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All That Glisters  by Lindelea

Chapter 67. Before the Face of the King

A fortnight after the aborted kidnapping, Denethor was out of danger and chafing to go back to his duties though the healers kept him firmly under their collective thumbs, Sam’s leg was knitting well, Pippin-lad was back to his usual pert and curious self, and Faramir seemed little worse for the wear.

Everyone, it seemed, was doing well... with the exception of the Thain.

O he put on a good face, as whimsical as ever, and he concealed the tremor in his fingers fairly well, but there was no disguising the dark shadows growing under his eyes, the increasing pallor of his cheeks, the weight falling off that made it obvious that he was pushing the food around the plate more than he was lifting it to his mouth.

 ‘What is the matter with Pippin?’ Estella said in a whisper as Diamond refreshed her tea. Rose was with Samwise, Posey was minding the young hobbits, and Arwen was about some queenly business of her own, leaving the two to trade confidences over their teacups. ‘It’s driving Merry to distraction!’

 ‘It’s driving me to distraction,’ Diamond said, staring into her cup. ‘Elrohir told him that he must eat well, rest well, and avoid worry if he wishes not to be “inconvenienced” by bad spells, and it is as if my husband is making it his business to prove the healers wrong—or right, as it may be.’

 ‘What is he worrying about?’ Estella said, even lower.

 ‘That is part of the trouble,’ Diamond said, fingers tightening on the delicate china until Estella wondered if the cup would shatter in her friend’s hands. ‘He won’t tell me. He says it’s all in my head. Imagine it! I’d be furious with him if I weren’t so frightened for him!’

Estella reported this conversation to Merry, of course, though it didn’t tell him what he wanted to know. He squeezed her hand gently.

 ‘And you’re worrying about my worrying,’ he said.

 ‘Well at least you tell me what it is that worries you,’ Estella said.

 ‘I do?’ Merry asked in surprise.

 ‘I can read you like a book,’ Estella said firmly. ‘So you had better continue to wear your worries on your sleeve for me to read. It’s not healthy to try to conceal them!’

 ‘Tell that to Pippin,’ Merry muttered.

 ‘I will!’ Estella said, and irrepressible as she was, she did. However, Pippin merely laughed in her face and went in to the latest banquet to regale the nobles with stories and push the uneaten food around his plate, to make it look as if he’d eaten.

Something had to be done.

Those who loved him best knew that simply threatening him with healers and tonics and resting in bed would not be enough to head off a rapidly approaching crisis.

Pippin spoke only of inconsequentialities, turned a bland face to all questioning, laughed away expressions of concern. He spent a great deal of time with Denethor, cheering him with tales (though for the most part he eschewed stories that might provoke laughter), insisting upon the finest treatment for the guardsman, choice food, good wine.

When not with Denethor, he was showering attention on Farry: rides, walks, talks, fishing from the shore of the Lake, digging smials in the sand, telling stories and singing songs. Diamond watched with increasing worry, though Pippin turned her questions away with light answers. It seemed to her as if her husband was frantic to fill their son’s treasure box with shining memories.

At last she spoke her fear to Merry, and later that day Merry closeted himself with the King. That evening Elessar sought out Hilly for a long talk, whereupon he thought he understood the source of the trouble, which no amount of athelas or tonic would heal.

The time had come.

 ‘The Hall of Kings is complete?’ Diamond said, seeming to lean upon Pippin’s arm as they walked, though in reality she was ready to offer support should her husband’s steps falter.

 ‘Yes, and Strider has invited us to see it before he begins to hear matters there,’ Merry said. ‘It will be bright and shiny-new, unstained with crimes judged, not weighed down with ponderous pronouncements rendered, not hushed to hear wisdom manifested.’

 ‘How gloomy your thoughts, cousin!’ Pippin said with a laugh. ‘A place where justice is dispensed, with a sprinkling of mercy! Surely it will shine all the more brightly for the Elf-Star.’

Bergil greeted them at the door to the Hall, opening the door for them and holding it as they entered.

The Hall was not shadowy, as it had been the last time they’d peeped in. The statues that had been covered with cloths now stood fully revealed, a double line of North-kings from Elendil to Arvedui, all turned to watch the judgments, solemn expressions carven on their faces.

The Sunlight poured through the high windows, slanting down to the floor. This grand and noble hall was like to, but subtly different from the Hall of Kings in Minas Tirith. In this Northern hall the pillars that supported the high roof above were white, not deepest black; and bright hangings graced the walls, tapestries showing battle and peacetime, scenes from old legends and recent events.

Upon the throne sat the King, and his Queen stood at his side. On the morrow the Hall would be filled with courtiers and nobles, scribes writing down judgments and messages, guardsmen and petitioners, a bustling body of people who had up until now overflowed one of the lesser halls.

The hobbits walked down the centre, between the lines of Kings, staring about themselves in wonder. Just as they reached the foot of the steps leading up to the throne the great door boomed behind them. Pippin’s greeting to the King died on his lips, and he turned to see Bergil take up his station before the door, as if the King were about to begin hearing a matter of importance.

Hildibold stepped from an alcove to stand before the dais, ill-at-ease, bow clutched tightly in his hand.

 ‘Hilly?’ Pippin said, but the escort would not meet his eyes, and only shook his head before pointedly turning his attention to Elessar.

 ‘Peregrin, son of Paladin,’ Elessar said. Though he spoke quietly, his words carried to the far reaches of the hall, even to Bergil, standing before the door. ‘We have gathered to hear your case.’

 ‘My case?’ Pippin said, laughter rising in him and dying again as he looked around the solemn gathering. He tried again. ‘Very nice, Strider, to dedicate the hall of judgment with such...’ Diamond’s hand tightened on his arm and he fell silent, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the King, even as his breath came shorter than usual.

 ‘We will hear the details of the matter,’ Elessar said. ‘First witness!’

Denethor stepped from an alcove, walking slowly, but walking! He was clad in mail, his helm under one arm. He reached the group, nodded acknowledgment to the hobbits, and bowed stiffly to King and Queen.

 ‘A fortnight ago,’ he said, ‘on the first day of the week, I was assigned to guard the Halflings. They wished to have a breakfast picnic...’

Pippin listened in astonished silence as the guardsman recited the details of the day, including the plate of breakfast he’d refused, the young hobbits climbing into the low branches, the first arrow to strike, even Denethor’s thought of taking cover, once he located the archer, and working with Hilly to subdue the ruffian.

 ‘I was momentarily distracted by the arrow,’ Denethor said. ‘From what I can gather, the archer shot from the cover of the field, and as soon as they saw the arrow strike the two ruffians raced into the orchard. One swung a club at Hildibold before he could grab up his bow and ran to the tree where Pippin-lad and Faramir sat, while the other notched another arrow, ready to discourage interference.

 ‘Mayor Samwise saw at once the danger, and jumping up he began to beat the ruffian with his stick. The archer was about to shoot the Mayor when I disarmed him.’

 ‘As he nearly disheartened you,’ Pippin said, unable to contain himself any longer.

As if he hadn’t spoken, Elessar said now, ‘Hildibold, your evidence.’

Without a glance at the Thain, Hilly began to speak. ‘As the archer fell and the other ruffian ran from the clearing, Thain Peregrin jumped up and eased Denny to the ground, shouting to Diamond to do what she could for him. He then ran from the orchard in pursuit. I took up my bow and followed...’

He described the chase, while King nodded from the throne and Queen stood as if turned to stone. Pippin could hear his heart beating in his ears, and only Diamond’s hand gripping his arm, and Merry’s supporting presence on his other side, anchored him to this reality.

Hilly had reached the riverbank in his narrative when Pippin stepped forward, shaking off Diamond and Merry. ‘Yes, yes,’ he said impatiently. ‘We all know what transpired next. Ruffian and hobbits fell into the waters, and it was only by a miracle that the lads escaped death.’

 ‘Not quite,’ Merry said quietly, stepping forward to take his arm.

 ‘You weren’t even there!’ Pippin said, and though he tried to wrench away his cousin held fast.

 ‘Continue, Hildibold,’ Elessar said.

 ‘Hilly!’ Pippin cried, but the escort shook his head, not meeting his gaze. Indeed Hilly’s eyes were fixed on Arwen’s, and his gaze remained locked with the Queen’s while he told the rest.

 ‘There was a cry from the far bank—we thought it another ruffian,’ Hilly recited, much as if it were a set piece he'd practiced until he could give it by heart. ‘On further reflection, of course, once the emergency was passed, the likelihood that the newcomer was in league with the ruffians appeared much smaller. The escaping ruffian was startled by the appearance of another Man on the other bank, and his foot slipped on the rock...’ He took a deep breath before going on. ‘He lost his hold on the young hobbits, casting them into the River...’

Diamond gave a choked cry. She hadn’t heard the whole, not even from Farry who’d lived it, nor of course from Pippin.

Hilly forged ahead, not to be diverted from his course. ‘The ruffian regained his balance, and empty-handed began to leap to the next rock. Thain Peregrin threw the stone he held,’ he said, and stopped.

Pippin stood as still as one of the statues in the hall, white-lipped, his eyes staring at something only he could see.

 ‘He threw the stone,’ Elessar prompted.

 ‘The ruffian fell into the waters and was carried over the falls,’ Hilly said.

Merry worried, seeing the white, strained face of his cousin, scarcely breathing, eyes staring. But Pippin had put off all attempts to deal with his trouble, over the past fortnight. Strider had convinced Merry that this was the only way to breach the defensive wall that Pippin was maintaining, and after many frustrating attempts to talk to his cousin, Merry had finally conceded. His eyes shone with misery over Pippin’s distress, and he stood as close as he could, though Pippin stood rigid, rejecting his support.

Hilly went on to tell of Jack’s rescue of Farry, including Pippin’s order to shoot the unarmed Man as he reached safety with the lad.

 ‘Had Jack gone to the nearer bank, you’d have shot him,’ Elessar clarified.

 ‘Yes,’ Hilly said. ‘He was closer to the opposite bank than he was to us. It might have been reasonable for him to go to the nearer bank, to rest before restoring Farry to his father, if he were wearied by the struggle to pull Faramir to safety. He is—was—an older Man, with silvering hair.’

Pippin bowed his head and was suddenly—and to Merry’s eyes frighteningly—very still.





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