd have put Jack and his sons out of his mind just as soon as he signed the death warrant, and would have turned his thoughts to other matters.'

'Are you saying he rules carelessly in your absence?' Hilly muttered, feeling more than a little outrage himself at the idea of such an attitude--signing lives away... and then pouring another cup of tea and saying, "What's the next item of business?" Surely Ferdi had the right of it, and Men were ruffians, all. Some had a veneer of respectability, but most...

Balanurthon breathed a little easier at the King's level-headed outlook. ' 'Tis true,' he said, stroking the lathered neck of his horse. 'The prisoners arrive at the gallows, and if I am not there the gallows guards will send for me wherever I might be, for hanging takes up very little of my business. And since Falathar and Meneldor knew I'd been called away, and expected to return "momentarily" they had no reason to send for me, or to rouse Hunethon from his sickbed.'

'So you see?' Elessar said. 'We will arrive before the sunset bells ring and I will find Haldoron in his study, where he always spends the first few and last few hours of the day. I will inform him of my intention to grant Jack and his sons a full pardon, and then we will go down to the gallows together to order their release.'

'No need to kill the horses,' Bergil said in relief, patting the neck of his own head-tossing mount. It had grieved and frustrated him, the long search for the right track leading to the hunting lodge, and all the while wondering how long Pippin might be able to delay the Steward's "justice".

'It is a good thing you thought to fetch me, however,' Elessar said. 'We would not have returned to the City until some time tomorrow, and if Hunethon were to awaken in the morning feeling well enough to take up his duties once more...' The others shook their heads. It didn't bear thinking about.

They trotted along, giving the horses a rest, and as they went Elessar asked questions, and Hilly told the full story, as much as he knew, anyhow, of how Will had rescued him from the bog. 'My face was in the water, Diamond told me, when he reached me, and I was drowning, though I didn't know it at the time. Merciful sleep had taken me, ah, the numbing cold! ...and so I knew nothing of the peril, or Diamond's grief and distress, nor even of Will's courage, until some time after. Will pulled me free of the bog's embrace, and Jack used his Elven-rope to haul us both to solid ground, and then he picked me up and hung me over his arm as if I were a little child, and forced the water from me, until once more I drew breath.'

'But you say that Jack saved Diamond and Farry as well,' the King said.

'He did! They were wet and cold and night was coming on. He found a sheltered place and built a warm fire, and wrapped us in his and Will's cloaks and both of the blankets that they had, and fed us warmed soup. I think if he had not come along when he did, I would have drowned in the bog, surely, but Diamond and Farry would have perished as well, of the cold.'

'And Jack was the man who saved the little hobbits, ten years ago?' Balanurthon said in wonder. 'How could such a man be a ruffian?'

'How, indeed,' Elessar said, and nudged his horse into a fast canter once more.

***

The sun was making the tallest of the fair towers gleam golden with her evening's farewell when they entered the main gate of the City, and they had to pull their horses down to a walk in the congestion of workers coming in from the surrounding fields, farmers from outlying villages who'd come to the large city market now driving out to their farms once more, and citizens of fair Annuminas in the streets, pursuing a last spot of business before the sunset bells should ring and all the shops close.

Bergil pushed ahead, bellowing, 'Make way! Make way!' They rode slowly through the crowded entry, Elessar nodding to acknowledge the guardsmen's salutes. It was a relief when the crowds diminished as they left the Gate behind and passed the inner gate set in the wall that surrounded the palace grounds and the Citadel where the King's officers took care of the business of the realm, from defence to commerce.

Elessar dismounted, leaving Hilly in the saddle. 'Mind him for me,' he said, pressing the reins into the hobbit's hands.

'Bandobras, I am not,' Hilly said, but he took the reins and established contact with the horse's mouth, just as if he were astride a pony, and stretched his legs as far as they would go.

Bergil and Balanurthon dismounted as well, to rest the horses from their weight, after the fast journey back to the City. Balanurthon yawned. It had been a long day, and the shadows were growing long. Soon the sunset bells would be ringing, and he looked forward to returning home to a good meal, a kiss from his wife (and more, perhaps, after the children were abed), and the joyful greeting of his little ones. Ah, the story he'd be able to tell them this night, before tucking them into their beds! He idly watched the lamplighters go about their business.

A passing guardsman hailed them. 'Bergil! They've been looking all over the City for you!'

'Have they?' Bergil said in surprise.

'Yes! The Steward wanted to see you--immediately--and that was some time ago!'

'You're in for it now,' Balanurthon muttered.

'Thank you,' Bergil said, and not to Balanurthon. 'I'm sure I'll be seeing him shortly.'

'Are you going to the gallows then? For you'll not find him in his study.'

'The gallows?' Bergil said, his blood turning cold, and he heard Hilly's bitten-off oath. At that moment the sunset bells began to ring, their tolling usually a comforting call to rest from labour, but in Bergil's mind, now, a death knell.

'He was called to the gallows less than an hour ago,' came the cheerful reply. 'Some matter of unfinished business or other.' The guardsman slapped Balanurthon on the back. 'So, you've returned! They said you were on an errand for the King! Lord Haldoron was quite disturbed that you did not inform your assistant, to arrange for him to discharge your obligations in your absence...! But I guess you have a sufficient excuse to avoid his wrath.' He lowered his voice, and his expression sobered. 'Get a good night's rest, my friend. You've a host of floggings in the morning.'

'A host...' Balanurthon echoed.

'Haleth, and all the men under him. Come out to the "Swan" tonight and fill my mug with ale and I'll fill your ears with a tale,' the man said. 'But I have one more message to deliver before I go off duty, and so I cannot stop.'

'Do not let us keep you,' Balanurthon said, but Bergil was staring up the steps of the Citadel, wondering if he ought to pursue the King, to tell him of this chilling development.

There was no need, however, for the King himself appeared at the top of the steps, descending rapidly.

Elessar's face was grim as he swung himself into his saddle behind Hilly and took up the reins, and he said nothing, but turned his horse's head and dug in his heels, leaving Bergil and Balanurthon to follow.

Chapter 18. In the Shadow of the Scaffold

'By your leave, my lord,' Hunethon said diffidently. 'There are men in the stocks awaiting release.'

'Go,' the Steward said. 'Likely they won't thank you for your tardiness.'

Balanurthon's assistant snorted to himself as he approached the gate. Come early or come late, he could not imagine being thanked. His was a thankless job, but at least it kept the streets clean and safe and enforced good manners amongst the people of the great city.

The men locked in the stocks would have to wait longer, however, for with a clatter of hoofs a group of riders rode through the gateway. Hunethon ought to have been warned by the clash of the guards' weapons in salute, but his head was heavy, his ears ringing, and he wasn't paying best attention. He stepped to the side to allow the riders to pass, but only two of them did. The third reined in, and the next thing he knew Balanurthon had dismounted and was standing before him.

'Just what has been going on?' Balanurthon demanded.

'The prisoners in the...' Hunethon said feebly, meaning to say that the men in the stocks were still awaiting release, but Balanurthon interrupted.

'Did you hang them?' he demanded.

His assistant looked at him as if he'd lost his wits. 'Of course,' he said. 'Isn't that my duty? To hang the men sent me by Steward or King?'

With a muttered oath Balanurthon stalked towards the gallows, gesturing to Hunethon to follow. The men in the stocks would be very belated in their release, it seemed.

It was a pitiful scene to behold indeed, there on the grass before the gallows. Young Robin knelt by his father's side, his head bowed. Denny stood by him, hand on Robin's shoulder. Seledrith wept, clinging to Will. Her father and brothers stood a little behind her, waiting for the first waning of her grief. Steward and guardsmen stood to the side, silent, watching; Pippin had asked that the family be allowed to take their leave, and the Steward, moved by Seledrith's anguish, had agreed. The ragged ruffian lay a little apart, sadly distinguished by the lack of mourners.

The King reined in his horse and slid from the saddle. His steps were heavy as he approached the bodies.

'My Lord!' the Steward called, startled. 'We did not expect your return until the morrow!'

'Haldoron,' Elessar said, and stopped, looking at the dreadful scene that the torches illuminated.

Pippin stumbled towards him, flanked by Merry and Sam. 'Strider,' he whispered. 'You've come at last. Alas...!'

'Haldoron,' the King said again. 'What is this?'

'I apologise, my Lord,' the Steward said. 'These men were to have met their end this morning, in a timely manner, but were kept waiting instead, most of the day, through circumstances... had it come to my ears earlier, be assured I would have seen to their quick despatch.' He would speak to Elessar later, privately, about the interference of the Halflings. Truly they had no business sticking their noses into the King's justice! Elessar must set boundaries and make it plain to the little folk. It was for their own good, after all.

'No,' Elessar said. 'These men had the favour of the Thain, and had earned my pardon, for their deeds far outweighed their trespasses. Did the Halflings not speak for them...?' Though he knew the answer to this already. Likely the hobbits had spoken, pleaded, even offered themselves in the men's places.

'They spoke,' the Steward said, shaken. 'But I thought... I...' Elessar's face was hard and cold, even in the light of torches, and Haldoron faltered to a stop, no longer confident. Had he somehow been in error? These men had broken an edict of the King! The penalty was death by hanging. Where had he gone wrong?

'We will speak of this later,' Elessar said in dismissal, and the Steward retreated a step or two in confusion, while the guardsmen stood stiff and wiped all expression from their faces, wondering, perhaps, if their names would be added to the list of those awaiting floggings in the morning.

'We spoke for them,' Merry said, for Pippin in his grief was beyond words as he looked from Rob to Jack to Will. 'For all the good it did.'

'Jack,' the King said, looking down at the old man, and then to Seledrith, still embracing her husband. 'Will.' He looked to the ragged corpse and then back to Pippin. 'What of young Rob?'

'We were able to save him,' Merry said. 'Pippin had to threaten and bluster, but in the end they released him and did not force him to march to the gallows.'

'I am Rob,' said the kneeling youth. He stood to his feet, stood swaying before the King. 'My name is on the death warrant with theirs.' He gulped back a sob. 'Jack had the right of it,' he whispered. 'He said they'd hang us all, that there would be no mercy, and he was right.'

'The King is here now,' Pippin said, but the youth shook his head.

'You saved me for this day,' Rob answered. 'But what's to stop them from hanging me tomorrow, alongside my brother?'

Elessar scarcely heard; he was kneeling at Jack's side, taking up the limp hand in his own. 'But this man is not dead!' he said in consternation.

The Steward stepped forward once more. 'We were about to carry him to the dungeons,' he said diffidently. 'From what the Halflings told me, I thought perhaps you would like to hear his case yourself, on your return on the morrow. I thought, with him being old and infirm, that you might extend mercy to him.'

'And Will?' the King said.

'Of course I expected no pardon for him,' the Steward began. 'He's young and strong, and in no need of pity...' His voice trailed off in light of the King's stern expression.

Seledrith looked up. 'He breathes,' she whispered. 'How it is, I do not know, but I heard them say they'll take him to the dungeons tonight and finish him at dawn.'

'Hunethon!' Balanurthon hissed in outrage. He strode forward, dropping to his knees at Will's head, examining Will's neck and throat with a light touch. 'Neck not broken,' he muttered.

'Litters!' the King snapped, and the waiting guardsmen jumped to obey. 'Carry them, not to the dungeons, but to the Houses of Healing! And let there be no more talk of hanging these men!' He took a few deep breaths and added, more quietly. 'They have earned great reward with their actions. They ought to have been borne through the streets of the city in honour, not marched to the gallows in disgrace.'

'I... I... didn't know,' the Steward said, drawing a shaking breath.

'If you please, ma'am,' the sergeant said, bending over Seledrith. 'The King has ordered us to...'

'I know,' she whispered, raising her head. 'I heard.' But she did not release her grasp on her husband, and she stared at Balanurthon's careful probing fingers as if she expected some sudden move on his part to finish the work his assistant had started.

'Balanur?' the King said.

The executioner shook his head. 'Not enough damage done to kill him quickly,' he said. 'It was a sloppy piece of work, indeed, and my assistant will be reaping the fruit of his carelessness on the morrow...' He raked his assistant with a scathing glance. 'Go and release the men from the stocks!'

Hunethon gulped as he bowed to the King and whirled to trot away to tend to yet more neglected duty. If he thought he was aching now, a residue of the fever, well, by the end of the next day he'd be in pain from head to toe, every muscle afire, from the practice Balanurthon would demand, employing ropes and sandbags.

'...but there is a fair amount of damage,' Balanurthon continued. 'If you would, Sir...'

Elessar nodded and moved to Will's side, making room for the litter bearers to ease Jack onto a litter.

Seledrith watched anxiously as the hands of the King gently examined Will's throat, and as the King bent close to listen to the soft rasping breaths.

'Has he spoken?' Elessar said at last, raising his head to look into Seledrith's eyes.

She swallowed hard, never having spoken face-to-face with such an august personage before, and shook her head. When the guardsmen settled the litter on the ground beside Will, she clung all the tighter, forgetting for the moment that Will had become a stranger to her; he was her husband and the father of her child, and had all but been taken from her this day, and who knew what the dark hours ahead of them held?

Chapter 19. What the Dark Hours Held

Airin jerked awake, startled. She had fallen asleep at the table with her head on her arms, waiting for her husband and family to return from the gallows. Her first thought was for the baby, but no, he was sleeping peacefully in the box by the hearth, well-padded with blankets, warm and cosy. There had been no thought to find another cradle, with all the demands of the day and Seledrith clinging tight to the little one until the ringing of the sunset bells. Ah, well, a cradle was just a rocking box, when all was said and done.

Eliniel entered the kitchen then. Greengrocer's wife, mother to her own large brood, she had been mother to Airin since Airin's own mother died of shock and grief: She'd found her husband's head, branded with an image of the dreadful Eye, rolling on the streets of Minas Tirith as she was tending to wounded guardsmen during the siege. Airin had been only a small child at the time, hidden in the fastness of the Houses of Healing. They ought to have been sent out of the city with the wains, but that her mother, a healer, stayed, and kept her child close, not wanting to risk losing her to the raiders that might fall upon the fleeing wains. Surely there was greater safety behind the massive walls of Minas Tirith! It had been difficult to imagine that the city could burn, the Gate could be broken... but only the coming of the Rohirrim, and then the King himself, had saved them.

Airin had a faint memory of her mother, tall and slim, quiet and thoughtful except when her father was teasing. Her father, she remembered, had been tall, dark-haired, with a booming laugh... That was all she remembered of them, now but shadows dim in memory, that, and the sound of her parents singing together, the harmonies twining together in subtle beauty.

The greengrocer and his wife became her parents after that dreadful night of tumult, fire and smoke. They came to the great house where the orphans were gathered to await new families, and they took Airin away with them. The greengrocer was a cricket of a man, shorter and somewhat swarthier than the men of Minas Tirith, originally from Lossarnach, and his wife Eliniel was short and plump, though taller than her husband, a warm and motherly sort who'd joke about her lap "well-padded, that's right, dearie, sit here and shell the beans with me whilst I tell you a story…"

And when Airin married Turambor and Eliniel's eldest son, she became daughter-in-law as well as daughter by choosing.

'What is it?' Airin whispered, rubbing sleep from her eyes. 'Are they come?'

But instead of pouring the water, keeping hot over the fire, into the waiting basins, that Gwill and Gwillam's bodies might be washed before shrouding, Eliniel took down a basket from its hook on the rafters, one of the large carry-baskets suitable for a baby, and setting this on the table she went to pick up her smallest grandson, little Robin, holding the sleeping babe close for a moment before settling him, blankets and all, in the basket.

'What is it?' Airin repeated.

'An oil-cloth, daughter? It's begun to rain, and we don't want our little darling to take a chill...'

The catch in Eliniel's breath as she spoke would have been enough, but as Airin turned up the lamp she saw the tears on Eliniel's face.

'Where are you taking him? Where is Seledrith? What... what has happened?' Airin said, even as she turned to take a folded length of the waterproof cloth from the shelf and shook it out of its folds. She laid it over the basket and turned to Eliniel, expecting answers, but found herself enveloped instead in a fierce embrace.

'What has happened?' she whispered.

'O Airin,' Eliniel half-sobbed, and then she straightened and wiped her face with her apron. 'It is terrible...'

'Indeed,' Airin said, but her mother-in-law shook her head.

'Worse, even, than it was,' Eliniel said.

'Worse?' Airin said. She couldn't imagine, and then she gasped, and grabbed at Eliniel's arm. 'They took Robin? Did they take Robin? He should not have gone to the gallows...!'

'It's Gwillam,' Eliniel said, controlling her sobs. 'Somehow... the hanging went badly, and they cut him down still living, when the sunset bells rang.'

'Still living...' Airin whispered, in wonder and horror. And then her fingers tightened their hold, and she said, 'What will happen to him now?'

'The last time I heard of such a thing happening, they took the poor wretch to the dungeons for the night and then back to the gallows with the rising of the sun,' Eliniel said, her breaths shuddering in and out.

'O my poor sister,' Airin whispered, closing her eyes in grief.

'At least they've allowed Seledrith to sit by Gwillam's side through the night,' Eliniel said. 'A guardsman has come, to bring baby Robin to her.'

'You're not going to give Robin to...' Airin protested.

'Of course I am not!' Eliniel said, drawing herself up in indignation. 'I will carry the baby myself, thank you very much!' She deflated then, and said, 'and I will stay with Seledrith until all is over.' She looked up to meet Airin's eyes. 'You'll have to run the stand yourself in the morning. I... I am not sure just when we'll return. It is the usual custom to leave them on the gallows until the sunset bells, and I do not think I'll be able to pull Seledrith away from him again...'

'My poor sister,' Airin repeated in a whisper.

Eliniel huskily attempted a brisk tone. 'And so we might not return until after sunset bells tomorrow,' she said. 'Turambor will soon send the boys to their beds, I'm sure, for they will have to arise in only a few hours to hitch up the wains and fetch the day's produce.'

'Where is Father now?' Airin said.

'Waiting with Seledrith,' Eliniel said. 'And Robin is in Denny's care. He won't let anything happen to the lad, if it's in his power to prevent it.'

Robin's name is on the death warrant, Airin thought resentfully. If the Steward finds that his orders have been contravened, there may be no second chance for the lad... She didn't want to distress her mother-in-law by saying the words aloud, but meeting the older woman's gaze she saw grief and worry, and so she impulsively hugged Eliniel. 'We'll manage the shop,' she said. 'Have no worries on that account.'

Eliniel nodded and pulled away, and taking her cloak from its hook she quickly muffled herself against the night's rain. She took up the basket, but hesitated at the door. 'Don't let Merileth help with the selling,' she warned. 'She shouldn't be on her feet, so close to her time, and lifting...'

'Of course not!' Airin said. 'She can mind the little ones in the back of the shop just as easily.' She flew to the doorway to bestow a kiss for Eliniel's cheek, and to lift the oiled cloth with a soft blessing for the sleeping baby. 'Grace go with you, Mother.'

'And with you, my love,' Eliniel murmured, and then she was gone.

Chapter 20. Peace and Safety

Eliniel stumbled, slipping on the wet cobbles, surprised and grateful when the guardsman took her arm to steady her. And so they walked, with his firm grasp on her arm, supporting her and somehow lending her strength.

They passed under one of the lamps at the same time as another hurrying couple, the tailor and his wife, but in such a hurry under the pounding rain that there was really no proper exchange of greetings, no explanation, no time... And in no time the news was all over the market square, travelling from one shop to the next, hurried knocks on the door as the families prepared for bed, that the disaster was spreading, and the greengrocer and his wife had been taken away in the night, and who knew what the morrow might bring... and such an upright family! Candles were lit, and people gathered for sober conversation, and some determined that in the morning they'd come forward to try to speak on behalf of those arrested, though a risk it might be.

It was still a shock that upright old Gwill and his son Gwillam had been taken away, and if rumour had it right, hanged. The word was that they had knowingly broken one of the edicts of the King. Edicts were serious business, clearly laid out, and those who were law-abiding had little chance of falling afoul of such things. But Gwill, who'd lived the life of an invalid after an accident while fishing with his sons, and Gwillam, slight, short, and soft-spoken... Hardly the stuff that ruffians were made of... And young Robin! It was said his name had been on the death warrant. That merry lad...

Airin knew nothing of the rumours, of course. She'd gone to see to her little ones after hearing the oldest cry out in dream, and taking him in her arms she rocked, and tried to sing. But the music was denied her, and the tears choked her throat, and in the end it was all she could do to murmur broken comfort, as she wondered if she'd ever sing again.

Eliniel had ducked her head as they went along, trusting to the guardsman's guiding hand, for the rain was pouring in earnest, almost as if they'd walked beneath the great waterfall where Gwill had fallen while fishing with his sons ten years before. The place was bad luck, and the greengrocer's family had avoided the spot ever since. First the ruffian, and nearly the young hobbits, and then their rescuer, and the next day Gwill...

Thus it was a surprise to her when they turned in to a gracious archway of stone that gleamed white in the light of the lamps hanging in the entryway, no soldiers on guard, broad windows in the face of the building to welcome the sun instead of blank walls signifying a gloomy interior. As they passed under the portico, she gasped at the relief from the rain's onslaught, adding, 'What is this? This is not the dungeons!'

'It is the Houses of Healing, ma'am,' her escort said, releasing her arm.

'Houses of...' she whispered in horror. They'd offer poor young Gwillam healing this night, and in the morning...? She could scarcely take in the gleaming floors and walls that surrounded her. The Houses of Healing were for nobles and officials and those of the common folk who were too ill or badly injured to be treated at home in their own beds by their own known and trusted healers. Turambor had argued that they ought to bring old Gwill here, as a matter of fact, after his fall, but Gwillam, young as he was, had been adamant that his father would prefer to die in his own bed, in his own home, and so they had nursed him there. It was a wonder that he didn't die, but Gwillam had always maintained that it was home and loved ones that brought him back to himself, and to health, and later, when Gwill regained the power of speech, he had agreed whole-heartedly.

'This way, ma'am,' the guardsman said, and she followed, scarcely noting the turnings, until they turned in at a doorway. First she saw Turambor, standing behind Seledrith, and then she looked to the near bed and saw young Gwillam, his face purple with bruises, his neck swollen and discoloured, and the man bending over him...

'My Lord,' Eliniel gasped, with as low a courtesy as she could manage, what with the great basket of baby she bore.

Seledrith rose hurriedly to take the basket from her, and uncovering the babe she sighed. 'Still sleeping, my little love,' and set the basket safely beside her as she took up her post by the bed once more.

'This is my wife, my Lord,' the greengrocer said, moving to Eliniel's side. 'Eliniel.'

The serious grey eyes met hers, and she felt a shock of recognition. She'd seen him this close on a previous occasion, as he'd entered Minas Tirith after the terrible battle that had nearly taken the City. She had been carrying water to the wounded, and seeing him worn and weary as he entered the City, had on impulse hurried to meet him, dipping the battered cup in one of the buckets depending from the yoke on her shoulders. 'Water, my lord,' she had said, not knowing if he were captain of some visiting force, or a lonely hunter lending his sword to the defence of Gondor. And he had taken the cup, quaffing thirstily, and thanked her.

'Eliniel,' he said, and she had the feeling that he remembered, all these long years later, even with the many people who must have crossed his path since then.

'My Lord,' she said again, at a loss.

The other man bending over the bed seemed not to notice the interruption. 'Application of ice, for the swelling,' he said, his hands gently probing Gwillam's throat. 'He survived the hanging, but as to his surviving the night... His breathing... The swelling is constricting his windpipe...'

'Please...' Seledrith whispered, sinking down beside her husband. She seemed to have forgotten her earlier bitterness.

'Please,' echoed Robin from where he stood by the other bed, Denny beside him. And in that bed...

'Gwill!' Eliniel gasped, hardly crediting her senses. The guardsman sent to bring the baby to Seledrith had said that Gwillam survived, but he'd said nothing about the old man. How...?

'The King has returned,' Turambor said, holding his wife close, just as he had on another day, long ago, when all the bells of the City rang in joyous welcome for her new-crowned King, and the people shouted and sang. And then he added, 'He returned in time to save them, old Gwill and his son.'

'But...' Eliniel said, and stopped. She did not want to bring the death warrant to the King's attention, if no one else had mentioned it to him, and yet she felt as if they were all poised on one of the slippery rocks above the waterfall, in danger of a deadly plunge.

As if he knew her thoughts, Elessar said gently, 'Their deeds far outweigh their trespasses. Though they were in violation of an edict when they entered the land of the Halflings, the lives they saved there earned them pardon, and favour.'

Tears came to Eliniel's eyes, far happier tears than she'd been fighting all through the day.

Turambor's arm squeezed her gently. 'Truly,' he said. 'Truly, they are safe.'

There was a soft sob from Seledrith, and she bowed her head over Gwillam as the healer whispered instructions to an assistant, who turned and hurried away. 'Truly,' she said brokenly, 'if only he might live  through the night...'

...and somewhere in the depths of the Citadel, the Steward poured himself another glass of strong spirits, and stared into the candle flame, and wondered how he could have been so cocksure and careless, and condemned innocent men, upright men, who had won the King's favour with their brave and selfless actions.

Chapter 21. The King Takes a Hand

'Athelas, Berioron,' Elessar said, and the healer looked up and nodded.

'Yes, my Lord,' he said, and then looked down again, probing a last time along Will's jaw line. 'I think even ice would be of limited virtue by this time. It might slow the swelling, but much damage has already been done. He's getting very little air at the moment...' He rose abruptly and hurried from the room, just as Pippin entered, Sam directly behind him.

Elessar knelt down beside the bed, laying one hand lightly on the injured man's forehead, closed his eyes, and seemed to listen, to more than just the hard-won breaths.

At last he opened his eyes, looked up, and said, 'What is his name?'

'Gwillam,' Seledrith said in surprise, but at the same time Robin answered.

'Will. Our mother called him Will.'

And Seledrith bowed her head, and set her lips in a thin line, reminded once more that Gwillam was not who she had thought.

The King spoke the name softly, taking up Will's hand while his other palm rested on Will's forehead. He closed his eyes and spoke the name again, and frowned.

'What is it, Elessar?' Pippin said, starting forward.

'It is as if there is a veil between us,' the King said. 'I do not know...' He did not want to speak his concern before Will's loved ones, that if the man had been robbed of too much breath during the hanging, or after, that he might waken witless, or might never waken at all. It would only add agony to their waiting. He could perceive the living essence that was Will, but he could not reach through the mist that shrouded the man's thoughts, his self, almost as if he were heavily drugged, or like a drowned man too late revived, had lost some essential part of himself.

He laid down Will's hand on the coverlet, rose, and went to the old man. Robin stood over his father protectively, but the King smiled. 'Your father is safe,' he said.

Robin hovered a moment, and then stepped back, but when he would have bowed to the King, Elessar stopped him. 'I am only a healer at the moment,' he said. 'No need to stand on ceremony; it is a dreadful encumbrance.'

Elessar bent over the bed, and Pippin moved to the old man's other side, taking up one of the hands, his eyes on the face of the King. Once more, Elessar laid a gentle hand on a forehead and seemed to listen deeply. 'There is pain here,' he said, 'grief, and sorrow; fear, and old echoes of regret.'

'I am an old fool,' the old man whispered without opening his eyes. 'An old fool, and Will has paid for my foolishness.' His voice broke, and he sobbed. 'My lad...'

'He lives,' the King said softly, 'and all may not yet be lost.' But the old man turned his head away, and Robin stood as one turned to stone.

Healer Berioron returned in that moment with a basin of steaming water; an assistant, panting and out of breath, came behind him with a pair of long, dark leaves in her hand. 'Culled fresh just now in the herb garden,' the healer said.

'My thanks,' the King said to the assistant, and he took the leaves and bruised them, and a fresh and pungent scent arose in the room, and Elessar cast the leaves into the steaming water. All in the room straightened as the living scent filled the room, even the assistant healer, who seemed to find her second wind and, no longer breathless, smiled.

The old man took a deep breath, and another, and opening his eyes, he said, 'But how do I come to be in the Shire, and in the springtime?' And he gazed in wonder at the hobbit standing beside the bed. 'Pippin?' he said. 'Is it you?'

'It is,' the hobbit affirmed, squeezing the hand he held. 'And you are Gwill, or perhaps you would prefer "Jack"? But I knew you long ago as "Robin".'

'Long ago,' the old man agreed, and then he sat up, or at least he tried to, and Robin jumped to help him.

'Steady, Father,' the youth said.

'Rob,' the old man said, throwing his arms around Robin. He looked then to the King and said, 'He is safe? Truly?'

'As soon as I am finished here, I will sign your pardon,' Elessar said, as he soaked a cloth in the athelas-steeped water and laid it carefully on Will's throat. 'I have already torn the death warrant asunder, and ordered its burning by the hand of the Steward himself.'

'My thanks, my Lord,' the old man said, but his voice quavered as he looked to Will. 'My poor lad,' he whispered.

'In depths of night, all hope is gone,' the King quoted, 'but to return with light of dawn.' He laid another soaked cloth, and rested his hand again on Will's forehead. 'Sometimes we may find comfort and truth in the words of an old song.'

'Just like the hands of the King are healing hands,' Pippin said. 'I don't know how many times I heard that one sung after the Coronation.'

Elessar smiled, but his hand did not move from Will's forehead, nor did he show his perturbation at what he felt there.

***

Turamir and Targil returned to the greengrocer's shop after seeing to the comfort of the carthorse. It would be a short night, this night, and all too soon it would be time to hitch up the wains and drive out into the fading night, that by the time the sun peeked over the horizon they could be on their way back to the City with greenstuffs for the day's market. Just because disaster had struck their family, that didn't mean that the people of Annuminas would refrain from eating!

Airin was not in the kitchen, waiting for them, but then she'd have little reason to be waiting, after hearing the news from Eliniel when she'd come to fetch baby Robin. Turamir sent his brother off to bed and then took a turn about the building, making sure that all the lamps were blown out and all the fires banked. He found his wife at last, curled up with their oldest, both asleep, and no wonder. Mornings came early; for the greengrocer's family the day started halfway between middle night and dawning.

Turamir laid himself down beside Airin, pressing close and easing one arm over her, taking comfort in her warmth, and between one breath and the next he too was asleep.

Chapter 22. Of a Heart, Speaking in the Silence

The Houses of Healing, when you enter from the bustling streets of the City, seem hushed, quiet, almost secretive. People speak in low tones, and the healers and their assistants wear soft soles that whisper against the stone floors as they go. The echo of boots sounds overloud, and a visiting guardsman, for all his boldness in battle, will find himself making the effort to walk softly. And yet at night, there is always a rustle of movement, quiet talk, some sort of sound. This place is never so quiet as a tomb, though many would describe it in just such terms.

Even in the depths of the night there is indication of life. Seledrith, sitting at Gwillam's side, heard low moans from the room across the hallway which made the King raise his head, and a bustle in the hallway shortly after, and Elessar relaxed somewhat and went back to his listening stance. Just what he listened for, Seledrith was afraid to ask. Gwillam gave no indication of awareness, or even life, if you discounted the breaths that whistled in and out again. After the athelas-steeped cloths had cooled, the King had renewed the application and left the cloths spread over Gwillam's throat and jaw to cool again, and when ice had arrived, he'd packed the ice on top of the cooled cloths. It made Seledrith shiver to think of such cold against the flesh.

'Here, love, you ought to sleep,' Eliniel said, laying a blanket over Seledrith's shoulders.

She shook her head, looking up at her mother and forcing a smile. 'Little Robin will likely be wakening soon,' she said. 'I'd just be getting to sleep, only to wake. Why don't you lie yourself down, Mother? I promise, as soon as little Robin's satisfied, I'll take some rest.'

Turambor was snoring softly on one of the cots that had been set up to one side; it was common practice, when someone was brought in to the Houses of Healing, for a family member to sleep in the room and help with the necessary care. It was a bit of a squeeze, to fit three cots, but the healers' assistants had managed.

'If you're sure...' Eliniel said. It took a little more persuasion, but finally the greengrocer's wife laid herself down with a sigh, pulled a soft blanket over, and soon slept.

Old Gwill slept, one of the hobbits still sitting beside him--the Prince of Halflings? Yes, it was he, Seledrith thought, the one who had pleaded for Robin's life. No, pleaded would not be the right word. Demanded, that was a better word. If only he might have done the same for Gwillam. The hobbit was dozing in the chair next to Gwill's bed, though his small hand held Gwill's in a firm grip, evidently a custom among the hobbits when one of their own was ill or injured. The other hobbit had left the room some time ago and not returned. Rob was curled on top of the bedcovers on the bed beside his father, and someone had thrown a blanket over the youth.

The King had remained crouched over Gwillam, a hand on Gwillam's forehead, for several hours now, occasionally calling his name... "Will", that is. But now he straightened, and then bent closer, and very softly said, 'Gwillam?'

As if wakened by the sound, baby Robin stirred with the small gasping noise that meant he'd soon be calling for mother and feeding, but Seledrith headed him off by picking him up and cuddling him close, with a glance to the King.

Elessar never looked up; he was tense with concentration. Seledrith could only hope it meant good news. She carried the babe to the doorway and stood hesitating, but a hovering assistant swooped upon her at once, and it was not long before baby Robin was dry and snuggled once more in clean wrappings, and Seledrith settled again beside her husband to feed their son, with a shawl thrown over for courtesy's sake.

And yet the King never stirred, nor did anyone else in the room, as the assistant settled Seledrith and her son, placing a cup and pitcher close at hand, reminding Seledrith that she needed to drink in plenty, and promising to bring a meal along soon, for if she was not mistaken, Seledrith had not eaten the day meal, or had she?

The young mother shook her head. None of them had eaten, not even the two hobbits, which was surprising from the little she knew of that folk.

The assistant withdrew, and little Robin's whimpers faded as he latched on, and soon he was nursing, and most enthusiastically, with loud smacking noises.

'Gwillam,' the King murmured once more, and then he seemed to waken as if from a dream, and looking up at an especially noisy smack he smiled, and Seledrith coloured prettily and ducked her head.

'He's a good eater,' she said, feeling foolish, and the King nodded, still smiling, and rose.

'I have some business that I must take care of,' he said softly. 'Your husband's breathing has improved much.' He did not say that her husband was out of danger, for that would have been premature. But he had hopes, and Seledrith found comfort in his smile. 'There is an assistant just outside the door, who will be listening for your call, if anything is needed.'

'Yes, my Lord,' Seledrith said, nearly adding that she knew about the assistant, but not sure if such a comment might be construed as impertinent. 'Thank you.'

And so the King took himself off, walking as softly as a hunter, and the only noise in the room was the soft breathing of the sleepers, and the sound of the feeding baby.

At last, having emptied both his mother's breasts, little Robin was satisfied, lying warm and soft against Seledrith's shoulder while any stray air bubbles were rubbed away. She laid the babe in her lap, staring into the wide eyes that met hers.

'Son of a law-breaker,' she whispered. 'And I am the wife of one. What is to become of us?'

Gwillam stirred on the bed, the first movement he'd shown, but the others in the room seemed to be deep in sleep.

Seledrith leaned forward a little. 'Why didn't you tell me?' she said. 'Why did you let me think...?' Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat impatiently. 'Your father is a law-breaker, just as you are... not just the son of a law-breaker, but you broke the King's edict yourself, when you were old enough to know...'

She stared at Gwillam's bruised face, the blackened eye--had the guardsmen beaten him, then, after they marched him away? 'Who are you, really?' she whispered. 'I thought I knew you... but now... How am I to trust you, ever again?'

And she began to sob, stifling the sound as best she could, and baby Robin made a soft baby sound as he stared with wondering eyes, and Seledrith hugged the baby close and closed her eyes, and did not see the hobbit, the Halfling Prince, raise his head from his chest and regard her with thoughtful gaze.

Chapter 23. Midnight Conversation

Deep in the Citadel, the Steward looked up at the repetition of his name. 'Aragorn?' he said, and tried to shake the muzziness from his head.

'Haldoron,' came the quiet answer. The King walked over to the desk, picked up the bottle, and sniffed at the opening. 'Not even decent drink,' he said. 'If you must drown your sorrows, cousin, at least drink something palatable.' He took another glass from the tray, turned it over, poured it half full, and tossed it off with a shudder. 'Come out of this dark place; we'll open a bottle of what Meriadoc brought from Brandy Hall and talk this over.'

'The Hall's finest,' Haldoron said. 'I remember the look old Butterbur would give you, when you dared to ask for such fine stuff in his establishment. He would rather have served you... this.' He took a last gulp from his glass.

'The best a ruffian could hope for,' the King agreed, sitting down. He poured out into his glass and his cousin's once more, then, taking his glass in hand, leaned back in his chair and put his feet upon the Steward's desk.

'Even though we were as far from ruffians as...' Haldoron began, and stopped.

'As far from ruffians as those men you condemned, Haldoron,' Elessar said. 'How many innocents have you hanged in my absence?'

'Innocents!' Haldoron shouted, slamming his glass to the table such that the contents sloshed over his hand. 'A man, caught in the act of stabbing a sleeping drunkard! Three, who waylaid travellers along the road...!'

'Were they positively identified by witnesses?'

'Of course they were; what do you think of me--that I am such a fool as that? Why, then, did you ever trust me with the stewardship of the North-kingdom?' He gulped at his glass, and putting it down, wiped his splashed hand against his shirt.

'The three on that death warrant were positively identified by witnesses as well,' the King said, tapping the pile of torn pieces with a stern finger.

'What am I to do, my Lord?' Haldoron said bitterly. 'They were in clear violation of your Edict, banning Men from the Shire. To violate an edict of the King is death!'

Elessar, arrested in the act of lifting his glass to his mouth, put the glass down. 'Before you became Steward, when you were guarding the Bounds of the Shire, you exercised judgment,' he said in answer. 'You did not hang every Man who strayed into the Shire...'

'These were not hunters who strayed, nor herdsmen seeking lost animals,' Haldoron said. 'They were deep in the heart of the Shire, admittedly after the Thain's gold... ruffians, in other words, and a perfect fit for the term.'

'And while they were deep in the heart of the Shire, they saved the lives of the wife and child and kinsman of the most powerful hobbit in the land,' Elessar said. 'A perfect fit for the term?'

'Ruffians,' Haldoron said, 'Canny ruffians, not stupid ones. The old man had some knowledge of Shire-folk, and used that, rather than figuring he could triumph because hobbits were smaller and weaker as those Men might think who know nothing of hobbits. Once he realised his peril, he also knew that he had the perfect hostages to guarantee him safe passage.'

'The Thain's wife and son would have been enough,' Elessar said. 'He didn't need to risk his own son to rescue their escort from the bog.'

'Even canny ruffians make mistakes,' Haldoron said stubbornly, and leaning forward, he said, 'They were law-breakers, Aragorn! Deep in the Shire, without excuse, and admittedly after the Thain's gold!'

'And the only good ruffian is the one at the end of a rope,' the King said.

'Precisely!' Haldoron said, but he slurred the word slightly, and so he frowned and said it again, with more care. 'Precisely.'

'Just like the ones who shot down your son, and the other Messengers,' the King said.

'Exactly!' Haldoron agreed, tossing off the rest of his drink and slamming the glass so hard upon the desk that it cracked in his hand. 'Shot them down,' he added, 'shot them from cover, without mercy, just to gain their livery...' He raised his gaze to stare into the eyes of the King. 'To gain their livery...' he repeated. 'To gain entrance to the Shire, during the fever, when you lifted your Edict, at least in the case of your guardsmen, that they might enter the Shire to give aid and comfort to the Shire-folk.'

'But the Shire-folk themselves spoke for these men,' Elessar said. 'First Diamond, and then Pippin and Sam... and Hildibold would have as well, had Pippin not sent him to seek me.'

'And if Hildibold had spoken, had offered his life for Will's...'

'What, then? Would you have hanged the hobbit?'

'How could I, Aragorn? It would have stopped me in my tracks, to hear such an offer and to know that law and honour bound me to accept his life for the ruffian's.'

'Then it was Pippin's error, as well, that put Will at the end of a rope,' the King said, 'in sending his cousin away. But he did not trust you to see reason...'

'And why would he not trust me to see reason?' Haldoron demanded. He reached for the bottle and upended it over his cracked glass, but fortunately only a few drops resulted. 'Have I not ruled competently in your absence? Have you ever had cause, before, to question my decisions?'

Elessar stared at his cousin for a long and sober moment. At last he said quietly, 'Reports have reached me, that since the death of your son you have become hard, and cold, often abrupt and arbitrary in your judgments. Your punishments are harsh, and "justice" is not easily found in the North-kingdom, with the King away in Gondor. I went fishing with your brother, in order to discuss the reports, and what he said only confirmed...'

'Since the death of my son,' the Steward echoed bleakly, and it was as if he had heard nothing else. 'Two years ago, Aragorn, that band of ruffians murdered guardsmen for their uniforms, rode into the Shire, and very nearly murdered the Ernil himself. Had he not been wearing that coat of mithril silver a ruffian's sword would have pierced his heart. And the blow was struck with such force that the Halfling was badly injured, as it was. And false guardsmen--from that same band--intended to murder the Thain's kinsman as they continued to go after the shipment of gold. Deep in the Shire, they were, and after the Thain's gold! No different from...'

'A great deal of difference,' the King said quietly. 'These murdered no guardsmen, took no uniforms, took no lives at all. Rather, they saved lives...'

'Knowingly transgressed the edict,' the Steward said, but his heart wasn’t in it.

'And returned to the upright way, and trod it ever since. Gwill and his sons are highly respected in the marketplace... or were...'

The Steward's shoulders slumped. 'Or were,' he echoed.

'Why did you not listen to Diamond in the first place? You questioned her, you elicited the answers you were seeking, but you heard nothing else that she tried to say.'

'I'd seen it before... by all that is good, Aragorn, you've seen it before, when we were Rangers together, and we rescued those women from the ruffians who'd taken them from their families. They somehow lost their wits, grew sympathetic towards their captors...'

'I think, when hobbits are involved, it works rather the other way around,' the King said dryly. 'At least, in my experience.' He tapped the pile of torn paper again. 'And you are in violation of a direct order of the King, yourself. Shall I order your flogging?'

'Flogging,' Haldoron said heavily. 'I ordered Haleth and all the men under him to be flogged.'

The King nodded. 'So I was told,' he said. 'They must pay the consequences for allowing hobbits to distract them from doing their duty, but as the hobbits involved are likely to step in and demand to take the punishment on themselves...'

Haldoron sighed heavily. 'Interfering little...' he said, not finishing the sentiment for the King's eye was fixed on him, keen and bright.

'I do believe that justice is called for,' Elessar said. 'Dare I leave the matter in your hands?'

The Steward did not bristle, as he might have earlier, but instead favoured the King with a thoughtful look. 'I do not know,' he said slowly. 'Do you dare, indeed?'

Elessar rose and slapped Haldoron on the back. 'There was a reason why I chose you to be Steward to new-built Annuminas and the North-kingdom in my absence,' he said. 'Divided kingdom: whose idea was this monstrosity? I can hardly be in two places at once! That is why I chose the finest of the Northern Rangers to stand in for me, when I must be in the South.'

Haldoron sighed again. 'I do not know, Aragorn,' he said. 'I have failed your trust, and failed miserably. The people say that the King's justice is not to be found in the North-lands, while the King is in the South?'

Elessar said nothing, simply waited.

'And the Halflings,' Haldoron said. 'You were always saying there was more to them than they appeared. But that Bilbo fellow seemed simple enough, pleased to eat and drink and spout poetry...'

'You never took the time truly to talk to him,' Aragorn said, 'or to listen, for that matter. There were always ruffians and foes to be countered, and pressing ever closer to Bree, and to the Bounds of the Shire, and you were too eager to counter them, to sit staring into the campfire and listen to an elderly hobbit wandering from tale to tale...'

'I am not much for tales and fanciful talk,' Haldoron said, 'not like some of my kinsmen...'

The King laughed. 'What you need, my cousin, is a rest from your duties, I think, and more time for listening, and talk...'

'What do you mean?' Haldoron said, rising from his chair since the King showed no sign of sitting down again.

'I think that first of all, you ought to carry out the King's orders,' Elessar said with a nod to the torn-up death warrant. 'And next you ought to take yourself a long walk around the city, to clear the fumes from your head, and be sure that you reach the square before Balanurthon and his assistant, and Haleth and his men arrive in the dawning.'

'As you wish, my Lord,' Haldoron said with an unsteady bow, and taking up the torn pieces of paper he took his leave.

Chapter 24. The Whipping Ground

Some time before dawn (for the greengrocer and his wife had not yet stirred, nor the baby for that matter), Diamond entered silently, stopped beside the chair where her husband dozed, and reached up to place a light hand on his arm.

Pippin wakened suddenly, as was his wont, and looked over the side of the chair.

Diamond, knowing what he intended, all too soon, tried to smile.

Pippin took his hand from the old man's, slid down from the chair, bestowed a kiss on his wife, and whispered in her ear.

Diamond's eyes rested on Gwill, and she nodded, and as Pippin went on her eyes moved to Gwillam, and Seledrith, who'd lain herself down beside her husband on the bed and, exhausted, slept. She nodded, her smile more genuine, and taking him by the curls to pull his head down, put her mouth to Pippin's ear. 'I'll be happy to help,' she said softly, 'and now, I hope you'll be sensible and not do anything foolish...'

He beamed, and hugged her close, whispering in her ear, 'The King is here, so let the Steward do his worst. Have no fear on my account.'

'Elessar just might let you lie in the bed you made,' Diamond warned.

He tweaked her nose. 'At least it'll be bed and not a chair,' he said. 'Sounds much more comfortable, somehow.'

'Go on with you!' Diamond hissed, pushing him away, and climbed up onto the man-sized chair and took Gwill's hand between hers with a firm nod.

Pippin laughed soundlessly, gave his wife a wink and a sweeping bow, and left the room without a further word.

***

Balanurthon and Hunethon came very early to the square, near the centre of the City, where most of the King's justice was carried out. The gallows outside the Quarry Gate saw very little of the two men, as a matter of fact. Most of their time was taken up with the consequences of more minor crimes--flogging, branding, stocks, pillory. Some of the harsher punishments carried out in older times had been proscribed by Elessar when he came to the throne, such as amputation of the right hand of a thief. Nowadays a thief would be branded, and if he were caught at thievery again, wearing a brand, he'd hang from the gallows. At least the King's justice gave the thief a second chance and allowed him to turn his hand--both hands--to honest work.

It was not long before the healer arrived--each day one of the healers from the Houses of Healing drew the duty of standing by while justice was served, just in case his or her services might be needed. This day the healer was Arthad. He greeted Balanurthon and his assistant quietly and went to warm his hands over the fire that Hunethon had kindled in the firepit, ostensibly for heating branding irons, but just as convenient for the workers to warm their hands in the early morning hours, before the sun lent her warmth to the square.

A cadence call sounded in the silence of the early morning streets, accompanied by boots in marching rhythm, and soon Haleth marched his men into the square, called the halt, and dressed the double line to be sure that the ranks were razor-straight. Every man's boots gleamed with polish, as did their leather belts, even their empty scabbards. Everything that could be pressed was pressed, everything that could be shined was shined. They looked to be the finest of the King's guardsmen... just as Haleth considered them to be.

'At your ease,' Balanurthon said, returning the sergeant's salute. 'We must wait upon the Steward.' He cocked an eye at the blush of sunrise on the tall white towers. 'He comes belated, it seems, but best not to start without him.'

Haleth nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and moved to stand at attention beside his men. None of them relaxed from their stiff pose, but stood as if they'd been turned to stone.

Balanurthon nodded, his face expressionless to spare the feelings of the waiting men. He had no eagerness to start his work for this day, except perhaps the wish to get this unpleasant business all over and done with as quickly as possible.

A crowd was slowly gathering around the perimeter of the square, early risers and those who had risen beforetimes, for rumour had it that Haleth's squad had been found in severe dereliction of their duty, and the Steward intended to make an example of them. It was not that the people anticipated joy in the viewing, but more of a morbid curiosity that drew them, all unwilling, to the Place of Justice.

Two men and a woman were locked in the stocks to serve their daylong sentence before the Steward made his appearance. He was as carefully dressed as ever, as straight in his carriage, but his face bespoke great weariness as he walked slowly to where the whipping posts were set up and waiting.

Arthad the healer arose from his seat by the warming fire and took up his bag, walking over to take his stand near the whipping posts. Certainly he would provide drinks of water to those in the stocks, and even food as the day wore on, but the immediate need was likely to be here.

Haleth gave a nod to the first two men in the rank, and they moved forward as one, stopping in front of the posts, where Balanurthon and Hunethon bound them, hanging their wrists over the iron hooks depending from the posts, and then the soldiers bent forward so that the justice-givers could unbuckle their belts with their empty scabbards, laying them aside, in order to pull their surcoats, hauberks and undertunics over their heads, to hang on their arms, baring their backs, pale in the morning sunlight, gooseflesh rising as the fresh breeze stroked the waiting flesh.

Hunethon unrolled the scroll that detailed the offences of Haleth and his men and read the charges, and then he put the scroll in the box that stood ready to receive it and took up the lash.

Taking up his own heavy leather lash, Balanurthon saluted the Steward. 'Ready, Sir,' he said, and Hunethon beside him nodded.

The hobbits hidden in the crowd started forward, only to be stopped by the man in hunter's clothing that stood in their midst. 'Wait,' he whispered.

'Wait,' the Steward said, as if echoing all unknowing the hidden King's whisper.

Balanurthon nodded and lowered his hand, letting the lash trail upon the ground. It was customary, though custom was not always observed, for the Steward (or King) to say a few words before justice was administered. Sometimes this would be a warning to the watching crowd, sometimes an adjuration to the one undergoing punishment.

The Steward stepped forward, and to Pippin's gaze the man's eyes were hard, his jaw set, and the hobbit tried to pull away from the hand that restrained him, to offer his own back to the lash, rather than the soldiers that he and Merry had bewitched with food and storytelling. He was not the only one; when Merry had told the tale to Hildibold and Ferdibrand, they too had insisted on coming to the square, along with Sam, to plead for the soldiers, to offer themselves if need be, for the fault was Hobbits' and not that of Haleth and his guardsmen. But the King's hand held fast, and, 'Hush' came the whispered order, and 'Stand fast.'

Pippin looked up, to see Elessar, his face shadowed by his hood, staring at the Steward, his eyes glinting silver, and the tension of his shoulders told the hobbit that the King, too, was not completely certain of the outcome here. Yet he waited, though Pippin hardly knew what it was they were waiting for. He looked over at Merry and Sam, standing grim and silent, yet honouring Elessar's command, and then to Hilly and Ferdi, who stood uneasily, looking to him, Pippin, and he drew an unsteady breath and gave them a nod to verify the word of the King. Stay. And then his attention was pulled to the Steward as the man began to speak.

Warning: This chapter contains some rather graphic material. If you are squeamish, all you need to know is that the Steward redeems himself in the only way he knows how, at the moment.

Chapter 25. Consequences

Haldoron's voice was quiet, but clearly heard in the silence that followed the Steward's command to wait. 'Unbind them,' he said. 'Release them.'

The crowd held its collective breath as Balanurthon hooked the whip on his belt, lifted one guardsman's bound hands from the hook on the post, and pulled on the tail of the cord to free the man. As Hunethon belatedly was releasing his man, Balarnurthon helped his man to pull undertunic, hauberk and surcoat back over his head, settling the clothing into place, and then he bent to pick up the man's belt and handed it over. All then turned to give attention to the Steward.

Haleth held his breath. A few hours before dawn he had composed a succinct note to the Steward, leaving it on the man's desk that Haldoron might see it before coming out to the whipping ground, asking that his men be released from the punishment due them, for the fault was his. He'd had charge of the men; they'd followed his lead. He'd take his stripes. The fault was his alone.

The Steward met the sergeant's eye and gave a brief nod, and Haleth let out his pent-up breath in relief, though his stance of strict attention never wavered.

'You have heard the charges against these men,' Haldoron continued. 'To be found in dereliction of their duty in time of war would call for a sentence of death.'

The crowd waited, tense.

'But this is not time of war, I am happy to say,' the Steward went on, his voice mild, his tone reasonable. 'The penalty that I pronounced yester eve was mild by comparison: ten strokes for each guardsman, and fifty for the sergeant, reflecting his greater responsibility.'

A few grey heads nodded in the crowd, retired guardsmen, for the most part.

'However, I am grieved by the knowledge that a greater injustice has been done...' Haldoron said, and Haleth tensed again, wondering what this might mean. Greater injustice? Greater penalty?

Haldoron slowly drew from under his cloak a folded paper. The hobbits hidden in the crowd craned to see around the tall men in front of them. The Steward unfolded the paper, revealing its contents: torn strips of paper, one piece still bearing a wax seal as bright as a drop of blood.

'This is a death warrant,' the Steward said solemnly.

He had the crowd's full attention. Had Haleth been condemned for his dereliction? Why was the warrant torn?

'There are three names on this warrant,' Haldoron continued. 'Three who were condemned to hang, by the word of reliable witnesses. Haleth and his men escorted them to the gallows, and guarded them there, awaiting the executioner.'

A murmur rustled through the crowd like a sudden breeze, and then all were still again. Rumour had said that the youngest, a youth, had been spared, but now... had he been hanged as well?

'Three who, by the word of the same witnesses, ought to have been held for examination by the King. As it was, the King wrote out a pardon for the three condemned men, early this morning.'

'Great good it does them now,' one old soldier whispered to another.

'Haleth and his men were... distracted from their duty by the interference... intervention of those who knew that the condemned men had earned the pardon of the King, the remission of all penalty because of their courageous and selfless actions. While Haleth and his men were clearly in neglect of their duty, the fault does not lie with them. Had they done their duty, three upright citizens would lie dead this morning, their lives unjustly taken.'

Someone moved uneasily; such was the silence on the square that the scrape of his boot against the stones echoed clearly.

'As it is,' the Steward continued, 'two of them lie in the Houses of Healing, even now, and one of them near death. And all because your Steward would not listen to the witnesses, because he was neglecting his own duty... my own duty...' he amended, 'to see justice done.'

As the crowd watched in wonder, the Steward walked to the firepit and laid the torn-up death warrant upon the coals, where the paper caught quickly. The blood-red wax of the seal melted and ran, as if the paper bled, and then flared up, bright and brief its passing.

'And so,' the Steward said, 'I am here this morning to see justice done. It is my last official act as Steward to the North-kingdom.'

Elessar's hand tightened on Pippin's shoulder. Pippin himself was breathing shallowly, wondering what it all meant.

Haldoron turned to Balanurthon. 'I will pay their penalty; I will take their stripes,' he said.

One of the retired guardsmen standing near the hobbits muffled an oath. One hundred fifty lashes!

'Sir,' Balanurthon said unsteadily, but Haldoron was holding out his hands to be bound, and rather than to be found in neglect of his duty, Balanurthon found himself automatically binding the Steward's wrists.

Haldoron walked to one of the posts and lifted his hands, laying the binding cord over the hook, and bent his head. With a look from Balanurthon, Hunethon removed the Steward's cloak, folded it over his arm and laid it aside, removed the Steward's belt and lifted Haldoron's tunic over his head, to rest on his arms.

Pippin fought a sudden sickness and felt Merry take his hand. The King bent to murmur, 'You are not the only one whose cousin was taken by Orcs.' It did not matter which of the two hobbits he addressed. Sam bit his lip hard, and Ferdi and Hilly turned away from the scars revealed on the Steward's battered body.

'You cannot,' Pippin said, and the words were a nightmare echo from the previous day.

But, 'Wait,' was the King's answer.

Balanurthon took his stance to one side, nodding to his assistant to take up his own station. Samwise squeezed his eyes shut as the flogging began, but he jumped at every painful sound--each blow a reminder of Frodo in the tower--though the Steward himself made no outcry. The other hobbits watched in horror, and Ferdibrand grabbed at Pippin's arm. 'Can we not stop...?' he began, but a fierce glance from the Thain stifled the rest of his protest. They were not in the Shire. This was the justice of Men, if you could call it justice. As for the man in their midst, he stood, stiff and silent, as if he were a mere statue and not a man.

As the measured blows continued, Haleth's hands clenched to fists. He'd take his fifty whacks, he would, even if it meant countering a direct command of the Steward. What would the man do, after all, double the strokes due him?

The alternating lashes were drawing blood now, not merely leaving weals, and Balanurthon's lips were set in a thin line, his face like stone, when the Steward slumped under the punishment.

Immediately Hunethon straightened, his lash hanging at his side, and he looked a question at his superior. It hardly seemed meet to throw a bucket of cold water over the Steward, to revive him, that the flogging might continue.

Arthad moved in, conducted a brief examination, and looked up as the Steward stiffened under his gentle touch. 'He's awake,' he said, and stepped back. Though his instinct was to begin to treat the bleeding slashes at once, he knew he must wait until all was done and the man's hands unbound. Then they'd sit him down--or lie him--upon one of the stone blocks that waited nearby.

Hunethon and Balanurthon straightened and raised their arms once more, to resume the slow and dreadful count, and Haleth was about to call out, to demand his own due, when a man pushed to the front of the crowd, a small group of hobbits in his train.

'Stay your lashes,' he said, pulling back his hood and opening his cloak to reveal... mail-clad and girt in silver: the King! 'It is enough,' he said. 'Justice has been served.'

'But,' the Steward slurred, wagging his head weakly in protest.

'You have paid for your dereliction; it is enough--more than enough,' Elessar said, no room for contradiction in his tone. 'Let the healing begin.'

Chapter 26. Missions of Mercy

The King moved to Haldoron's side, supporting him as Balanurthon released the binding cord, and together King and Healer half-carried the Steward to the stone block, where Hunethon had already spread Haldoron's cloak. They laid him down on his face, and together Arthad and Elessar began, as gently as possible, to wipe away the blood, to smear salve over the broken skin, and finally to bind a large dressing over all.

By the time they were finished with the task, the crowd had nearly dispersed. Soon the news would be all over the city. The Steward--steward no longer, or so he'd said--had taken the punishment he'd handed out for Haleth and his men. He'd burned the death warrant against Gwill and his sons. Indeed, the King had pardoned them! And somehow the news had already got out, that Gwill was the mysterious rescuer, ten years before, of the young sons of the visiting Halflings. It was no wonder that he had earned the King's gratitude and pardon!

Actually, no one could believe Gwill or either of his sons had ever been law-breakers to begin with.

'Sergeant Haleth!' Elessar said, straightening.

'My Lord!' Haleth responded sharply, snapping to attention. He and his men had not yet been dismissed, and so they still stood in their razor-straight lines.

'Carry the Steward to the Houses of Healing,' Elessar said.

'Sir! Yes, Sir!' Haleth rapped out, and it was not long before they were easing Haldoron, face-down, onto a litter.

'Not Steward, not any longer,' Haldoron muttered. The draught they'd urged him to drink was taking effect. Dratted healers.

'I have not yet accepted your resignation,' Elessar bent to murmur. 'My Counsellors will accompany you, and be assured they will interfere if they find anything to object to along the way.'

'I have it on good authority that we are very interfering folk,' Pippin added, for the hobbits had crowded after the King, to observe Elessar's healing hands, and Arthad's, at work.

'Very kind of them, I'm sure,' Haldoron said faintly, and then his eyes closed and he spoke no more.

Haleth and three of his men bore the litter as gently as might be through the streets to the Houses of Healing, surrounded by an honour guard of hobbits, encircled by the rest of Haleth's men, forging their way and keeping back the curious and any onlookers. Truth be told, the guardsmen were on their best behaviour. After all, it was two of these same hobbits who had landed them in such terrible straits in the first place. They did not want to make any more missteps, for certain, even if the Steward had excused himself from his office and was drugged to sleep into the bargain.

***

Elessar, returning to the Citadel, found a small, nervous, but determined group of merchants standing at the Gates, waiting.

Curiosity moved him to inquire as to their business. 'Waiting to see the Steward, my Lord,' the gate guard said. 'I told them he'd gone out, but they insist on waiting.'

'Perhaps the King will do instead,' Elessar said, nodding in response to the merchants' bows.

'My Lord,' the tailor said, stammering over the words. He had spoken with the King in the marketplace, for certain, but that was business and this was... this was... 'It's a matter of justice, my Lord.'

'Justice?' Elessar said politely. 'Would you like to come in, sit down and tell me your story?'

'N-no need to bother you, my Lord,' the tailor said, but his wife beside him was wringing her apron in her hands, and their companions were clearly ill at ease.

'How many more will they take away?' a woman burst out, to be hushed by her husband.

'Take away?' Elessar said, while the woman blushed and blinked away tears. He swept the little delegation, returning to the tailor, who seemed to be their spokesman. 'Who has been taken away?'

'Turambor, the greengrocer,' the tailor ventured timidly. 'And... and his wife.'

'And they said that young Robin was arrested last night, even after the Ernil argued for his life,' the outspoken woman said, thrusting her way back into the conversation. 'Gwill,' she said, 'and Gwillam, taken away and hanged,' and the tears started from her eyes, and several of the other women stifled sobs while their husbands looked very sober indeed, 'and now they've taken Robin away, and Turambor and Eliniel, and Seledrith and even the baby...!'

'And Denny,' someone said. 'He never returned from the gallows last night.'

'There are no babies in the dungeon,' Elessar said, 'at least there weren't, the last time I looked.' But the merchants and their wives hardly looked reassured. 'Go back to your shops and stands,' he said. 'Gwillam was hanged yesterday, true, but somehow he was saved, and is now in the Houses of Healing, surrounded by his family, including old Gwill and young Robin, who were not hanged, nor are likely to be.'

'In the Houses of Healing?' the tailor said. It was almost too good to be true. But this was the King! The King had returned, and it seemed that justice had returned with him, to the North-kingdom.

'They are,' Elessar said with a firm nod. 'And when Gwillam is sufficiently healed, he will return with his wife and family to the linen shop, and Seledrith will undoubtedly pick up her needle once more and continue to stitch the finest handkerchiefs to be found in the kingdom, North, or South!'

'O thank you, my Lord! Thank you!' the tailor effused, echoed by his followers, and the tailor's wife seized the King's hand and laid a fervent kiss there. With a bubbling over of joy and gratitude, the merchants bowed themselves away.

It was not long before the good news was all over the marketplace, and spreading from there over the whole city.

***

There were two more floggings to be administered, held over from the previous day, and a branding as well, but all were soon quickly and efficiently dispatched, after which Balanurthon and his assistant left the square with a word to the healer as to their anticipated whereabouts for the rest of the day. A quick check at the gallows outside the Quarry Gate showed only the gallows guards, happily bored, and no condemned men awaiting their fate. The men and woman in the stocks would not need release until sunset, and in the meantime Arthad would be watching over them.

Balanurthon and his assistant took themselves off to a public house not far from the Quarry Gate and had an early nuncheon, accompanied by a good, stiff drink for each.

And then, as promised, Balanurthon worked Hunethon until the latter's arms threatened to fall from their sockets. But the assistant learned how to hang a sandbag that day, and with great effectiveness and a deadly snap of the rope.

He certainly hoped his hard-won skill would not be needed any time soon.

Balanurthon, of course, was in complete agreement.

Chapter 27. For Old Times' Sake

When they reached the Houses of Healing, the litter-bearers halted while Haleth conferred with the healer's assistant who was stationed near the entrance to receive visitors and the like. Pippin took this opportunity to pull his cousin Ferdibrand aside. 'Ferdi,' he said. 'I want you to stay with him. He'll likely sleep...'

'Dratted healers and their draughts,' Ferdi muttered, and Pippin grinned and punched him on the arm.

'I'm sure you'll be able to avoid their wiles,' he said. 'Keep your wits about you. They can be tricksy.'

'You're telling me,' Ferdi grumbled.

'Send word when he wakens,' Pippin said. 'I want to have a talk with the Man.'

'Very well, cousin,' Ferdi said. 'And where will you be?'

'Catching up on old times with Gwill, of course,' Pippin said, 'or Jack, or Robin, or whatever name he wishes to go by. No matter how the name changes, it seems the man stays much the same.'

'I don't know about that,' Ferdi said. 'Robin was a wandering conjurer of cheap tricks, Jack was a ruffian, and Gwill...'

'Never you mind,' Pippin said. 'I'm sure you'll find him to be a fine and upright Man once you get to know him a little better.'

'Ruffians all,' Ferdi said under his breath.

'What was that, cousin?' Pippin said.

'Just clearing my throat,' Ferdi said. ' 'Tis still a bit damp out this morning, after all the rain we had last night.'

'Of course,' Pippin said. 'Well now, you have your orders,' he added.

Ferdi nodded, and as a newly summoned healer led the litter-bearers down a corridor to the left, he trotted after them.

Pippin and the other hobbits followed a different path, ending in the room where Gwill and Gwillam lay. Well, actually Gwill was sitting up, a tray of food on his lap, surrounded by hobbits: Diamond and Faramir (the littler Tooks were napping), Estella and the young Brandybucks, and Rose and a number of young Gamgees, all chattering at once.

The old man's eyes lit up further when Pippin entered.

'How are you faring?' the Thain said, moving to the bed and hauling himself up to sandwich Farry between himself and Diamond.

'Quite well,' Gwill said. 'I need only open my mouth to eat; my guests are doing all the talking.'

In the meantime, Sam and Merry moved to stand near Seledrith, who still sat beside her husband. Baby Robin, hidden under a shawl, was as occupied as his grandfather. Hilly hesitated in the doorway, looking from one bed to the other.

'How is your husband?' Sam said politely, but his eyes were filled with warmth and concern, and Seledrith relaxed slightly.

It was the other hobbits, two of those on old Gwill's bed and the one who remained in the doorway despite the greetings called to him by the others, who had been taken hostage, after all, as she'd gathered from the flow of talk that morning. Gwillam had not wronged the two standing here at her side.

She was bewildered at the cheerful conversation taking place on the other bed, quite as if Gwill and Gwillam had never been law-breakers.

But they had been identified, and by the hobbits, as law-breakers. And Seledrith knew what law-breakers were. She remembered the long journey from Gondor, a large group of farmers seeking land, and artisans needed for building, and even merchants with wains filled with their wares, for shops would be needed even before the first buildings were completely built and roofed. Yet despite the number of travellers, the King had sent guardsmen, for so rich a train would likely tempt ruffians... as it had.

She remembered cowering behind a wheel, under a wain, as battle raged, not just guardsmen fighting, but the farmers and merchants and craftsmen as well, defending their families against a well-organised onslaught. In the end the last of the ruffians had been killed or driven off, and the mothers emerged with their children, and Seledrith saw death, close at hand and terrifying. Not only dead ruffians lay in the road, but good upright men as well, guardsmen and others who had fallen, wounded or dying. Death wrought by law-breakers.

The able-bodied guardsmen had quickly dispatched the wounded ruffians by stringing them up from the branches of nearby trees. The dead were then buried: the law-breakers in one large grave, together, unmarked and unmourned, and the defenders laid to rest by friends and family and cairns of stones taken from a nearby riverbank piled over them to secure their rest.

There had been a day to rest, to bind up wounds, to mourn, and then they had to move on.

But Seledrith never forgot the lesson she had learned that day. She knew what law-breakers were.

Suddenly she realised that the hobbit was still standing there, looking at her. 'I beg your pardon?' she said.

'How is your husband?' Sam repeated. 'It sounds as if his breathing is better. Has he wakened at all this morning, while we were away?'

'He opened his eyes once or twice,' Seledrith found herself saying, 'but he didn't seem to see me.'

Sam nodded thoughtfully, and climbed up upon the bed for a closer look.

Merry climbed up beside him. 'He has quite the ruffianly look,' he said thoughtfully. 'Balanurthon's assistant blackened his eye for him, trying to bring him round.'

Hilly moved from the doorway at last, to the head of Gwillam's bed, to gaze at Gwillam's face on the pillow, his own countenance very sober.

'About as far from a ruffian as they come,' Sam said, settling himself. 'Diamond told Rose all about how he held her in his lap as if she were a doll, or a babe; how gently he coaxed hot broth into her when she was feeling frozen nearly to the bone, how softly he laid her down upon a bed o' ferns, as careful as a mother with her own little one.'

Seledrith sat like a stone, staring at her husband's face. Her husband. A stranger. Law-breaker.

'Not to mention how he crawled along the branches into the bog,' Merry said. He shivered. 'Brandybuck or no, I'm not sure I'd've had the courage to do what he did.'

Seledrith seemed to waken from a dream then. 'What he did?' she said in a puzzled tone.

'Saved my life, he did,' Hilly said. 'Did he never tell you?'

Seledrith flushed and looked down, twining the fingers of her free hand in the shawl.

'Of course he didn't,' Hilly said before Merry could rebuke him for his thoughtlessness. 'He'd've been protecting his father and brother, o' course. Not thinking of the danger to himself, I don't wonder, but rather fearing the consequences for them... poor lad. He never knew that the Thain forgave all, and pardoned all, when he learned how Will and Jack saved the lives of his wife and son, and myself.'

'Saved your life?' Seledrith echoed. She had not really been listening to the talk that had been proceeding around old Gwill's bed, sunk too deep in her own despairing reflections.

'Of course he did!' Hilly said. 'Why let me tell you...' and he began to spin the tale, in as fine a manner as any Tookish storyteller, such that Gwillam's wife was drawn in, scarcely feeling when tiny Robin's lips stopped their suckling and merely quivered against her, as the baby dropped off to sleep under the shawl.

She felt the chill of the air, heard the splashing of the ponies through the high-running rivers that crossed their muddy trail, knew some of Diamond's fear when her pony balked, mid-stream. Hilly brought his pony alongside, took her little son from her, intending to bring him safe to the bank and then come back for her. A floating branch came swiftly, and her pony jumped as the current drove it against his hindquarters... and then the beast decided that it might, indeed, be better to move along than to stand.

But the bank was too steep and slippery, too treacherous, and so they turned the ponies' heads to ride downstream, looking for an easier way. The bank fell sharply, too sharp to climb, and beyond the stream had drowned the land, moving inward and over the bank, lying still and quiet amongst the trees.

So quiet, the water there, as opposed to the swift current behind them, so still as to show the reflection of the treetops above them. The feet of their ponies made spreading ripples as they forged towards the dry land ahead of them. Not far, now...

And suddenly her pony was plunging, and struggling, and the fear she'd known in the stream was nothing compared to the terror of the bog that tried to swallow them whole...

The room was silent now; the hobbits on the other bed scarcely breathing as they listened. Diamond pulled Farry a little closer, great teen that he was, and Pippin's arms instinctively rose to encompass wife and son together.

Diamond's pony struggled onto firmer ground, but Hilly's sank as if there were no bottom beneath him. Diamond screamed the names of son and cousin, and Hilly kicked his feet free of the stirrups, raised himself up on the saddle, used his pony as a sort of step-stool, and with a mighty thrust that sent himself and his pony deeper, he threw little Farry towards his mother's yearning arms.

Diamond moved a step or two into the quaking mud to catch her son by one arm and, falling backwards, dragged him to safety. But for Hilly there was no safety, as the icy waters overlaying the mud closed over his struggling pony's head, and he continued to sink, even as he stood upon the submerged saddle. Desperately he strung his bow and cast at the branches above his head, and just as it seemed all hope was lost, the bow caught on a thumb-like protrusion. The branch bowed under his weight. Clinging to the bow, he continued to sink to his shoulders while Diamond watched in horror.

Seledrith's free hand was clenched convulsively in the shawl and she shivered.

There was no rope in Diamond's saddlebags. The mud of the bog was cold, the water colder, and the air grew ever more chilly as the sun sank in the sky. Soaked to the skin, nevertheless Diamond knew she must not stop there, not if Hilly was to have any chance at all. Together she and her little son dragged branches to the edge of the bog and shoved them towards Hilly, building a bridge of sorts, that he might pull himself to safety.

But by the time the makeshift bridge was sturdy enough, the cold had taken its toll. Hilly's strength, sapped by the chill of the icy water, was not enough for him to pull himself free of the mud's embrace. He barely had the will to keep his face above the surface of the water, and that will was rapidly weakening.

Diamond vowed to crawl out to him, but somehow Hilly retained enough wit to halt her at the water's edge. She could not leave her little son, alone in the forest, at the edge of a bog. It was too late. Too late.

Tears came to Seledrith's eyes, and she swallowed hard, blinking.

'What did you do then?' Eliniel asked softly.

'I sang,' Diamond said, for Hilly had fallen silent, just as he had on that terrible day, ten years before, when the bog sought to claim him. 'It was all I could do for him; to sing him out of the world, to sing for so long as his ears could hear. To sing him to sleep...' Her arms tightened on Farry, and her eyes looked into the far distance. 'It was all I could do,' she said. 'And then...'

'And I heard a fair lilting, a-wafting on the breeze,' Gwill said, his look faraway. 'As if one of the faerie folk were fluting a lullaby. We crept forward, the lads and I did, scarcely daring to breathe, and then peering through the trees we saw them... a little mother, cradling her child and singing. Wet and chilled they looked, huddled on the cold ground without even a fire to warm them, and the pony was lame.'

'Aye,' Pippin breathed, and he buried his face in Diamond's hair as he pulled her and Farry closer.

'And then Will... Gwillam,' Gwill said, looking to Seledrith. 'He shouted! I scolded him for it, I did. Yes, we were in the Shire when we ought not to have been. I knew it well, he knew it perhaps, and little Rob knew it not at all, for to a little lad it was merely a game of hide-and-seek. I was trying to win the trust of the little mother and her son... and he goes a-shouting...'

'You pulled a coin from my ear,' Farry said, remembering. 'You said, "Hasn't your mother taught you to keep your coins in your pocket?" '

Pippin relaxed slightly, even managed a chuckle, and looking to the old man he said, 'Those were your first words to me, as I recall, all those years ago, when I was about the same age as Farry was when he was at the edge of the bog.'

'I was remembering you as I said them,' Gwill said. 'I saw you, the little Shire-lad I'd known upon a time, in the face of your son... and I knew at once who he was, and his mother with him.'

'Gwillam shouted,' Turambor said, returning to the thread of the story. 'And you were deep in the Shire, and not wanting the Shire-folk to know.'

'Sharp are the wits of the Tooks,' Gwill said reflectively, 'and sharper the tips of their arrows. I knew them well upon a time. Perhaps I was out of my wits, to consider sneaking into the Shire to scoop up a few handfuls of gold that lay in piles, uncounted, in a dark hole in the ground...'

'Gwillam shouted,' Turambor insisted. 'And then...?'

' "Keep your voice down!" I scolded,' Gwill said, 'as if the lad had no sense to speak of, him, who had more sense than me, most likely, for I'd had to argue with him long to persuade him to enter the Shire in the first place. And then I looked where he was pointing, and I saw a bow in the branches of a tree in the bog, and that bow was pointing down...'

Hilly shuddered but did not speak.

'And I saw a hobbit in the bog, head drooping, face nearly in the water,' Gwill said softly. 'He clung to the branches that had been shoved out toward him, but it was all too evident that the chill had robbed him of strength and the water would soon rob him of life. I thought perhaps he was drowning in the water, unable to swim, but as I moved to wade out to him, the little mother shouted a warning. "It's a bog!" she shrieked, and my heart sank, for I saw no way to save him. But then... I thought of the rope in my pack. If I could get the rope to the drowning hobbit somehow... but how? I was too heavy to risk the branches, myself. And the lads...'

The old man swallowed hard and looked at Gwillam's bruised and swollen face, so still on the pillow. 'Will stood firm,' he said. 'It came to me to send him across the branches. I told him what was in my mind, and he hesitated not a wink. He shed his coat, his shirt, his cloak and boots and tied the rope round his waist, even as little Rob clung to him and begged him not to risk himself. "I cannot lose you too," he wept, poor little lad, bereft of mother and father and grandmother, all he knew and loved save one. But Will...'

And the old man's tone was suffused with quiet pride. 'Gwillam, he said, "I've no choice, Rob. Would you have that little fellow there lose his own father, as we've lost ours?" And as I could not see the face of the hobbit in the bog, I thought it as likely to be yourself, Master Pippin, as anyone. And I remembered how you saved me, on a summer day long ago in the Shire, when fever had taken me and I nearly drowned, lying with my face in the stream that ran through Whittacres Farm...'

'You saved him from drowning?' Diamond said to her husband. 'You never told me that.'

'I was only eight at the time,' Pippin said. 'It was a year or so after we'd first met, when he'd found me wandering and carried me to Bag End. My mother was happy to nurse him back to health, to return the favour, and though my father never liked Men to speak of, he found Jack--Robin a tolerable fellow.'

'It was not your first time in the Shire?' Turambor said in consternation.

Gwill chuckled gently. 'Ah,' he said, wagging a finger. 'There was no King's edict in those days. The Shire was my home, from early spring until the leaves were falling. I was a bird, returning at nesting time and staying until it was time to fly to a warm place to pass the winter months.'

'A robin, or perhaps a jackdaw,' Merry said slyly, and the hobbits laughed.

'And so Gwillam saved the drowning hobbit,' Turambor said.

'It was easier said than done,' the old man answered. 'He crawled into the bog, over the branches, and they sank under his weight until it looked as if he were swimming rather than crawling. And when he got to Hilly, what a contest of "tug" it was for him to win the hobbit free of the mud! His head went under the water, and for so long I thought perhaps the mud had caught him and was pulling him down, head-first, into darkness.'

'I was so frightened,' Robin said softly, his fists clenched in remembered terror. 'I was certain I'd lost him.' He drew a shuddering breath then, looking at his brother, for it seemed to him that he might well lose him yet.

Chapter 28. Resolution

'Steady, lad,' Gwill said. His eyes were sorrowful, filled with worry that he tried to disguise with a smile for Robin's sake, but he laid aside his fork and sighed.

'He's looking better than he was,' Sam put in stoutly, and Merry voiced his agreement.

Privately Hilly thought that Ferdi had hardly looked worse, after his own interrupted hanging. But then, the ruffians occupying the Shire had been on their way to report to their "boss", and hadn't had the leisure to beat their Tookish prisoner, and so the greater part of bruising and swelling had been in the soft tissues of Ferdi's throat and not on his face.

'He does indeed look much better,' Estella said briskly. 'Now, Gwill, you've only another bite or two of these lovely carrots...' and with coaxing, she persuaded the old man to eat a few more bites before he laid down his fork for good, protesting that he could not manage any more.

Diamond began to sing softly, and the other hobbits joined in, a soothing song, a hopeful song, of the sun returning from her winter sojourn to warm the earth once more, the seeds bursting from their sleep to send forth shoots, to bud and bloom. Turambor and Eliniel listened in delight and Seledrith and Robin in wonder, and old Gwill smiled and relaxed against his pillows, losing himself in the music.

A cheerful healer's assistant, Dinithil, crept into the room, then, to shoo away the hobbit visitors, telling them that their own meal was waiting for them. Turambor, Eliniel, and Robin too, were to go with the hobbits and eat, by order of the head healer, and then they might return to watch over the convalescents, at least until it was lamp-lighting time. Dinithil carried a tray for Seledrith, which she deposited on the table beside the bed, within easy reach, and on her way out, following the visitors like an alert sheep-dog, she gathered up the tray from a drowsy Gwill with a pleased exclamation--the old man had managed to eat more than half of the generous portions.

'I'll return for your tray in a little while,' Dinithil said softly to Seledrith, and the latter nodded with a smile of thanks.

'I do not know why I feel so sleepy,' Gwill said with a yawn and apologetic look.

'It might have something to do with the fact that you usually close your eyes for a time after nuncheon,' Seledrith said dryly. It was their pleasant custom to walk arm-in-arm from the kitchen to the small nook at one side of the shop, with its little hearth and comfortable rocking chair and cradle. There she would settle Gwill, tucking him up warmly with lap robe, and in the past week she'd taken to laying baby Robin in the cradle for Gwill to "watch over" while she walked the market. A smile softened her face as she added, 'Dear Father, you do look as if you would like to close your eyes. Don't linger on my account. Sleep, and you'll be all the better for it when Robin returns from his meal.'

Gwill relaxed subtly at this. It was the first time Seledrith had addressed him as "Father" since the arrest. Knowing her opinion of law-breakers, he'd feared... but she smiled at him so sweetly, and began to hum a little tune, and he found he could not keep his eyes open any longer, and soon they closed altogether and his breathing grew quiet and even.

Seledrith took her eyes from Gwill and looked to her husband, and gasped. Gwillam's eyes were open, and he was staring searchingly into her face. 'Gwillam!' she whispered.

His lips formed her name.

'Gwillam!' she said again. 'You... you... Do you know me?' She had overheard the whispers in the corridor, in the wee hours of the night, the concern that Gwillam, too long deprived of sufficient air, might waken witless or not at all.

The ghost of a smile touched his lips, and they moved again, forming her name slowly, though no sound emerged.

'My love...' she whispered with a tender smile, and then sudden anger swept over her, surprising in its intensity. 'Why?' she hissed. 'Why did you never tell me?'

He was grieved, she saw, but courageously he met her furious gaze, and his mouth opened as if he would speak. No words came, and he swallowed, and winced as if it pained him.

'Was it that you never trusted me?' Seledrith continued, leaning forward unconsciously, her grip tightening on the sleeping babe. 'Did you think I'd give up dear Father, and young Robin, that I would send them to their deaths?'

He tried to shake his head, but it pained him, and weakly he lifted his hand from the coverlet, but the effort was too much for him, and it fell back again, powerless.

'You never trusted me...' Seledrith said, lower, her eyes filling with tears, 'or...'

'Afraid...' Gwillam breathed, and this time the word whispered from him, no more than a whisper, and it cost him great effort to force the word past his bruised and swollen throat.

'Afraid!' Seledrith said in a stinging voice, though she kept her voice low so as not to waken either of the sleepers. 'Afraid! Everyone's been telling how courageous you are in the face of danger, how you risked your life with no thought of yourself, to...'

'Afraid...' Gwillam said, his face twisting in frustration, and he rolled half onto his side towards her in his desperation to make himself clear. 'Afraid,' he husked, 'that I would lose...'

'That you would lose your life?' Seledrith said, and sniffed. As if she had not been in terror of that happening, ever since hearing that death was the penalty for what he'd done in his guarded past.

'Lose... you...' Gwillam forced out, and swallowed again with a greater wince than before, as if Orcs, or wolves perhaps, were tearing at his throat. He was breathing hard, rasping breaths, and Seledrith, alarmed, took one hand from the baby to try to ease him back down.

'Gwillam, I...' she began, but he would not be eased.

'Afraid...' he insisted, and forced out the rest of what he needed her to know. '...I'd... lose... you...'

Seledrith was suddenly very still, and Gwillam, looking into her face, stilled as well, though he remained taut as a bent bow, tense, waiting.

'You never told me...' she said, fumbling, thinking over this new thought. She had at first been shocked, then wild with grief, and then angered beyond anything she'd ever known. He'd defrauded her somehow; he'd presented himself as an upright, law-abiding man; he had married her under false pretences.

Seledrith swallowed hard, and tears spilled from her eyes. Yes, when the knowledge that her husband was a law-breaker had suddenly become clear to her, and terribly real, she had closed her heart against him. She had been lost to him, in truth, and what he'd feared had come about.

Slowly she said, '...not because you were afraid I'd betray you to the Kingsmen...'

His eyes pleaded silently, and on impulse she rose from the chair and leaned over him, her lips seeking his, and gently she kissed him, leaning closer until the baby kicked in protest, but Gwillam's arms rose as if they had gained new strength, rose and closed about her, and she turned slightly, that baby Robin might not feel so squeezed, and laid her cheek gently against his bruised one, and whispered, 'You'll never lose me, my love. Never. I shall always love you. Always.'

His arms tightened, and then fell away, and she rose in alarm, but it was only bodily weakness that had taken him, and with time and rest that would be overcome. His eyes were open, drinking her in, and he smiled. Love, his lips formed.

'Love,' she agreed with all her heart, and leaned in for another kiss.

Chapter 29. A Tale of Two Rangers

When they'd laid the Steward down upon a bed, the healer turned to Ferdibrand with a questioning look. 'If I may be of assistance, sir?' he said.

'Thain's orders,' Ferdi said shortly, and rather bad-temperedly he added, 'Have you a chair? Or must I stand beside him until he wakens?'

'That won't be necessary,' the healer said hastily, and it was not long before a chair was brought and placed beside the bed.

Ferdi sighed heavily as he climbed up. Everything was so very large here. Beds... chairs... It was bad enough that the doors were an unnatural shape; the doorknobs were set uncomfortably high, making him feel as if he had regressed to childhood once more.

'Is there anything else you'll be needing, sir?' the healer said with a bow. This Halfling was the special assistant of the Ernil himself, after all, and therefore it behoved him to extend every courtesy.

'Something to eat,' Ferdi said, and belatedly he added, 'if you please.' His mother had taught him manners, after all. 'And you needn't "sir" me, every other word you say.'

'As you wish,' the healer said with another bow, cannily leaving the "sir" off. He bowed once more and took himself away. This Halfling was certainly not as pleasant in manner as others he'd met, but then, from his understanding, the poor little fellow had observed the flogging of the Steward. No doubt the experience had unsettled him. Halflings were rumoured to have tender feelings and soft hearts, for all their tough core.

Ferdi looked to the sergeant, who stood just inside the doorway, though he'd dismissed his men.

'Well?' he said.

'I have my orders as well,' Haleth said.

Ferdi nodded, but had nothing else to say. Glumly he regarded the sleeping Man before him. "Steward", they called him, and yet he was nothing like any steward Ferdi knew back in the Shire. How could someone sign away a life, three lives, and go on to discuss spring planting? How could someone order nearly a dozen floggings in one breath, and still go to sleep at night? King Elessar had given the reins of his northern Kingdom to a ruffian, in truth!

But then, Ferdi had his doubts about the King himself. Elessar was a Man, after all, and Men were not to be trusted, not any further than Ferdi could throw them. Which, though he was sturdy and well-muscled, and as good at any hobbit at casting stones, wouldn't be far at all.

It had been a battle of wits, keeping the great creatures that were Men out of the Tookland when they overran the Shire, and Ferdi could not quite understand how Pippin could call some of them "friends". To Ferdi's mind, they were more like wolves than like hobbits, or perhaps a better comparison would be bears. Large, ungainly creatures, seeming harmless, comical, even disposed to be friendly, but dangerous all the same, and not to be trusted. Though there were no bears in the Shire at this late date, still, he'd heard the stories about them, seen the likenesses in drawings and paintings and pictures in books, even curled his toes in a shaggy bearskin spread before a blazing hearth.

Yes, he decided. Men had a great deal in common with bears. He remembered Gandalf's caution towards Beorn, the bear-man... skin-changer, Bilbo had called him, and how cautiously even a wizard had treated him so as not to rouse his temper.

The food came, a goodly quantity, and Ferdi was pleased to see that though the plate was man-sized, the eating utensils were sensibly scaled to a hobbit's hands. He thanked the woman who brought the tray, who though over-tall was pleasantly rounded, quite attractive by hobbit standards.

Haleth received no food, and after his first bite, Ferdi looked at the sergeant sharply. 'Here now,' he said. 'Don't they feed you?'

'I'm on duty,' Haleth answered.

'Well, I'm on duty as well, but that's no excuse to starve a fellow,' Ferdi said. Nodding at his plate, he added, 'Would you like some?' He could eat all, and then some, but the thought of eating in front of a starving man rather took the edge off his appetite.

'I am well, truly,' Haleth said. He had not breakfasted, facing a heavy flogging as he'd been, but he'd gone longer without food in the old days, and had heavier duty in his younger days, when he'd been a Ranger, regarded with scorn by the Breelanders, doing his duty regardless, and not knowing when or even if Aragorn would ever win the throne.

He had run a long way on short rations, and more than once. The longest race had been the chase to rescue Haldoron and Halbarad from the murderous Orcs who'd taken them, and at that they'd nearly come too late. Had it not been for the the sons of Elrond...

As if these dark memories summoned echoes in the Steward's mind, the man on the bed groaned and his hands tightened into fists. 'Orcs...'

Haleth called down the corridor, and then he moved to the side of the bed, leaning over the Steward, placing his hands on the man's forearms to hold him down. 'Steady,' he said. 'All is well.'

'Hal... Haleth,' the Steward said. 'Fly! It's a trap!'

'Steady,' Haleth said again.

'Orcs!' Haldoron said, and Ferdi's blood ran cold. 'Halbarad!'

'Steady,' Haleth said again, and then a healer was there, wetting a cloth from a bottle and holding it under the Steward's nose. He relaxed, and Haleth let go his hold.

'He will sleep more deeply,' the healer said, 'and the King ought to be here before he wakens again.' She bowed to the hobbit and took her leave, while Haleth moved to stand by the door once more.

'Haleth?' Ferdi said, raising an eyebrow.

The sergeant nodded. 'Haldoron,' Ferdi said, rolling the word round his tongue as if he wasn't sure of the taste, and then, 'Halbarad.'

Haleth said nothing.

'You are brothers, then?' Ferdi said, looking from steward to sergeant.

'A coincidence of names,' Haleth said. 'The Steward and I are kinsmen, but not close.'

'And Halbarad?' Ferdi said.

'The Steward's brother. He was lost in battle in the Southlands.'

'Ah,' Ferdi said. He remembered the name from stories the Thain had told him. 'A brave Man, from what I've heard.'

'He was that. As is his brother,' Haleth said.

Ferdi frowned. 'Taken by Orcs?' he said, and the words of the King to Merry and Pippin suddenly made sense to him. Looking more closely, he could see the faint marks on the Steward's wrists, resembling those of Thain and Master. 'It was my understanding that he was one of those who guarded the lands around Bree. There were Orcs there?'

Haleth nodded. 'Within a day's march of Bree and Archet,' he said. 'They had sent scouts into the Breeland, hiding in the Chetwood by day and prowling around the walls after the fall of night.'

Ferdi shuddered. 'What did they want?' he said.

'Likely to burn and kill and destroy,' Haleth said. 'Dark things were drawing ever nearer, and growing bolder. Wolves were heard howling in the hills around Bree, that winter, and spies were gathering around the Shire. Aragorn sent word to the Grey Wanderer, and doubled the guard. But these were Orkish spies, and we happened upon their hiding in the Chetwood. Blundered, rather. We had just crossed a stream, breaking through the ice, though fortunately it was not much above our knees where we crossed, and I was thinking more of the icy water that had seeped into my boots, than our surroundings. It was snowing, and a brisk wind was blowing, and so we didn't smell them, and saw no tracks. They were in the trees, and two dropped upon Halbarad before he knew what had happened. Haldoron called out warning and struck out with his sword, but more dropped from the trees to knock him to the ground.'

'And you?' Ferdi said, his eyes wide.

Haleth dropped his head. 'I ran,' he said. 'And they ran after me, like hounds from the darkest pit, howling with glee, and their arrows fell all about in a dark rain. But the wind gusted and pushed the arrows from their deadly course, and I dove into the stream, ducked under the ice, and came up some way downstream. And coming out of the stream I ran. I ran, not just to summon aid to save them, but to save myself. Shivering, I ran. Freezing, I ran. Had I stopped I'd have turned to ice, but I didn't stop. I ran...' His voice dropped, and his eyes stared, not at Ferdi, but at some distant vision of memory.

'And then what happened?' Ferdi demanded, not about to let the story end there.

'I found my chief,' Haleth said at last. 'I stopped, scarce able to draw breath, and my entire body clenched into one fist, too cold even to shiver, and the sons of Elrond poured something down my throat that made a great warmth from my gullet to my belly, and I was able to gasp out my message. And there was no time for dry clothes... but we ran, the four of us, though I was no match for the other three. Indeed, for some of the way the sons of Elrond took my arms and we flew! ... or so it seemed to me. But when we reached the place where the Orcs had swooped from the trees, they were already gone.'

'Gone!' Ferdi said. 'But what of Haldoron and Halbarad?'

Chapter 30. One Ranger, Two Rangers, Three Rangers, Four

Haleth's gaze returned from the far distance and sharpened as his eyes fixed themselves on Ferdi's plate. 'Your food's going cold,' he said. 'Don't let that good meat go to waste.'

Ferdi obligingly forked up a few bites and then asked, 'How do you know it's good?'

'I can smell it from here,' Haleth said candidly. 'Enough to make the mouth water.'

'Then I'll order you a plate,' Ferdi said, but before he could slide down from the chair the sergeant held out his hand.

'No,' Haleth said firmly. 'Thank you. Very much. But the last time a hobbit tempted me to eat while I was on duty, I ended up with fifty lashes,' he nodded at the bed, 'or at least, he did.'

'But...' Ferdi protested.

'I will be released, when the King comes, more than likely, and I can sit down to nuncheon before taking up my duties again for the rest of the day,' Haleth said. 'A Man may miss a meal or two and suffer no harm. Hobbits, however...' He levelled a serious look at Ferdi. 'I'm told that they must eat quantities of food, and that, six times a day at the very least.'

'Who told you that?' Ferdi said. 'It sounds very agreeable.'

'Denny,' Haleth said. 'Turambor's son in law, who sharpens blades in the marketplace...'

But Ferdi was nodding. 'I met him at the welcoming feast,' he said. 'Quite a pleasant fellow, for one so tall.'

Haleth hid a grin. 'He said that he spent the better part of a month being fed by hobbits, until he thought he might burst if he'd had to remain a day longer.'

'Hardly that long,' Ferdi said. 'If you're talking about the time he was waiting to escort my cousin Hildibold to the Lake...'

'Perhaps it only seemed so long to him,' Haleth said. 'He said hobbits kept bringing him baskets of food, and he'd been told it would be a grave insult to fail to eat what was offered.'

'Ah,' Ferdi said, and this time it was the hobbit who hid a grin. He'd heard about that. Pippin had impressed on the local hobbits near the Brandywine Bridge that they must extend every courtesy to the Kingsmen who waited to escort Hildibold Took to the Lake, and they had taken him at his word, bringing him quantities of food deemed adequate by hobbits, but, from what Ferdi knew, probably enough to founder a Man, even one so tall as Denny.

'So, eat!' Haleth said.

As he complied, Ferdi cocked a thoughtful eye at the sergeant. 'You look as if you hadn't slept,' he observed.

'Perhaps I haven't,' Haleth said. 'Lack of sleep never hurt me yet.'

'Do you make a practice of it?' Ferdi said, absently eating another bite and chewing as he considered Men and their strange ways. 'Not sleeping, and not eating, that is?'

'Not so much as used to be,' Haleth said. 'When we were guarding the Breeland, we ate when we could, and found rest on occasion, perhaps not so often as we might have wished...'

'Breeland!' Ferdi said. 'You managed to distract me with food, just as my parents used to when I was only a young lad,' he added, shaking his fork at the sergeant, 'but I mean to have my answer now. What happened to Haldoron and Halbarad?'

Haleth lost the slight smile he'd been wearing for the past few minutes. 'Not while you're eating,' he said. 'Even Men know enough, not to spoil a good meal.'

Ferdi cleared his plate quickly and efficiently after that, and laying it aside, he turned back to the sergeant. 'Well?' he said. 'You cannot leave me... hanging.'

Haleth gulped at the hobbit's choice of words, but he nodded. 'I suppose I owe you the rest of the story, after bringing you this far,' he said. 'But it is not an easy tale, and your Thain might not want it told you.'

Ferdi rolled his eyes. 'I have seen something of the cruelties of Men,' he said. He nodded significantly toward the sleeping Steward, and then he raised his head, pointing to his throat. 'I've been at the end of one of their ropes,' he said, 'much as that poor fellow that Steward of yours condemned yesterday.'

Haleth saw the fine white scars there, reminders of a strangling rope; and sick, he thought of young Gwillam.

The hobbit continued grimly. 'I saw ruffians burn an inn and joke about the waste--that there were no hobbits within at the time.' And now it was the hobbit's turn to stare into the far distance. 'I shot an arrow into the heart of a ruffian who had a friend of mine by the throat, admiring the pretty colours Regi was turning as he struggled for air.' Looking to the sergeant again, he said, 'And I saw a ruffian dressed in guardsman's livery drive a sword into the breast of the Thain with such force that, had he not worn a mithril coat at the time, the thrust would have gone through his heart and out through his back, spitting him.'

Haleth opened his mouth to speak, but Ferdi was not quite finished. 'I have seen the bodies of Men hanging in the woodlands outside the Bounds of the Shire, hung up by Rangers--what makes them better than ruffians? And I saw a flogging yesterday, a terrible thing,' he said. 'While I understand the Steward sought to redress his own wrongs, I confess I can't make heads nor tails of his methods. More than fifty lashes, he took, before the King stopped them. Why not one? Why not none at all?' He shook his head. 'Truly, I have little understanding of the ways of Men. And I do not wish to know more, as things stand.'

'And your Thain has ordered you to this post,' Haleth said, bemused. The chieftains among the Halflings had taken on a daunting task, attempting to shield the majority of their fellows from the less pleasant side of the affairs of Men, while at the same time fighting against the insular tendencies of their race. He had heard Thain Peregrin, on an earlier visit to the Lake, expounding on his desire for hobbits "to get to know the best of Men without learning the worst of them."

'I fear there's little sense in half the things my cousin orders,' Ferdi said, 'though it usually turns out he had some reason or other, in the end.'

Haleth had no time to be surprised, for the hobbit fixed him with a stern look. 'I have finished my meal,' he said. 'And now I insist upon knowing what happened to the two Rangers who were taken by Orcs. My meal will certainly not digest as it should, when I am in such a state of suspense.'

'It may not digest as it should, with what the tale holds,' Haleth said.

Ferdi laughed, a humourless bark, not at all hobbity. 'Tell on,' he said. 'The not-knowing is worse than the knowing, I find.' He levelled a steady gaze at the sergeant. 'But when you reached the place where the Orcs had swooped from the trees, they were already gone,' he prompted.

Haleth swallowed a few times and cleared his throat. At last he said, 'Had the sons of Elrond not been with us, I doubt we'd have known their fate for certain, though certainly there was no doubt as to what would have befallen them. The storm had worsened, the wind and snow--to my eyes there was no path to follow, and my chief bent searching this way and that, to no avail. The blowing snow had covered all sign of them.'

'But there is more of a tale to tell,' Ferdi said, 'else the Steward would not lie here, battered but living, and Halbarad would not have fallen in the Southlands.'

'The sons of Elrond,' Haleth said, his voice taking on a reverential tone. 'They would appear among us at times, bringing word to our chief from the Grey Wanderer, or the Lord Elrond, or they might come when the number of foes grew threatening though how they knew to come at just such times is beyond my understanding...'

Ferdi, though patience was not one of his virtues, waited.

At last Haleth said, 'They talked to the trees.'

The hobbit did not seem surprised at the idea of talking and listening to trees. Perhaps this was yet one more facet of the jewels that were Halflings, unknown to Men. Or perhaps he had some knowledge of Ents and Elves from his kinsfolk, the Thain and Master.

'Listening, they were able to discern which way the Orcs had gone, carrying their prisoners, and so we followed, into the teeth of the storm. Darkness fell, and still we followed the whispers of the trees. We stopped only once, for I was faltering and even my chief seemed weary, but a mouthful from Elladan's flask and we were ready once again to forge on.'

'Darkness! They were taken in daylight?' Ferdi said. 'But to my understanding...'

'That is why they surprised us in the first place,' Haleth said. 'We did not expect them to be abroad in daylight. In actuality, they were not--they were resting in the trees, out of sight. However, in the dim light of the storm, with heavy clouds hiding the sun, they were able to fight and overcome us, in part because of the element of surprise that was in their favour.'

'Ah,' Ferdi said, and with a wave of his hand, as one who is used to being obeyed, 'Continue.'

Haleth smiled briefly and complied. 'Through the night we went, fearing no ambush, for the Orcs would have no thought of pursuit in the storm, and the trees would warn us when we neared them.'

Ferdi made a sharp movement, as if he'd ask just how the trees would warn them, but he contained himself with merely a nod at Haleth. Evidently he did not want to interrupt the flow of the story.

'Through the night and into the dawning,' Haleth said. 'The storm was blowing itself out, and the dawn was brighter than the previous day. Elladan held up his hand, and laid his palm against the bole of a graceful tree, and leaned close. At last he straightened and said, low, "They have hidden themselves, found a shelter of sorts, half a mile to the East, and have kindled fire."

'My chief muttered an oath, and Elrohir looked very sober. Had I had anything in my stomach to speak of, I'd have lost it, taking his meaning. Manflesh is a great delicacy amongst that foul kind.'

Ferdi moved uneasily once more, but setting his jaw he nodded at Haleth to go on. 'Not knowing is worse than the knowing,' he muttered in encouragement.

Haleth returned the nod, and fixing his eyes upon a corner of the ceiling, he recited, as if he told a story belonging to another man, another time. 'We crept upon them, staying downwind, and the trees told the sons of Elrond where the sentries perched, and so we avoided them, finding at last a sheltered drift overlooking the hollow where they'd made camp. Ah, but it was cold, burrowing under the snow, but a good covering... While the sons of Elrond drifted away, one with the shadows of the trees, Aragorn and I burrowed into the drift, moving cautiously forward until we could see into the hollow. There were my kinsmen, one lying near a small fire and the other in the grip of Orcs. The one had a bloody rag tied around his head and a few whip weals on his back, and he lay without moving--they'd evidently given up trying to rouse him and had kicked him to one side. The other had been beaten bloody, and their chief bent over him, growling questions, but the Ranger only shook his head when they pressed him. They wanted to know our pattern of patrols, it seemed, and our meeting places.'

Ferdi nodded. The ruffians who'd invaded Tookland had wished much the same information about the Tooks, but had never managed to gain it, and in part because the better part of the plan resided inside the head of Thain Paladin, who stayed well away from the borders during the Troubles, and what parts Ferdi knew when he made his forays to the outer parts of the Shire were not enough to threaten more than a small number of Tooks at a time.

'They especially wanted word of our chief, and a way to trap him,' Haleth said quietly, his eyes still fixed on the corner of the ceiling as if it held all the answers to his questions. 'I glanced at him, and his expression chilled me to the bone, worse than the icy stream where I'd sought refuge, or the snow that lay upon our backs. At last Haldoron, for it was he they questioned, fell silent beneath their blows, and he lay limp in their grasp. Their chieftain swore a foul oath and lifted a brand from the fire, laying it upon Haldoron's savaged back. He jerked and screamed, coming to full wakefulness, and how the Orcs howled with glee. "That's right!" they shouted. "Wouldn't want him to bleed to death! Cauterise the wounds! And cook our dinner nicely, in the meantime!" ' Haleth shuddered and fell silent.

Ferdi gulped, for his own meal was sitting uneasily on his stomach, but he raised his chin one more and said steadily, 'But you cannot leave it at that point, either. You must go on.'

Haleth took a shuddering breath, but meeting the hobbit's gaze and finding courage there, he forged on. 'Their chieftain took Haldoron by the hair,' he said, 'raising his face to meet its own fierce and merciless gaze, and it said... it said...' Another breath, and he said, ' "You drive me nearly to pity, Tarkil," it said. "I will strike a bargain with you. Tell us what we want to know, and I may slit your throat before we begin to feed upon your flesh." '

Ferdi suddenly put a hand to his mouth, but soon he mastered himself and nodded. 'Foul creatures,' he whispered. 'The ruffians of the Troubles pale by comparison.'

'The others set up an outcry at this, of how the flesh is tastier with the blood still in it, but the creature pointed to Halbarad, lying in the snow, and said they might begin on him while the chieftain finished chit-chatting with their other guest.'

'But they didn't...' was wrung from Ferdi, a protest. He might not have been able to bear the rest of the story, save for the fact that he knew Halbarad had survived to ride South to join Aragorn in battle, and that Haldoron lay before them now. But Haleth's tongue appeared to be tied.

'And then the Elven-arrows began to fly,' Elessar said quietly from the doorway. 'Elladan and Elrohir had quietly crept up the trees and slain the sentries, and when that task was accomplished they began to shoot those upon the ground, sowing confusion and slaying many, including the chieftain, before the Orcs quite realised they were under attack. It was relatively quick business, after that, to leap from concealment and ply our swords and knives.'

Haleth started and bowed low. 'My--my Lord,' he stammered. 'I...'

'You'd rate a flogging for telling that tale to any other of the Halflings,' Elessar said, and Ferdi made a face at the word. Did Men think of nothing else but floggings and such? 'However,' the King added, 'I believe that this one was assigned here, in order to hear that tale told, and so you are excused from any penalty. But in future...'

'Forgive me, my Lord,' Haleth whispered. 'I... I never tell that tale, nor even think on it. I cannot imagine what brought me...'

'Enough,' Elessar said, with a slice of his hand cutting off the sergeant's apologies. 'You are relieved. But, wait,' he added, as the sergeant made move to go.

Two healer's assistants appeared then, and it was clear that Elessar had heard the whisper of their feet in the corridor. One bore a basin and kettle, and laying the basin down, poured steaming water into it. From a folded cloth that the other bore, the King took two dark-green leaves, which he bruised and cast into the water, and a living freshness rose into the air and filled the room with life and promise.

Ferdi felt refreshed, much as if he walked the Green Hills under the stars, smelling the growing things under his feet, and the colour began to return to Haleth's countenance, and the haunted look left his eyes. The Steward sighed, and began to breathe more deeply, and the King lifted the dressing from Haldoron's back and began to bathe the abused and broken skin with the fragrant water.

At last he looked once more to Haleth's face, and seeming satisfied with what he saw there, he said, 'You are dismissed. Go, and find yourself a meal, and report at your usual time on the morrow.'

'Sir; yes, Sir,' Haleth said, straightening with a salute. And turning to the door, he marched away.

Chapter 31. To Make a Good End

As Seledrith rose from the kiss, she felt her husband's arms close about her again. 'It's all right,' she said softly. 'I'm here; I will not leave you.' But Gwillam clung weakly to Seledrith, and rather than allow him to waste his strength, she returned his embrace, easing herself down on the bed next to him, with baby Robin between them, still limp with sleep, in the way of babes who can slumber sweetly in the midst of tumult. 'I'm here,' she repeated. 'I'll not leave you.'

She saw that his eyes were full; he blinked the tears away and though his breath came harshly, he held her tightly and buried his face in her neck. He shuddered, and she rubbed her hand along his back, trying to soothe him. She could only imagine the terror he'd known, the awful anticipation, the long delay, and then at last the rope--and an inept hangman, at that. Though it had saved his life, what horror it must have been for him!

And so they remained for a long time, holding each other, while the baby slept between them.

At the soft sound of boots in the corridor, Seledrith sat herself up, gently disengaging Gwillam's arms. It must be the King; he'd promised that he'd return after seeing to the Steward. It seemed impossible, but the Steward had taken the punishment he'd decreed for Haleth and his guardsmen. Seledrith wondered if the man would have taken Gwillam's punishment as well, had the King not pardoned her husband--and then she shook her head, chiding herself for nonsense. Certainly she was overtired, for she'd scarcely slept at all for grief and worry.

Gwillam stiffened, hearing the boots stop outside of the room, the murmur of voices, and as the King entered carrying a paper with blood-red seal, a guardsman with him, he struggled upright in the bed, swinging his legs over the side.

'Gwillam, no!' Seledrith remonstrated, turning to ease him down, but he stood shakily to his feet, stood there swaying, awaiting the King.

Surely that was the death-warrant the King held in his hand, and they had come to finish the business.

Gwillam had known, when he'd wakened with only Seledrith beside him, that all was lost. His father and brother were not here... He could not imagine any reason for their absence, save one. Truly he did not remember anything past the first step leading up to the scaffold, but from the pain in his throat and jaw it was clear to him that the rope had had him, at least for a time. He'd heard of such a thing happening; carelessness or cruelty and a man might dangle at the end of a rope for long minutes, slowly strangling, rather than the quick and clean snap of the neck decreed by the law.

It had been nearly sunset when the end had come. All too clearly, Gwillam knew what had happened. Though he'd thought Robin saved, and Gwill reprieved, at least until the King pronounced judgment, it was all too clear that father and brother, too, had met their fate, and the executioner had been more skilful in his duties, after botching Gwillam's hanging. The sunset bells had rung; he'd been cut down; they'd had pity on Seledrith and allowed her to spend the night with her condemned husband. But now...

He fought for breath through the pain in his throat, breath that scraped and scoured his windpipe as it moved in and out again.

'Gwillam!' Seledrith stood at his side, her arms about him.

He smiled sadly at her, bent dizzily to the bed to lay a kiss upon the forehead of his sleeping son, and eased his arms around his wife for a last embrace.

His strength failed him, but he found himself held upright, not just by Seledrith's embrace but the strong arms on either side, and he sagged into the grip of King and guardsman.

Bravely, he husked, 'Ready.' It was the least he could do for Seledrith, the least, and perhaps the most: to go quietly, not to grieve her further by fighting, or worse, begging. To make a good end.

'I think not,' the King said in answer, and Gwillam felt himself lifted, and then laid on the bed once more as Seledrith scooped the baby out of the way.

'He's as bad as ever you were, Denny, for getting up before the healers say it's time,' the guardsman said, looking over his shoulder.

'I learned it from Pippin,' Denny's voice came from the doorway, loud and glad, and then Robin ducked under his arm, rushing to the bedside, throwing himself upon Gwillam with a hug and pulling away again to look into his brother's face.

'You're awake!' he said. 'O Will, you're awake, and all will be well...'

Gwillam blinked at him, beyond speech, for a torrent of hobbits were spilling through the door, washing around taller bodies--Turambor, Eliniel, Denny, a healer or two--and then the bedcovers heaved on the other bed, and Gwillam saw his father surface, throwing the covers back, and he heard his father's voice speak his name.

'Gwillam--Will!' But a healer's assistant hurried to Gwill's side, scolding gently that he was not to get up until the morrow, and was there anything he wanted: a drink of water, perhaps, or...

Beyond wonder, Gwillam stared, and then hands were easing him back against the pillows they'd propped, and the King was saying something about ice chips to begin, and broth to strengthen him, for swallowing would be painful for the next few days...

And Denny spoke some of his nonsense, and Seledrith...

Seledrith laughed, hugging the baby close; she threw back her head and laughed, the joyous sparkling laugh that had attracted Gwillam to her from the first, the laugh he'd thought he'd never hear again.

'Go on with you, Denny,' Eliniel said, giving her tall son in law a push, and though the tears shone in her eyes, she was grinning, and she made her way to the bed and took the baby from Seledrith. 'Give your husband a proper welcome now, do,' she directed.

And it did not seem to matter that the room was filled with people she hardly knew. Seledrith sat down upon the bed, her arms going around Gwillam, and she kissed him and gently laid her head against his cheek, and closing her eyes she thought how nice it would be to stay there forever, in the circle of his arms.

And then the baby hiccoughed, for he was awake, and hungry, and it was time for life to resume its flow.

(TBC)

Chapter 32. Of Secrets and Sleepyheads

In the marketplace the gossip and speculation were spreading like puff-penny seeds on a windy day.

Workmen had come to take down the boards nailed over the doors and windows of the little linen shop, just as if they were preparing for an auction, though the Crown had never been known to move quite so quickly before to dispose of seized and forfeited property. Yes, and the holes left by the nails had been filled with putty, and the trim shone with a fresh and shiny coat, and...

'I thought you said they pardoned them,' the bookbinder said to the tailor, nodding at the face of shops where staring merchants and shoppers stood in clusters, watching furnishings being carried out--some carried away altogether, and others left in the street, covered by tarpaulins, while interior work was done--workmen were traipsing in and out with buckets and brushes, tools and other implements. It was all just as if the premises were being refurbished, made to look "like new" before the auction was announced.

'That is what the King said,' the tailor replied, his brow furrowed in puzzlement and concern.

'So...' the bookbinder said, guessing, 'they came away with their lives, but lost their property?'

'Or so it looks,' the tailor said, and the cobbler joined the conversation.

' "Lives" is something,' he said with a firm nod. 'What with all of Turambor's family to help, they'll soon be on their feet again, even if for a time they have to make do at the greengrocer's stand. That Gwillam is a hard worker, and his Seledrith sets the neatest stitches of anyone I know.'

The tailor snorted but he had to nod in agreement.

Another bedstead came out in pieces and was laid to rest, and the mattress was loaded on a wain to be taken away with a few other items, trunks, chests and wardrobes, probably containing most of the worldly possessions of the little family.

'P'rhaps the King doesn't know,' a farmer said, but quailed at the stony looks his remark elicited.

'He knows, all right,' the purveyor of sugar-crusted roasted nuts said darkly. 'Fancy him not knowing... he has one of those Seeing Stones, after all, and...'

There was a wise nodding of heads at this, though the Stones were more fabled than fact, and none there had actually seen one. (The bookbinder remembered the light flickering from the high tower where the Lord Denethor had waited the coming of the assault on Minas Tirith, but said nothing.)

'There's nothing to be done for it,' the tailor said, glancing guiltily at the greengrocer's stand, where Airin and Turamir were doing a brisk business.

'We could eschew the auction,' the cobbler said.

'Nay, someone would be buying, farmers from outside the City, maybe, or strangers...' the tailor said, with an apologetic half-bow to the listening farmers in the group. 'I say, save what we can for the family, not that we'd bid against one another, but... if an outsider is bidding, then we chime in, but if one of us is buying, the others stay silent...'

He glanced about at the shocked faces around him, for the idea sounded vaguely treasonous, even in his own ears. Doggedly he went on. 'I have a little put by for a rainy day...' The others were not convinced, he saw, but even as the conversation turned to another topic, he privately resolved that old Gwill's rocking chair, and the old man's pipe, and perhaps the cradle, if the "little" might be stretched so far, would greet the family on their return to the marketplace.

***

Gwillam traced the seal of the King with a trembling fingertip.

'Signed by both Steward and King,' Turambor said in awe. 'Your pardon, lad, or perhaps we ought to call it a life warrant...'

'And the death warrant was burned up,' Hilly said with a definite nod. 'I saw it with my own eyes; the Steward laid it upon the fire at the whipping ground, with his own hand, and it is burned to ashes.'

'So you see, all is well, my love,' Seledrith said, spooning another chip of melting ice to her husband's lips. 'You need to "drink" plenty this afternoon; the King has ordered it.'

Far be it from me to defy the King's orders, Gwillam thought with a smile as he obediently accepted the ice from the spoon. It was cold and refreshing on his tongue, and trickled gently down his ravaged throat.

'Far be it from our Gwillam to defy the King!' Denny said nearby, his arm around Merileth, who had come from the marketplace as soon as the children were put down for naps. She had wanted to see for herself that Gwill and Gwillam were alive, if not completely well. At the moment she was holding baby Robin, looking forward to the fruit of her own coming confinement, when the babe hidden away would no longer be a heavy weight, holding her down and robbing her of sleep, but would be in her arms, like this sleepy little one, and able to be laid in a cradle to give rest to his mother.

'No, he's of an age where he no longer needs to listen to a foolish old man,' Gwill said.

'No, he can make his own foolish mistakes,' Denny said, and Gwillam relaxed and smiled, for that was what he'd opened his own mouth to rasp, and Denny had saved him the trouble and the scolding of his wife as well.

'Denethor!' Seledrith said. Ah, well, it seemed that scolding would go forward, but directed at Denny instead of Gwillam. 'I'll have you know my husband is a very wise man indeed! Why, Gwill said he had to argue long and hard to get Gwillam to agree to enter the Shire in the first place...'

'He did!' Robin said. 'I was there; I heard the whole argument!'

'You were asleep!' Gwill said in surprise, and Gwillam couldn't help laughing, even though it came out as a husking wheeze, and made him cough and nearly strangle upon the last of the melting ice chip.

When the cough had been soothed and Gwillam had been settled again with a fresh spoonful of ice, Merry said to no one in particular, 'So they always want you to think. Tricksy, those little ones...'

'Tricksy?' said Estella from one side, and 'Little ones?' said Diamond on his other side. Pippin had gone away in response to a summons from Ferdibrand, and she pulled Farry closer to drop a kiss upon his curls before letting him go to join the game of chances that the young hobbits were playing on the rug, for she had a goodly idea of what Pippin was discussing at that very moment.

'I cannot tell you the number of "secrets" Pippin hinted at,' Merry said with a roll of his eyes. 'Secrets spoken betwixt myself and Frodo in the deepest dark of the night, when we were sure that young Pippin was sleeping...'

'Breathe evenly,' Robin said to the wide-eyed young hobbits, 'do not screw your eyes too tightly closed, and put in an occasional snore.'

'Not to mention if you murmur in your "sleep",' one of the young Gamgees said with a grin, and his brother gave him a punch on the shoulder for revealing such a secret.

'And so they will let us out of here on the morrow?' Gwill said, his eyes once more going to Gwillam's bruised face. 'We may go home?'

'On the morrow,' Eliniel said firmly, though her last glimpse of Gwill's home had been the boarded-up door and windows. She resolved that the dear old man would be made comfortable wherever "home" might be for him, next day, even if it had to be in back of the greengrocer's stand, at least until the legalities were sorted out.

Home again, home again, jiggety-jog, sang Merileth softly to the babe in her arms, and the little eyes closed at last.

Chapter 33. All Work and No Play 

The small party that rode through the Gates of the New City that day elicited little comment, for though one of them rode masked and hooded, his family with him were known to the guards, the Queen rode at his side, her escort trailing the group, and he, himself, was known by reputation if not personal acquaintance. Save one... an officer, who blinked and belatedly raised a hand in greeting as they passed, receiving a silent nod in return.

They rode to the Houses of Healing, where the hooded one dismounted, speaking a few quiet words to his wife. She nodded, taking the reins of his horse, and she and Arwen rode on with their children to the Citadel. Possibly they'd be walking the market that afternoon, or busy about other affairs.

The hooded one received bows of respect as he entered the Houses of Healing, and one of the healers who had been waiting for his arrival walked beside him, talking quietly, until they reached Haldoron's room, where he gave a nod of dismissal and a word of thanks.

Elessar rose from the bed at his entrance. 'Halbadhor,' he said.

'I set out as soon as your message arrived,' the hooded one said, and a wryness came into his voice as he added, 'Your lady wife was already on her way back to the city and my wife had decided to accept her invitation and "go shopping"...'

Elessar snorted softly. 'If you did not live in such isolation, she would not spend so much coin on an occasional visit...'

'Be that as it may,' the hooded one said, cutting off the King mid-sentence with the ease of old familiarity. 'What has my addle-headed brother done now?'

'He has restored his honour,' Elessar said quietly, looking down at the sleeping figure.

'And so he will continue as Steward of the North-kingdom, and all will be again well?' Halbadhor said. 'Or are you still wanting me to carry my share of the load?'

'That is what I summoned you to discuss,' Elessar said, but he was precluded from saying more by the arrival of a hobbit, who walked confidently enough into the room but hesitated on seeing the hooded man, a right ruffian to all appearance.

'Ferdibrand,' Elessar said, putting out a staying hand. 'This is Haldoron's brother, Halbadhor.'

The hobbit stood tense, neither offering his service nor bowing; he acknowledged the introduction with only a terse nod.

'I am no ruffian,' said Halbadhor mildly, for Elessar had told him of this particular hobbit as they fished by the stream. 'I wear the mask simply to spare the sensibilities of others.'

Ferdi looked to the King, in question, and Elessar nodded.

'Orcs?' the hobbit said. 'Like Haldoron?'

Halbadhor chuckled, though no humour was in the sound, and he met the hobbit's gaze squarely. 'Not quite,' he said. 'Mine were the easier scars to acquire, through fire and desperate battle, whereas my brother had the more difficult task of enduring.'

'Orcs discovered and attacked a hidden village of the Dunedain,' the King said, 'not long after Halbarad rode to the Southlands. Haldoron led the children to hiding, prepared to sell himself dearly if the Orcs found them, while Halbadhor and the wives and mothers of the village held off the attackers so long as possible, even as the houses burned around them.'

'And then Haldoron led the children and those who survived the fire to refuge in Imladris, but that is a tale for a long and rainy day, to be told before the hearth with a limitless supply of ale,' Halbadhor said.

'So Haldoron has a fair amount of skill in leading children, it sounds like,' Ferdi said, though he had not relaxed but stood as if poised for flight.

'I am no ruffian,' Halbadhor repeated, and pulling the bottom of the mask from the collar of his tunic he lifted the fabric away, slightly, to show a little of the ruin the flames had left.

Ferdi blinked and took a shaky breath, then nodded.

Satisfied, Halbadhor tucked the fabric in once more.

'I was almost forgetting what I meant to say,' Ferdi said, turning to the King. 'You told me the Steward would be wakening soon, and that I should send for Pippin, and so I did; but he looks as deeply asleep as ever he was...'

'He will waken soon,' Elessar said, and as if in answer there was a groan from the bed, and the masked man moved to the bedside.

'Ah, Haldoron,' he said. 'What foolishness have you done now?'

'A great foolishness,' Haldoron muttered, forcing one eye open and peering up over his shoulder at his brother. 'As you so kindly informed the King in your letters to him while he was still in the Southlands.'

'Someone had to make you see reason,' Halbadhor said, 'and if you wouldn't heed my warning, whom would you heed?'

'I have been blinded by grief,' Haldoron said. 'Anger, and despair... Not fit...'

'...and that is why I'm here,' Halbadhor said. 'Come to bear my share of the burden. I've been hunting and fishing long enough, and it is time to take up the sword once more.'

'Battle?' Haldoron said, confused.

'In a manner of speaking,' Halbadhor said, and the King chuckled.

'It is a battle, of sorts,' he said. 'You're stale, old friend, and worn down, and...'

'In need of a holiday?' Pippin said helpfully from the doorway.

'Ah, the Thain has arrived,' Elessar said.

'A holiday...?' Haldoron said, forcing himself up with his hands and rolling to a seated position. He shook his head to clear it of the lingering effects of the draught, and winced at the pain of his back, though it was healing in a remarkable manner thanks to the application of athelas. 'What sort of nonsense...?'

'My cousin is famed for his nonsense,' Ferdi said lightly, 'though in this case I'd agree. When he's been too long indoors, listening to complaints, and I notice that he's stopped listening, I put a stop to things.'

'He does,' Pippin said ruefully. 'Sometimes I wonder just who is in charge of things...'

'It helps,' Ferdi said in a lofty tone, 'that he is the younger cousin.'

'Helps very much indeed,' Elessar agreed, and turned once more to Haldoron. 'Your brother has agreed to take your place while you are elsewhere occupied...'

'Elsewhere,' Haldoron interrupted. 'I'm not sure I like the sound...'

'The Prince of the Halflings,' Elessar began, and the other two men snorted, for having guarded the Shire and the Breeland for the better part of their lives, they knew how the Shire-folk themselves would have reacted to such an epithet, 'has made a request of the King, that...'

'Are you to set me to guarding the Bounds of the Shire?' Haldoron said. 'Is that to be the consequences of my failing to listen to the advice of hobbits?'

'I had considered the notion,' Elessar said with a thoughtful air. 'However, Pippin's request came as I was considering, and I am of a mind to grant his petition.'

'His petition,' Haldoron said, when the King stopped.

'He wishes to send his son to the Southlands, to Gondor, for a time of learning,' Elessar said. 'As you know, young Faramir Took would be seen as a prize by renegade Men seeking the Thain's gold. His escort must be carefully chosen.'

Ferdibrand barely suppressed himself from rolling his eyes. Carefully chosen, aye, and for more reasons than one. Headstrong, the lad was, for starters.

'I'll be sending Ferdibrand along, of course,' Pippin said with a nod for his cousin (and ignoring Ferdi's hastily concealed shock), 'but I was discussing the need for an experienced Captain to lead the escort, one somewhat familiar with hobbits, but also well-versed with travel in the Wilderlands.'

Ferdi definitely did not like the sounds of this. Nor did Haldoron. It seemed that the two were in complete agreement on this matter, at least, from the glance that they exchanged before Haldoron spoke.

'Wilderlands?' he said.

'My son would like to retrace the journey of the Nine,' Pippin said. 'Insofar as it is possible, of course.' He sighed. 'I would love to accompany him myself, but am much encumbered by matters of business at present.'

'Retrace...' Ferdi said.

'Yes, Ferdi,' Pippin said briskly. 'Isn't this a stroke of luck? Here you were just saying the other day that you wished you'd seen even half the wonders I'd told you of, and...'

'Wishing and wanting are two different matters entirely, cousin,' Ferdi began, but Pippin laughed and spoke over his protest.

'Well here is your chance!' he said gaily. 'The King has offered to provide a seasoned escort for the journey, and...'

The rest of his speech was lost on Ferdibrand, and Haldoron, who had locked glances once more. It seemed they were going on a journey together, whether they wanted to, or no.

'In the meantime, before we speak any further of far-travelling,' Elessar said, bringing the two future travellers back to the present conversation, 'we must make some plans for the morrow.'

'The morrow,' Haldoron said faintly. Surely tomorrow could not hold anything more difficult than the task that loomed before him sometime in the not-so-distant future.

Chapter 34. A Token of Gratitude

 As if the refurbishing of the little linen shop had not been enough, the previous day, this morning quite a stir rippled the marketplace. The Queen was walking the market! The visiting hobbits, too, were there, parents and children together, resplendant in their finest, and it wasn't even the first day of the week!

Nor was it Arwen's usual day, for certain, but she was walking the market, smelling the flowers at the flower vendors', accepting a paper full of sugar-crusted nuts, hot enough to sting the fingers, considering a pipe intricately carved to resemble the bearded face of a dwarf.

A guard had been stationed by the door of the linen shop on the previous evening, relieved with the morning light, and the queen went over to speak with the current guardsman.

'The auction will be this day!' rippled the rumour through the marketplace. A number of tradesmen fingered the coins in the pockets that hung from their belts, wondering if there would be enough to save the most important possessions of the family.

Arwen nodded, the guard snapped to attention and saluted, and the Queen took her leave, moving to the tailor's shop and bringing out a glove that needed repair. 'The stitching is a delicate matter,' she said.

The tailor was momentarily distracted as a wain drew up before the little linen shop across the way and workmen jumped out, bringing the wardrobes and chests that had been taken away the previous day, and the mattresses to the freshly waxed-and-polished bedsteads that had been carried in again just before the sun had sought her rest, along with the other furnishings, once the chimney-sweeping and floor scrubbing and whitewashing had been completed.

The windows sparkled in the morning sun, and bright and clean were the mattress covers. Likely stuffed with fresh straw, thought the tailor to himself... and he was correct. 'Very delicate,' he agreed. 'I'll do my best...' Though Seledrith would have done better, he thought. 'When would you want this, my Lady?'

'Next week will be soon enough,' Arwen said with a smile. 'I'll call for the glove on my regular day.' She gave a sweet and tinkling laugh, as if it were a great joke that she should walk the market on this day of all days, and the tailor smiled despite his gloomy thoughts.

In the meantime the street before the Houses of Healing was a-bustle with activity. Haleth and his men, once again polished to a high gleam, stood at attention. They would be escorting Jack, Will and Rob this day, but in a very different manner than the last time.

Bergil stood holding the bridles of the two finest war-horses belonging to the King of Gondor and Arnor, and these were groomed to a glossy finish, their hoofs freshly blacked and shining, wearing their finest gear studded with silver and jewels, such as was seldom seen save on the highest and most festive occasions, Ring Day, perhaps, or the celebration of the New Year. Arwen's own hands had early that morning braided their manes with sparkling diamonds in settings of mithril-silver, and they were a fine and brave sight indeed.

Old Gwill walked out of the Houses of Healing on the arm of the King, but he stopped at the threshold, quite overcome at the grandeur confronting him. 'My... my goodness,' he quavered.

'Are you well, dear Father?' Seledrith said beside him, releasing Gwillam's arm to turn to the old man.

Gwill shook himself visibly and smiled at his sons, for Robin stood just beyond Gwillam, and at his daughter in law, who'd taken his hand and was peering intently into his face. 'I am an old fool, but you already knew that,' he said, standing straighter.

Seledrith kissed him on the cheek. 'You are an old dear,' she said, 'nothing more... and nothing less.'

'I beg to differ!' Denny said from behind them, Merileth on his arm. 'A great deal more, I'd say!'

Gwillam said nothing, but he turned to give Denny a grateful look. He was under strict orders to hold his tongue, but it didn't seem to matter, so long as Denny was his shadow, voicing whatever needed to be said.

Elessar frowned. 'The wind is somewhat brisk this morning,' he said, and in the next moment he had unclasped his cloak and was drawing it around the old man's shoulders!

'My... my Lord, I...' Gwill said, for the second time uncharacteristically fumbling for words.

'We cannot have you taking a chill,' Seledrith said firmly, with an approving look. She had lost her fear of Elessar, if not her awe, and found him eminently sensible as well as merciful and just. 'And you, Gwillam, are you warm enough?' she added.

Gwillam smiled and nodded, but Haldoron stepped up to them, removing his own cloak, and when Gwillam opened his mouth to protest, the Steward raised a warning finger. 'Not a word,' he said sternly.

Gwillam gulped, and soon found himself enveloped in Haldoron's fine cloak, with the fur that lined the neck tucked closely around his throat, though not uncomfortably snug, and the deed had been done gently indeed.

With the King's assistance, Gwill mounted one of the shining horses, and then Elessar directed Gwillam and Robin to ride together on the other horse, and so they mounted, Robin behind his older brother, his arms clasped firmly about Gwillam's waist.

Turambor, bearing baby Robin, stepped up to Seledrith's side, and Eliniel to her other side. 'Isn't this fine?' Eliniel said in an undertone. 'Have you ever seen the like?'

'The Coronation might have been finer,' Seledrith whispered, though she had been very young at the time, 'or the King's wedding, perhaps, but...' She shook her head, and tears came to her eyes as the silver trumpeters at the head of the file raised their instruments to their lips and blew a fanfare. 'No,' she said decidedly. 'I've never seen the like.'

Elessar led Gwill's mount, and Haldoron led Gwillam and Robin's, and the trumpeters preceded them, blowing fanfares, and Bergil marched behind these, shouting after each musical flourish, 'Behold! Thus it is done for the ones whom the King would honour!'

And so the procession wound through the streets of the city into its heart, gathering quite a following along the way, and on to the market place, where all fell silent as the fanfares grew nearer and louder. People came out of the shops, their errands forgotten, while Queen and hobbits gathered before the open door of the little linen shop and awaited developments.

Straight through the centre of the market they marched, right up to the door of the little shop, and there Haleth's men formed lines to either side of the doorway. The King helped old Gwill from the saddle, and Haldoron waited for Gwillam and Robin to dismount before handing off the reins to Bergil, who led both splendid horses to one side.

'Welcome!' Pippin said, stepping forward, quite as if the shop belonged to him. 'Well come, indeed!'

Old Gwill wore a wondering look, as if he suspected he might be dreaming, and Gwillam and Robin moved to steady him from either side as they stared at the brightly painted trim, and peered through the doorway to see all within scrubbed and tidy. As a matter of fact, when they entered the premises after all the pomp and ceremonies were over, they found newly-baked bread on a table laid for luncheon, and stew simmering over the fire in the kitchen, and the beds freshly made with clean, wind-scented linens, and in the wardrobes and chests the clothes had been washed and dried, pressed and folded with herbs in the folds, and fires had been laid ready for sparking on the hearths, and the ewers were full of fresh-drawn water, and all manner of little comforts had been tucked away here and there.

'I...' Gwill said, for Haleth's proclamation still rang in his ears. Forfeit to the Crown.

'It was the least we could do,' Arwen said, extending her hand to Seledrith. 'Put out of your home, with spring-cleaning time upon you, and not even able to take clothes for yourself or the baby...'

Airin, standing near the front of the crowd, did not see fit to correct this assumption on the part of the Queen. However, Airin and many others standing there that day received the impression that it was possible that the policy of confiscating the property from the family of a law-breaker might undergo some alteration in future.

'Gwill o'Dale, and Gwillam and Robin, sons of Gwill,' Pippin said grandly, raising his voice though silence reigned in the market place. 'I proclaim you Shire-friends, nay, heroes of the Shire, who have, with your selfless and courageous actions, won the gratitude of Thain...'

'...and Master,' put in Merry, at Pippin's side.

'...and Mayor!' Samwise said decidedly from the Thain's other side.

'...and so, we grant you and your descendants the freedom of the Shire, from now and henceforth!' Pippin said, extending three rolls of parchment, each tied with a bright ribbon.

Gwill took a shaky breath, and his eyes glimmered with tears as he looked to the King. 'My Lord?' he whispered.

Elessar nodded with a smile. Who was he to gainsay Master, Mayor, and Thain?

Chapter 35. A Long-Awaited Celebration

It was the last day of the week, the rest day, and the market was closed. The flower vendors took turns, early in the morning each Highday, that bouquets might be bought for mothers or sweethearts, but even these would conclude all business by the middle of the morning, leaving the market deserted, well-scrubbed tables neatly stacked before the shop-faces, stones swept clean, ready for another day on the morrow.

On this day the market was deserted, but not lifeless. The tailor and his wife hurried across the stones under a misting of spring rain, arriving at the greengrocer's stand to a warm welcome as they ducked beneath the awning stretched in front of the shop front. Tables had been brought into the work area and set up along the edges; on one side of the room benches had been lined up to make hobbity tables, with pillow-topped wooden boxes for seats. Two fiddlers and a piper were playing, a drummer anchoring them with his beat, and dancers were swirling in the centre of the workspace. Talk and laughter competed with the music, and people spilled out of the workroom and into the kitchen, dining and sitting rooms behind the workspace, talking and singing, eating and drinking.

'Tom!' The tailor turned at the cry and broke into a wide grin.

'Gwill!' he cried in return, hurrying to pump the arm of one of the honoured guests at this celebration. 'You're looking remarkably well!'

'I'm feeling remarkably well!' the old man returned, and truly he looked as if a score of years had fallen from him during the six weeks that had passed since his fall and restoration.

'Well come, Tom,' Gwillam said, his voice still somewhat husky, his eyes perhaps more thoughtful than they'd been, but his smile as warm as ever.

'Master Tailor!' came an enthusiastic greeting from Robin, and the tailor met his grin with one of his own.

'Master Fisher!' he returned. 'I've not had a good fish dinner for more than a month...!'

'Tomorrow, for certain,' Robin said.

'The morrow!' the tailor said.

Old Gwill clapped him on the shoulder. 'The morrow,' he agreed. 'We're back to the fishing on the morrow, old friend, first day of the week as always.' Though there was no need to avoid the hobbits these days, by going out to fish on the first day of the week when it had been Diamond's habit to visit the market in past visits. No, for the hobbits came to the shop nearly every day, these days.

'Robin's going to show us his favourite fishing hole,' came a voice from somewhere near the floor, and the tailor looked down to find several excited young hobbits looking up. One he recognised as the eldest son of the Ernil, and two were sons of the Mayor, but he wasn't sure of the identities of the others.

'My lords,' said the tailor with a bow, and the young hobbits, to do them credit, were able to stifle laughter and return creditable bows of their own.

'But come along, Robin!' young Faramir Took said, tugging at Robin's hand. 'You were going to tell us the tricks of the trout hereabouts...'

'If you'll excuse us,' Robin said, and allowed himself to be pulled away.

The music ended with a flourish, and the greengrocer stepped from floor to chair to table top to gain the attention of the crowd. 'If I may...' he said with a bow, and the crowd quieted. The fiddlers imitated a fanfare, and Turambor held out his arms in a grand gesture. 'If I may have the pleasure,' he said.

'You may!' the tailor shouted, and there was a general laugh.

'My thanks, Counsellor!' Turambor said with a bow to the tailor, and Tom blushed, for the office was still a wonder to him, having been bestowed bare weeks before by the King. But he did not lose his smile, merely waved for the greengrocer to continue.

'If I may have the pleasure of introducing my newest granddaughter!' Turambor said, and then Denny was ducking through the entryway from the stairs, holding the door for his wife, Merileth, who walked carefully, bearing a blanketed bundle in her arms. There were ohs and ahs from the crowd, and soft murmurs.

'Fa! Fa! Fa!' chortled Denny's small son, and the tall man bent down to lift the little one to his shoulder, that he might beam upon the crowd and his tiny sister. 'Gweth!' the boy said in satisfaction. 'My Gweth!'

'Our Gwesthiel,' Denny said, putting his free arm around Merileth and leaning to kiss her cheek. 'Come, love, sit yourself down and let the well-wishers come to you.' He manoeuvred Merileth to a comfortable chair that had been placed for just that purpose, sat her down, and stood by her side, accepting congratulations as his due.

The crowd parted to allow the distinguished visitors to approach: Thain, Master and Mayor, their families with them, as well as Ferdibrand and Hildibold Took and their families--quite a crowd in themselves! The wives cooed over the baby, the husbands winked at the proud father, the children exclaimed over the tiny fingers that showed above the blanket ("Look how big they are!") and then Gwill stepped in to escort them to their places at the feast to follow.

When all the well-wishers had filed past, the trays of food began to pass down the tables, Eliniel and Airin, Seledrith and several neighbours taking care that the food was plentiful and came hot from the kitchen.

Pippin found himself sharing a bench-table with old Gwill and his sons, who sat upon cushions on the floor. 'You've thought of everything,' he said.

'Seledrith,' Gwillam said proudly. 'She and Denny worked out all the arrangements--he knew what would suit hobbits, and she knew all the rest.'

'And no doubt she worked you from dawning until twilight to carry out her plans,' Pippin said, but Gwillam only smiled.

'Is that not the function of a wife?' Diamond said in an innocent tone.

'Indeed, my love,' Pippin said, seizing her hand and laying a kiss there before releasing it again. He took a drumstick from the passing tray and looked at his loaded plate in satisfaction. 'They do things quite properly here,' he said. 'Plenty of food...'

'And plenty more where that came from!' Denny said from the head table nearby, where he sat holding the babe so that Merileth could eat.

'Not like the palace feasts in Minas Tirith,' Pippin said. 'You ought to have seen them! Fancy food, difficult on the digestion at best, arranged artistically but sparsely on the plate as if it were a picture, and about as edible!'

'We are believers in plain fare,' Turambor said, handing along a platter of roasted vegetables, 'and plenty of it!'

'Very sensible,' Pippin said. 'I can see why Denny and Gwillam married into your family.'

'They reminded me of Shire-folk, truth be told,' Gwill said with a twinkle in his eye. 'Turambor was my first friend in the new city.'

'Short of stature but great of heart,' Turambor said. 'That is what the men of Minas Tirith say of the folk of Lossarnoch.'

'...and his daughter was the best thing that ever happened to my business,' Gwill continued.

'And to me!' Gwillam said, watching Seledrith at her serving. Something made her look over, and their gaze met, and a smile touched both faces at the same time before she turned her attention once more to the task at hand.

There was much cheerful and pleasant talk before the dancing started again. Even old Gwill danced, claimed first by Seledrith and then by Eliniel, and when he was out of breath he eased himself down again, his eyes sparkling.

'It is good to see you so well,' Diamond said, patting his hand.

'Thank you, my lady,' Gwill said, with a bow of his head. He turned to one of the young hobbits sitting between Pippin and Diamond and said suddenly, 'But what is this I see? Did you not wash behind your ears this morning, as your mother no doubt taught you to do?'

Little Forget-me-not giggled as he reached out an empty hand, bringing it back with a small copper coin.

'My goodness!' Gwill said, affecting surprise. 'Are all young hobbits in the habit of keeping pennies in their ears?'

'Mostly just the Tooks,' Merry said, 'although it has been known in other families as well.'

'Shire-folk are full of surprises,' Gwill said, but in his eyes held a certain wistfulness that belied his bright tone.

'Which reminds me,' Pippin said, leaning forward to gain the attention of all. 'My family are not staying the entire summer, this trip. "We must away 'ere break of day" on the day after Mid-year...'

There was a general groan at this, but Gwill noticed Farry's grin and said, 'What is it, young Farry? Do you long as much as I do to see the Green Hills once more?'

'His eye is on higher hills, if it may be believed,' Pippin said. 'We will set off on the day after Mid-year's Day, to travel to the Brandywine Bridge, and there we will take our leave of our son. We shall return to Tuckburough, and he shall go on to Gondor.'

'Gondor!' came a cry from many at the table, and the young hobbits surrounding the Mayor and his wife seemed especially keen.

'We wondered...' Pippin said, seeming to feel his way now.

'Yes?' Gwillam said after the pause lengthened.

'What is it?' Seledrith said, for she had sat down as well, and was nursing baby Robin under her shawl.

'We wondered if we might steal away your dear Father,' Diamond said impulsively, leaning towards Seledrith, for she would be the one to convince.

'Steal him away?' Seledrith said, and laughed.

'We would like to bring him back to the Shire with us, for the remainder of the summer,' Pippin said. 'There's Gandalf's room in Bag End, which Sam always kept, even after the White Ship sailed...'

'Not much call for a Man-sized bed in the Shire,' Sam said. 'Too much trouble to get rid of it, and a shame to chop up such fine carving for kindling.'

'...and there are Man-sized furnishings in storage in the Great Smials, from the days of Gandalf's friendship with the Old Took,' Pippin said. 'It won't take us long to fix up a guest room...'

'Indeed,' Gwill murmured with a look of wonder.

'And if the weather is fine there'll be camping out in the Green Hills,' Pippin said.

'Sleeping under the stars!' Robin said in excitement. 'O Father, it'll be just like the old days, when we wandered free...'

'Not tied down by shop and responsibilities,' Gwillam said dryly. 'I do think you'll have to take Robin along with you to the Shire.'

'But what about you, my love?' Seledrith said bravely. Her hands tightened unconsciously on the babe, and he stopped nursing to push at her in reflexive response.

Gwill gave a sudden laugh. 'I think, my dear,' he said, 'that surely we could find someone to mind the shop for us...'

But Gwillam shook his head. 'Next year, perhaps,' he said. 'If you are to take up your old practice of summers in the Shire, Father, I think we'll stay here and mind the shop ourselves, with our little Robin still so small.'

'You mean,' Seledrith breathed, 'I might come with you?'

Gwillam put an arm about her and squeezed, gently enough not to disturb the nursing babe. 'Of course,' he said. 'I'd not leave you all alone with the babe, not if I have any choice in the matter!' ...Not even to save his own life. He'd stayed for Seledrith's sake, in the face of grave danger, though of course it had nearly meant a more permanent parting.

'Summers in the Shire; what a lovely idea!' Rose said. The Gamgees did not travel to the Lake quite so often as the Tooks. 'Your family will always find a place at Bag End; you may rest assured on that account!' After all, the smial had been built by a hobbit who loved company.

'Yes, lovely,' Ferdi said gloomily, but he put on a wry smile at Pippin's meaning look. 'I will be on holiday for this summer, seeing the sights, but I certainly look forward to seeing you in the Shire, Gwillam and Seledrith, next summer.'

'If you come in time for the Tookland Pony Races next year, you might see Ferdi's pony beat Pippin's,' Ferdi's wife, Nell, said slyly.

'Or not,' Pippin said, and laughed.

'We'll plan on it, shan't we, dear Father?' Seledrith said firmly.

'I think that we shall,' old Gwill said. 'Yes, let's.'

'Put it in the diary, Ferdi,' Pippin said, 'before you take yourself off to see the sights.'

'Your least wish,' Ferdi began, and shook his head, not completing the thought. Travelling to Gondor was not his greatest desire, no matter that Pippin wished it.

'Here now, your glass is empty,' Sergeant Haleth observed in passing. He carried a tray full of well-filled glasses; as one of Turambor's oldest friends in new Annuminas, he of course had been pressed into service upon his arrival at the party. He plonked down a brimming pint of ale before Ferdibrand. 'We cannot have that!'

Ferdi sipped thoughtfully. Perhaps it would not be such a hard thing, to travel in the company of Men.

Next: Epilogue

Chapter 36. Epilogue

Some months later...

The Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith have wide, tall windows, for light and fresh air are two of the healers' most valuable tools. During times of trouble, great metal shutters were used to shut out the tumult of battle and flying missiles--flaming arrows, perhaps, or stones cast by the great war engines of the Enemy.

On this bright and sunny day, the shutters were folded back, of course, and the sunbeams shone in, lighting the room, for all the good it did. The man in the bed lay deep in gloomy thought with his forearm over his face, shutting out the light and its message of joy and life.

He had failed Elessar's trust once again.

A part of his mind argued that it was scarcely his fault in entirety, that circumstances... but no. That was the coward's retreat. He would rely on no excuses to lighten his responsibility for the matter.

But he was stuck here in this bed, in the blackest of humours, with no hope of escaping. He had tried, actually, but the healers had been expecting trouble and he'd not got far in his attempt.

It seemed he was fated to fail at all he tried.

'I've said "hullo" twice now, and you've not answered.' He knew that voice. Strange to think he'd wept, when he'd thought the hobbit's voice stilled forever, and now he did not want to hear the cheerful tones.

'Go away,' he said.

'This is a change. The last time I came you were overjoyed to see me.'

'Absence makes for a fond heart,' he said. 'So do me the favour of absenting yourself.'

'I think not,' Ferdibrand said, his voice coming closer.

There was a groan as the bed dipped to receive the hobbit's weight, and the man took his arm from his eyes. 'What do you think you are doing?' he asked.

'Sitting down,' the hobbit said, though his face was rather pale from the effort of climbing onto a man-sized bed with one arm in a sling. 'I only wish I did not have to climb up to sit down, if you take my meaning.'

The man put his arm back over his eyes. Really, what future was there for him? He supposed he could always go back to being a Ranger. Perhaps they needed Rangers here in the South.

How could he face Elessar?

'I have a surprise for you.'

'I hate surprises.'

'I know. Nevertheless, you'll have this one. I didn't haul myself up and down all those man-sized steps for nothing.'

There was nothing to be said in answer to this, and so the man said nothing.

'I see we are feeling rather sorry for ourselves,' the hobbit continued.

'I don't know about you,' the man said, 'but you needn't speak for me as if you were a healer.'

'Dastardly insult,' Ferdibrand observed airily. 'Calling me a healer! However... I think I'll forgive you. This time, anyhow.'

'My thanks,' the man said dryly.

'As a matter of fact, I don't just think I shall forgive you, but I shall, well and truly,' Ferdi said.

'Very kind of you,' the man said. 'Now that you've quite finished forgiving me, if you wouldn't mind taking your leave...?'

'It's this matter of duty and all that sort of thing,' Ferdi went on, as if the man hadn't spoken. 'But of course, with you so very ill these past few days, no one's spoken of it to you.'

'Duty,' the man grated.

'O aye,' the hobbit said casually. 'But of course when hobbits are involved things can get out of hand, and easily, too. I don't know why that is. Hobbits are a quiet folk, stick to themselves for the most part, "perishing dull" as the Thain says, but put them in the charge of Men and all sorts of out of the ordinary things are likely to happen. Why, in the time of the Troubles, some hobbits actually turned rebels, you know!'

'Spare me.'

'O yes, quite!' The hobbit lowered his tone then. 'Confidentially speaking, the King himself was a miserable failure when it came to keeping hobbits...'

The man started and pulled his arm down, to stare at the hobbit.

'O aye,' the hobbit nodded wisely, 'it's not common knowledge, but I have it from the Thain himself. Time after time...'

'I don't believe it.'

'Well of course the minstrels set it to music and smoothed the rough edges to make a nice story, but the truth of the matter is... Time after time, that particular Ranger failed in his duties, and if you were to talk to him about it, he'd be the first to admit it!'

'Time after time?'

'Sceptical, are we? "Time after time" I said, and such is the case! Why, from the very start, when Frodo put It on in front of a common room full of men and hobbits...'

'That was hardly Elessar's fault!'

'He sat there and let it happen, knowing what sorts of pressures might be asserting themselves against my cousin on the Enemy's part.'

The man wished to assert that it was hardly fair to lay such blame at the Ranger's feet, but the hobbit took the bit in his teeth and was off at a gallop.

'And that disastrous shortcut--I should think that a Ranger of all people should know that short cuts make for long delays! And any other number of missteps and errors on his part--it's a wonder he ever became King at all! It's a good thing he has a great deal of luck...'

The man could scarcely sputter a protest, choking as he was on his words.

'And the greatest failure of all--at Parth Galen,' the hobbit went on inexorably. 'He'll tell you so, himself...'

And the man was suddenly still, and silent. Yes. The King had told him so, himself, when warning him of the difficulties of conducting hobbits in the Wilderlands.

'You have a great deal in common with the King,' Ferdi went on, as the silence stretched out.

'Do I?' the man said dryly.

'Not just that you are close kinsmen, I mean.'

'We're both clumsy and incompetent and saved only by our extraordinary luck, I suppose.'

'There is that,' Ferdi acknowledged with a twinkle in his eye. 'And that you were chief of the Rangers, after Halbarad went south and Halbadhor was injured, just as he was chief of the Rangers...'

'A great deal in common,' the man said wearily, covering his eyes and wishing the hobbit would take the hint and leave him alone.

'And that he has a son, as you did...' Utter silence greeted this off-hand remark. Ferdi was not usually so awkward in his choice of topic.

'I'm an interfering little fellow,' Ferdi said. 'Or so I'm told.'

'Really, I cannot imagine anyone telling you such a thing,' the man said.

'O yes,' the hobbit said wisely. 'And if I am to have such a reputation, well, then, I certainly must do what I can to live up to it...' And raising his voice, he said, 'Come in, my dear; don't be shy!'

The man hastily brought his arm down again and, in alarm, attempted to sit up.

'Steady, Haldor,' the hobbit said. 'You know you're not to get up until...'

But a young woman had entered the room. Young woman? She looked to be no more than a girl, and yet she bore a sleeping toddler in her arms, perhaps two years of age, and a small girl clung to her skirts as she moved from the doorway to the bed and stood there, waiting.

The man sank down again, abandoning the effort to sit up, and blinked up at the young woman's face. 'Yes?' he said. 'Was there something you wanted?'

'Haldoron,' the hobbit said brightly. 'Allow me to present to you a most charming young lady; I met her in the marketplace, or rather, Farry did...'

The young woman bobbed slightly, careful not to disturb the sleeping child.

'Faelaseth,' Ferdi said, 'I would like you to meet Haldoron, Steward of Arnor, though he is at present on holiday.'

A smile lifted the corners of the young woman's mouth. 'I am charmed,' she said, her voice low and pleasant.

'The pleasure is mine,' Haldoron said without thinking, the polite response coming back to him though it had been quite some time...

'Indeed!' Ferdi said. 'Tell him who you are, my dear!'

Faelaseth sobered quickly. 'Perhaps you won't be quite so pleased,' she said, and swallowed hard.

'He doesn't bite,' Ferdi said. 'I believe Elessar has had all his teeth drawn, as a matter of fact...'

Haldoron rolled his eyes. 'If you would,' he said. 'I think you are being entirely too helpful at present.'

'Too interfering, you mean,' Ferdi said. 'Very well, then, I shall desist, but only if Faelaseth tells you what the sergeant told me...'

'The sergeant...?' Haldoron said, raising an eyebrow.

'Really,' the young woman said, shifting the toddler in her arms. 'I had hoped to meet you under completely different circumstances.'

When it seemed that the woman could not find the words to go on, Ferdi took to interfering once more. 'Allow me to present, Lord Haldoron, your daughter in law.'

'My...' Haldoron said, at a complete loss. 'I don't...'

'I heard all about your views on guardsmen and marriage from Haldorion,' Faelaseth said. 'You told him he should not marry until he had achieved enough rank and status to keep a wife and family, and I told him that I did not wish to wait until I was old, too old to bear children, perhaps... That has been a trouble in the White City for too long, and was one of the reasons why so many fine houses stood empty, and why there was such a lack of children in Minas Tirith before the coming of the King.'

'I...' began Haldoron.

'You leave a man to his own devices for too many years, and he might not marry at all,' Faelaseth said. 'Haldorion asked me to wait, and I told him I would not.'

'And so he married you,' Ferdi said with a definite nod. 'Sensible fellow.'

'And he never told...'

'He sent word to you, invited you to our wedding,' Faelaseth said, her shoulders stiff, her tone defensive. 'Six years ago, it was.'

Haldoron shook his head. 'I never had word,' he said. 'The message must have gone astray.' Or the messenger shot, by ruffians, just as his son had been murdered while relaying messages in the service of the King between newly rebuilt Tharbad and Sarn. Sometimes messengers went missing, and a search turned up no clue, whether wild animal or rogue, and thereafter messengers would go out in larger numbers for a time, but if things continued quiet there was no reason to continue such a wasteful use of manpower... 

'We thought from your silence that you disapproved,' Faelaseth said, 'and so he thought he'd wait to argue you into accepting me, when he received a permanent posting. For as a messenger, he travelled much, and only came to Minas Tirith a few times in the year...'

'And that is why...' Haldoron said.

Faelaseth threw back her head. 'I treasured every moment we had together,' she said fiercely, and then lower, she added, '...and if we'd waited, I would have nothing of him now, for he fell to a ruffian's arrow in the North-lands more than two years ago now, and never saw the face of his son...'

Haldoron felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. 'His son...' he whispered.

Faelaseth's face softened in a smile, and she gently laid the sleeping toddler on the breast of the injured man, and Haldoron's arms instinctively closed around the little one, holding him close.

'May I present your grandson, Halbrad,' Faelaseth said gently.

'Grandson,' Haldoron whispered, the tears coming to his eyes.

'And this is your granddaughter, Baineth,' Faelaseth said, drawing the little girl out from her skirts. 'Baineth, this is your grandfather, your father's father, from the North-lands.'

'This is my Fa-fa?' the little one said gravely.

'Yes, my love,' her mother said with a fond look.

The girl climbed up on the bed to drop a whisper-kiss on Haldoron's cheek. 'I love you, Fa-fa,' she said. 'Father said when I was big he'd take me to see you.'

'Baineth,' Haldoron whispered, and reached one arm to pull the little girl closer, even as he continued to hold her small brother... his grandson.

'Well now,' Ferdibrand said, slipping off the bed. 'I had better go and look into what sort of mischief the young hobbits have got up to, now...'

'You go right ahead,' Haldoron said, and looking up to Faelaseth he added, 'How I wish that message had not gone astray... for I cannot imagine, seeing you, that I could ever close my heart against the love of my son's life, or his...' His voice broke as he tried to say "children after him", and the tears of old grief and new joy that he'd tried to hold back at last found release.

The last sight Ferdi had, before he closed the door behind himself, was of tender-hearted Faelaseth bending to the bed to encircle the three of them, Haldoron and his grandchildren, in her loving arms.

I am typing this late at night in a malfunctioning word-processing program, so bear with me.

Author's Notes:

Chapter 5. Shadows of the Past
Jack's rescue of Hilly, Diamond, and Faramir Took, his subsequent taking them hostage in an effort to safely leave the Shire, Pippin's pardon, and Jack's later rescue of young Faramir and Pippin-lad Gamgee are all detailed in All That Glisters.

Chapter 6. Led to the Slaughter
This chapter has been edited to show that there were three names on the death warrant.

Chapter 24. The Whipping Ground and Chapter 25. Consequences
Thanks to Larner for suggesting a plot point.

Chapter 34. A Token of Gratitude
Yes, the procession, the King's cloak, the King's horse, and Bergil's announcement are all borrowed from a well-known Book.

General Notes:
Notes to self and editor (to be deleted after final chapter posts, and please pardon our dust; story under construction, as you know, and email is down at the moment): I don't know if it shows in this story or not, but I really messed up, in my mind at least. Just was reading "Glisters" for continuity and I realised that Seledrith is the middle sister, not the eldest as I've been thinking in my mind while writing this. (And I really ought to have re-read Jack's rescue of the young hobbits before starting this, too. Hopefully the details have been vague enough in this story that any mis-remembering doesn't show.) Now I will have to go back and re-read the early chapters to see if I wrote that mis-fact into this story or not... [k! corrected thru ch. 5]

Yes, I did look up meals in Minas Tirith, and you were right, there is the "morsel taken before dawn" or something like that, and then something mid-morning for those who have had heavy duty, and then "nuncheon" and then the daymeal about sunset. I cannot see the greengrocer's family preparing for the daymeal on this day, though, seeing as how they anticipate claiming the bodies about sunset. Perhaps they'll feed the children and expectant/nursing mothers, but I don't think the rest would have the stomach to eat. So "nuncheon" has been substituted for "daymeal" in chapter 5, and no major meal preparations are evident for an evening meal. [k!]

[Do not forget to look at F's timeline!]
[Are you listening? You had better look at F2's timeline as I think his journey was just before F3's wedding and so that plot thread will have to be put into a different story. But F1 is a possibility. And how come so many names start with F? Do you know we are up to F6?]
(I thought it was F8.)
[Do I hear F10?]
(Very funny.)
[Did you know you've misspelled B's name through out the last few chaps?] 
(Would you believe, all the way back to Ch7? And when will you have email again?)
[E-mail? What's that?]
(Corrected H's name in 33 so that it's not spelled two different ways anymore. Or was it 32? I forget.) [33. k!]
["Haleth" changed to "Haldar" through "Led to the Slaughter". No more time today. k!]

In other news:

The King's Edict: Just what is it, and what does it mean?

All I really know is that in 1427 "King Elessar issues an edict that Men are not to enter the Shire, and he makes it a Free Land under the protection of the Northern Sceptre." (Appendix B)

One wonders, but what about the Great East-West Road that runs smack-dab through the middle of the Shire? Do Men now have to go round? And how would they do that, considering the lack of other roads going towards the Grey Havens? Or do Men have no business there? But I digress...

Now Hobbits, as a rule, seem to be law-abiding folk, and even those who do ill, do such in a lawful manner. Lotho acquired his holdings through purchase, as I recall. Ted Sandyman worked for the new owner(s) of the Mill and was "following orders" in all he did, no matter that the water and air were being polluted.

But Men, on the other hand... What is to prevent men from law-breaking, if they are not on the side of "good"? We have plenty of examples of these, not just those who fought on the side of the Dark Lord, but also the ruffians in the Shire, and Bill Ferny in Bree, and the Master (or was he Mayor? I will have to go back and look) of Laketown, who if not a law-breaker, was certainly shady in his ethics.

In olden times, punishment was not just punishment, but also served as deterrence. They didn't have the concept of "rehabilitation". It was easier and cheaper, as a matter of fact, just to hang someone or cut his head off rather than keeping him imprisoned, if he committed a crime you didn't want him to repeat. Usually imprisonment was an economic decision--a man was imprisoned until he was ransomed or paid his debt or something to that effect. (Or died of starvation, or whatever.)

What would keep Men out of the Shire?

Law-abiding Men would be no trouble. They might wander across the Bounds by accident, but it is to be hoped that the Watchers would be able to tell someone with nefarious motives from someone who made an honest mistake.

But dishonest Men? What's to keep them from sneaking back, for whatever reason (stealing? preying on hobbits?) if they are merely escorted to the Bounds and let go?

Certainly the Rangers are not set up to imprison people. Perhaps they could administer a severe flogging and turn them loose with a warning. It seems more likely, however, from a study of historical modes of justice, that they'd just hang the wretches. Perhaps even leave a few hanging up as a warning to illiterate ruffians who can't read the warning signs.

I rather doubt they'd expend the effort and resources to send trespassers to be tried before the King or other official, capital case notwithstanding, seeing as there aren't a whole lot of large settlements near the outside boundaries of the Shire. I could be wrong, but I think Elessar trusted his Rangers to use their judgement in defending the Shire, and this included the hanging of offenders without a trial, if they were caught in the act (or "on the spot" as it were). Remember that the concept of "innocent until proven guilty" only came into existence in recent times. For the sake of a plot point I am extending this to include someone accused by a credible representative of one of the Counsellors to the North-kingdom. The provision is there, anyhow, though whether a Hobbit would deliberately send a Man to his death by betraying him to the Rangers, knowing the penalty, is another matter. (In another story, Tolly escorts some Men out of the Shire rather than turning them over to the Rangers for just that reason, and gets accused of being in collusion with ruffians.)

If this is too much of a leap, I apologise. Just disregard "All that Glisters" and this particular story.