Chapter 18

The alarm was raised by the Guard sent to inform the Steward that Lord Haralil had evaded the watch at his home and had disappeared. He found the bodies slumped on the floor. When help arrived Tamir, still deeply unconscious, was carried by litter to the Houses of Healing. Legolas and Gimli, alerted from their supper to the scene of the attack, carried Faramir to his own bed to await the arrival of the Warden. He drifted on the edge of consciousness.

 It was only when he rallied half an hour later that the full enormity of the attack became apparent.

“Aragorn,” he gasped, trying to rise.

“Peace Faramir, he has been sent for, he will be here presently.” Faramir’s agitation increased. He fought against the hands that tried to hold him back against the pillows.

“Is he dead?”

“Who…is who dead?”

“Aragorn. Is he dead.” Only then did it dawn on the companions that the King had been present during the attack.

“Faramir, what happened?”

“Lord Haralil, he’s gone mad. He planned to escape the city tonight. They attacked the King and Tamir and when I arrived I was overpowered. He threatened to kill the King and me…I thought they had. We must find him…the city is sealed, he cannot escape. Please, we must find him quickly.”

Imrahil organised the search, calling in all the Tower Guard and the main Garrison to patrol the city and search for the missing King. Legolas and Éowyn took on the task of informing Arwen what had happened. The warden attended Faramir and ordered him to rest. He refused the sedative offered and only reluctantly accepted the pain draught. When the analgesia had taken effect and Faramir could move without nausea he called together an emergency council of Commanders, Lord Beranin, Prince Imrahil, King Éomer, Legolas and Gimli. Éowyn and Arwen joined them, both pale and quiet as ghosts.

Faramir recounted everything that had occurred both at the Harlond and later in his office. He ordered that all of the ex-councillors be taken into custody and questioned, not sure who else had been planning to make their escape and rendezvous with the boat. The Guards  on duty at the entrance to the Citadel were questioned but they could report no suspicious movements.

“He must have had help,” exclaimed Faramir.

“I can believe that he had the means to escape from his own house without detection but how did he gain access to the Citadel when there is but one way in?” asked Gimli.

“Are you suggesting that we have a traitor in the Tower Guard, that someone would betray the King and the Steward?”

“It is a possibility you must consider, Faramir…either that or he is still within the Citadel!”

“I grew up here, Gimli but there are parts of the Citadel, parts of the King’s house that are unknown to me but if he is here we will find him, even if it means taking the place apart stone by stone.”

Arwen was weeping quietly against Éowyn’s shoulder. Faramir knelt at her feet and took her hands.

“Forgive me, My Queen. I should have protected him, I should have realised earlier that Lord Haralil posed a physical threat. I vow I will do everything in my power to bring him back to you safe and sound.”

“Hush, Faramir. You are not to blame for this.” She cupped her hand to his cheek. “You did your best and he would not have wished you to take further harm. You should rest now; I can see that you are in pain.”

“I cannot rest until he is found.”

“You must,” Imrahil insisted. “We will continue the search and I promise we will let you know as soon as we have any news.”

The Warden appeared with another pain draught for Faramir and he reluctantly accepted that he was in no condition to resist their combined insistence. As the pain eased he allowed Éowyn to settle him on a padded couch.

“How is Tamir?” he slurred, on the edge of sleep.

“He is still deeply unconscious, Sir. But Jeaniel is with him and if anyone can bring him back to us she can.”

~~**~~

Daybreak brought no further news. A detailed search of the Citadel had revealed no clues; long forgotten corridors and abandoned rooms were searched and re-searched but no sign of the King or the missing Lord were found.

Search parties combed the city, searching every building and the city gate remained sealed. A messenger reported back from the river that there had been no rendezvous with the boat. The ex-councillors had been questioned. It emerged that Lord Darlon, Lord Haralil’s closest associate, when seized, had been packed and ready to flee; a single man with no family ties he had accepted Lord Haralil’s offer of sanctuary in the south. Faramir had no difficulty accepting his shock at the recent turn of events. He vowed that he had no knowledge of the Lord’s plans to attack Faramir; he was a weak and corrupt politician but he would not have condoned the attack. He along with the rest of the ex councillors were returned to the guard room.

The day dragged on and the search continued. It was impossible to keep the news of the King’s abduction secret and as word of the attack spread the citizens came out of their homes and businesses to join in the search. Every shed, cellar and cavern was searched, newly tilled soil was dug over for signs of a grave, for the whisper had gone round that the King was dead.

As a second day dawned the only good news was that Tamir was beginning to show signs of rousing from his stupor. Faramir paid a visit to the Healing Houses and sat with him for a while. Jeaniel attended him with quiet, red-eyed dignity.

~~**~~

It was a subdued company that gathered together to eat supper; in truth none felt like eating. Word had come that Tamir was awake and lucid, a small crumb of comfort in an otherwise bleak day. Arwen kept to her room no longer able to bear the grief and pity of her friends. Legolas, Gimli and Faramir talked quietly, going over and over old ground trying to find a clue, anything to give them hope or comfort but as time moved slowly on hope began to fade.

A runner sent by the Guard Commander interrupted the strained silence. He was at first too breathless to speak, it took moments for him to gasp out his message.

“Sir,” he said, addressing Faramir. “You are needed at once…Council chamber…they have found a body, Sir!”

Years of command in combat conditions clicked in and Faramir pushed down the icy dread that clenched his guts.

“Éowyn” he spoke quietly but with authority. “Go to Arwen, stay with her until we have news.” She kissed his pale cheek and left.

“Come,” he commanded. “Let us see how this plays out.” Imrahil clasped his shoulder and they followed the soldier in hurried procession. The door to the Council Chamber was guarded. The commander stood to attention.

“We have touched nothing, Sir. We wanted to wait for your arrival.”

“Who…!” Faramir couldn’t force out the rest of the question.

“I don’t know, Sir.” He handed Faramir a lantern and pushed open the heavy doors. The glow from the lights was lost within the vaulted dimensions of the room, hiding the terrible evidence within the inky darkness.

“Where?”

“By the table, Sir.”

They walked forward slowly, watching every step, peering into the shifting, sinister shadows. At the head of the great oak table the King’s ornate chair lay toppled on the floor. Legolas held up his lantern and the flickering light gave up the room’s secret. High above the table a body dangled by a rope suspended from a huge iron clad chandelier; it swayed gently, moved by the currents of air that swirled and whispered high above their heads. The face was lost in the gloom.

Legolas jumped up onto the table and held out a hand for the heavy chair to be passed to him. He climbed up and seized the body, securing its weight against his chest with one arm and slicing through the rope with the other.

“It is not him…it is not Aragorn!” he exclaimed with relief, lowering the lifeless form to waiting arms.

The body was laid out on the table and closer inspection of the bloated, discoloured visage revealed that it was Lord Haralil.

“Faramir, see here.” Gimli pointed to a piece of parchment stabbed through with a small hunting knife into the table top.

“This is Aragorn’s knife,” said Legolas. “A gift from Lord Elrond, he has carried it since he came of age. What does the message say?”

Faramir held the parchment up to the light, brushing off the gritty reside that had settled on it.

Steward.

You have stripped me of all I hold dear; my family, my livelihood, my honour.

I had thought to kill you but decided it was better to leave you alive in the knowledge that you are responsible for the King’s death.

Is he dead? Or does each passing minute bring him closer to his demise?

His bones will lie forever hidden with only the rats and the worms to see him on his way.

Enjoy your tainted inheritance.

“Come we must go and tell Arwen.” He ordered the guards to remove the body to an antechamber and arranged for Lady Haralil’s entourage to be escorted back to the city at first light.

~~**~~

“What now, Faramir.” Imrahil asked as they all came together to discuss the latest developments.

“We continue with the search.”

“Faramir, we have to consider the possibility that Aragorn is already dead.”

“Not yet. Lord Haralil was taunting me, wanting me to squirm, wanting to make me despair; I will not allow him that power over me, even in death.”

“But Faramir, consider….”

“NO…if he had wanted to  kill the King why abduct him? He had the opportunity to kill him in my chamber….this is a power game.”

“Then why kill himself?”

“Because he realised that there was no escape and in death he thought to take knowledge of Aragorn’s whereabouts to the grave.”

“So you think he is still alive, still in the city,” asked Arwen quietly.

“Yes, I do…I will not give up hope.”

~~**~~

A third day dawned and still no sign of the King had been found. In the House of Healing Tamir’s condition was improving, he was conscious and aware of his surroundings, though he struggled to stay awake; a combination of the lingering effects of the concussion and the healers potions. From his sick-bed he listened in to the whispered conversations between the healers and the troopers appointed to guard him. Darin, the young soldier flogged for his part in the brawl was the duty guard from noon. When they were alone Tamir questioned him and sought out more information to piece together with his own recollections of the attack.

“Please,” he begged the Warden when he came in to check on him, “I must see Lord Faramir. I must go to him!”

“You are going nowhere. You are not fit to be out of bed let alone go wandering about the Citadel.”

“But it’s important.”

“Then I will have word sent to him. Now you must rest. Drink this.” When Faramir visited a short while later Tamir, under the powerful effect of the sedative, was sleeping.

He roused at dusk just before Darin was due to be relieved of his watch. Tamir grabbed his arm.

“You must help me. I know who helped Lord Haralil…I know where to find him.”

“I cannot, Sir. I cannot disobey orders. One thrashing was enough to last me a lifetime.”

“Please, the King’s life is at stake. I will take the blame if we are discovered.”

“Please Sir, do not ask me to do this,” the boy begged.

“If you will not help me I will go alone!”

“What should I do?” said the boy, resigned to helping.

“Come back two hours after you are relieved and bring me a cloak; my clothes and boots are here.

It wasn’t Jeaniel who brought his supper and medicines; she was on duty attending Lord Corrin. Tamir placed the medicine aside promising to take it after he had eaten; he asked if the guard could have a drink. The young assistant nodded leaving Tamir and the Guard alone.

Tamir took a sip of the medicine, just enough to take the edge of his headache but not enough to send him back to sleep. The rest he poured into the guard’s cup whilst the man tended the fire. When Darin slipped in a while later the Guard was snoring in his chair and Tamir was struggling to pull on his boots. A bolster in the bed was intended to fool casual observers. Tamir finished dressing and removed the bandage from his head.

Leaning heavily on Darin, Tamir made his way down through the levels of the city until they passed through the gate into the second circle.

~~**~~

The Duty Officer gave his night time report to the Steward and they discussed the security measures in place and the progress of the search. Extra patrols policed the night-time streets but the search was scaled down to be resumed at first light.

“There is one more thing, Sir,” said the Officer before he was dismissed. “It appears that your Adjutant has absconded from the Warden’s care.”

WHAT! I thought I ordered a 24-hour guard. How did this happen. I want the guard on duty in front of me NOW!” he yelled.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Sir, he appears to have been drugged. The warden thinks Tamir slipped his night-time medication into the man’s drink.”

“Yea Gods man, I should have you strung up for incompetence…we have an assassin able to pass freely into and out of the Citadel and now you cannot keep hold of one injured soldier. He had better be back in his bed by dawn or you will find yourself guarding the trail to Cirith Ungol.” Faramir spat, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes Sir.”

Faramir stalked into the King’s chambers with a face like thunder.

“No, there is no news of Aragorn,” he sighed in answer to the unasked question of his companions. “But Tamir has gone walkabout.”

 He saw Imrahil and Éomer conferring urgently together.

“What is it now, My Lords,” he asked. “What else can fate throw at us…at me.”

“Faramir, you must consider what action to take if the King is not found.”

“No, it is too soon to give up hope.”

“Faramir the chances are he is already dead…you must take action…for the sake of the Kingdom. With no King and no council you have to take control!”

“I am in control…are you suggesting that I usurp Aragorn’s throne.”

“As King or Steward you must exert your authority.”

“I. Will. Never. Take. The.  Crown. It is not mine to take. I will do my duty as Steward as my Father did before me but I will never….say no more. I will not discuss this.” He stormed out onto the balcony, slamming the door so hard that the glazed panels rattled in their frames.

Arwen and Éowyn heard the raised voices and came through to investigate. Legolas explained briefly. Éowyn went to go to him bur Arwen stayed her and asked her to arrange for a light supper to be served.

“Do not force this issue with him, my friends,” the Elven Queen begged. “Do not force him to give up hope yet, he is close to breaking. He has hardly slept or eaten in days. He will do what is necessary when the time comes.”

“Faramir!” He recognised the Queen’s voice and turned to face her as she came to his side. She slipped her hand into his and turned his palm upward. “Where is your glove,” she asked, stroking his abraded palm with her thumb.

“I lost it…I’m not sure….I…”

“They didn’t mean to upset you.”

I know….it’s just…”

“I know Faramir. I too cannot bear the thought that he has been taken from us and though my head tells me that I may never see him again I am not yet ready to give up hope.” They stood in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. It was Arwen who broke the silence.

“Faramir can I ask you something.” He nodded as she led him to a stone bench.

“I know that you don’t want the Crown or even to rule Gondor as Steward but if he doesn’t come back to us, would you stand as Regent to Aragorn’s son, to teach him and prepare him until he is old enough to take his Father’s Crown.” Her tears flowed silently but she smiled at him in confirmation.

“Lady, you honour me. Does he know?”

“No…it is early days and I didn’t have the chance to tell him, only Éowyn knows.” Faramir embraced her and held her as she wept.

“I will do everything in my power to help you, Arwen and I would be honoured to guide and love your son but I have not given up hope that Aragorn will return to us…he has to come back to us.”

~~**~~

Tamir and Darin tried several ale houses in the second and third circle before Tamir spotted the man he was looking for. They watched from a darkened booth, Tamir keeping his face hidden within the folds of his hood. The large, heavy-set man was unkempt and clearly the worse for drink. He slouched over an uneaten plate of greasy mutton stew.

“Should I fetch a patrol, Sir?”

“No, you stay here and keep an eye on him. If he looks like leaving try and keep him here till I return. Tamir slipped out into the dark alley and waited for a patrol to come by. He explained who he was and why he was there, showing his signet ring, symbol of his position with the Steward’s retinue, as surety to the suspicious Sergeant.

“We have been told to see you back to the Warden’s care, Sir.”

“I will go willingly when this man is in custody; he attacked the King and the Steward. You must not let him escape.”

 From the doorway Tamir identified his assailant and within minutes the man was in custody and on his way up to the citadel to face his nemesis.

Tamir and Darin followed the patrol up through the city, falling further behind as Tamir’s strength ebbed away. He wanted to enter the Healing Houses alone to keep Darin’s involvement in his truancy hidden but the young soldier would not leave him and in truth Tamir needed his shoulder for support. Darin guided him back to his room and helped him back into bed under the watchful but thankfully silent scrutiny of the Warden.

“I think you had better disappear before the Steward catches you,” ordered the Warden, with a wry smile.

“Sir, we have apprehended Lord Haralil’s accomplice.” The Duty Officer announced. “He is being held in the Guard-room.”

“How do you know this man? How was he identified?”

“Your Adjutant, Sir. He recognised him as Lord Haralil’s man-servant and as the man who attacked the King.”

“And where is Tamir now.”

“Back in the Warden’s care, Sir. One of the troopers helped him back; he seems to have overtaxed his strength.”

In the Guard room the man was dragged to his feet to stand before the grim-faced Steward.

“You know who I am?” The man nodded.

“Your Master took the coward’s way out and denied me the privilege of arranging his execution. You will not be so lucky. You have earned death by your actions. However the manner of your death will be of your choosing. If you give me the information I require your death will be swift and merciful. If not I can assure you that your end will be slow and agonising…you will be begging for death before the end.”

“You do not scare me, Steward. You haven’t the balls to see a man tortured.” He sneered.

“You were once a military man, Yes? Them I am sure you are familiar with the Master-at Arms here. He can be very persuasive and we have all night!”

The questioning went on until dawn. At one point Faramir left the room and vomited back what little supper he had manage to eat earlier but he composed himself and returned to his task. The screams would haunt his dreams until the day he died.

TBC