Disclaimer: I don’t own them, and I’ll put them back when I’m done!

Author’s Note: Not a very long chapter this time, I’m afraid. Sorry for the long delay; my beta and I have been leading increasingly busy lives of late. Thanks, Pip, for the beta! And this chapter title does have something to do with the chapter, but keep in mind the full quote.

“What we need right now is some warm milk. I find that always helps me sleep.”

Merry steered Bergil into the kitchen of the Fellowship’s house. The lad went easily, more than willing to stay with the hobbits. They had returned to his small house in the lower circles only to find that Beregond was still up at the ball, keeping order in the Citadel, and Bergil’s mother was helping in the kitchens that night. The lad would have been home alone, and while that was not unthinkable, Merry deemed it irresponsible of himself and Pippin to leave him alone after the night’s events, and so Bergil had come home with them.

“Sit, both of you,” Merry instructed. “I’ll make the drinks.”

Pippin and Bergil sat silently at the table, waiting until Merry brought them steamed and spiced milk. Both had had a good scare, Bergil more so than Pippin, and the drinks were welcome and relaxing. He drank his until it was all gone, and felt warmer.

“May I ask a question?” Bergil asked. The hobbits nodded in unison. “What is going on here?”

Pippin laughed a little. “That’s complicated, Bergil, lad. Lady Eowyn and I found a locked up room a few days ago, and the story of it is beginning to drive us all quite mad. It’s a mystery that we’re trying to solve. Lady Lothiriel’s story tonight gave us some more information on it.”

Bergil nodded. “And that’s what the King was talking about, too, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Pippin said. “But I still don’t really understand what any of this had to do with Faramir’s mother. I suppose we’ll begin learning about that part, next.”

Bergil looked as though he didn’t want to know anything more, but he did not say so. They sat in silence for a few minutes, until they had finished their drinks, and then Merry gathered the mugs and tipped them into the sink.

“Bed, lads. I think there’s an extra feather mattress in the closet for you, Bergil,” he said.

An hour later, Legolas opened the hobbits’ door to see if they were in. He smiled at the sight of the pageboy bedded down before the fire, and went to tell Beregond where his son was.

*****

“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” Eowyn protested, even as she followed Arwen up the corridor.

Arwen shook her head and did not bother to reply. She was not one to give in to nighttime scares. She was an Elf, and did not readily fear the shades of Men. Still, Lothiriel’s story had unnerved her, more than she wanted to admit. This was rapidly turning from adventure into terrifying mystery.

“I’ll take you through the portrait gallery tomorrow some time,” Eowyn said. “It’s too close to the ballroom right now for comfort; someone may see us and ask difficult questions.”

Arwen nodded. They would be going through the portrait gallery anyway, but she knew that Eowyn meant they would not linger to look at anything. As it was, they were both swathed in long dark cloaks, and appeared to be little more than shadows flitting through the night.

They gained the door to the portrait gallery by means of another servants’ passage. The sounds of the ball were fading from the ballroom as they passed; by this late hour, most were retiring to their beds. The two women hurried up the gallery and dashed through the alcove doorway.

“I don’t suppose that I can convince you to turn back now?” Eowyn said as Arwen lit a candle in a lantern. “We could do this tomorrow, when half the City is asleep and Aragorn is busy with some meeting.”

Arwen glanced sideways at Eowyn, a sly smile on her face. “Are you very tired, or just afraid of the dark?”

“Both, rather,” said Eowyn dryly. “That, and your husband will be wondering where you are.”

“Then we had best do this quickly and get back,” Arwen replied, and handed Eowyn the lantern. “Lead the way.”

She had been through this section of the palace enough times now that she knew how to get to the ballroom. They came down the same steps where she had nearly killed Aragorn several hours earlier, and Eowyn vaguely considered finding a map of this place in the library the next day. There were so many entrances and exits here that it was near impossible to come out in the same place. It was worse in the dark; Eowyn could not even see the servants’ entrance in the shadows of the room. She seized Arwen by the arm and led her to the far entrance.

From there, it was a short walk to the room with the hole in the ceiling. She and Pippin had put the room back to rights when they had hurriedly left before, setting the chair back on the floor and dragging the table back to its original spot. Now Eowyn dragged it back under the hole as Arwen pulled the chair over. A momentary climb, and they were in Alatarial’s room.

“Here, tie this around your waist,” Eowyn murmured, handing Arwen one end of the long girdle she wore around her waist. “Just in case the floor gives again.”

The room was just as they had left it, Eowyn’s and Pippin’s footprints already obscured by several days’ worth of dust. When she noticed that, Eowyn bent the lantern’s light towards the floor, searching for any other footsteps. Over thirty years worth of dust had obscured Finduilas’ steps, though, and Eowyn soon gave up the attempt.

Arwen was studying the pictures on the walls, and the books before the hearth, her face contemplative. “I wonder who came to clean up after her,” she said. “Her note said she was locked in, but the story everyone else gave is that she died of fever. It doesn’t make sense.” She paused, flipping through the dusty pages of the bound Lay of Luthien. “You know, two hundred years ago, I sent a packet of books with a traveler from the South, as a present to the lady of Gondor. She was just a child, he said, so I gave her very pretty books with lots of pictures. These are they.” She raised the book and tapped its spine, where the crest of Rivendell was still faintly visible. Eowyn stared at her, amazed. Arwen set the book down and got to her feet. “Did you ever keep a journal, Eowyn? Many Elvish women do, and many of the men, as well.”

“No, why?”

“Because Alatarial may have kept one, right up until her death,” Arwen said musingly. “I wonder. Look around, see if you can find a notebook of some sort.”

Eowyn looked, but nothing came to light. “I doubt she would have left it on her desk. She would have burnt it or hidden it well, knowing it would have been used against her. Hunted women know survival. I speak from experience.”

Arwen nodded. “Well, then. Let us look in concealed places.”

Eowyn set the lantern on the desk and began to riffle through its contents. Arwen searched by the bed, constantly at the end of her tether. At last, Eowyn gave up her search of the desk and allowed Arwen to drag her across the room to the bed. The queen got down on her knees and crawled under, exclaiming and sneezing at the amounts of dust. When she emerged again, she was dusty and empty-handed.

“It’s no use, not now. One cannot search well in the dark. Let us go,” she said.

Eowyn opened her mouth to tease Arwen lightly, when they heard a sudden crash from below. Both women jumped together in fear, but there was no other sound. Eowyn walked to the edge of the hole and peered down into the room below. Nothing.

They climbed down quickly, looking around in the meager light. Eowyn was desperately wishing for her sword, or any sword. What if some traitor had followed them and meant to kill them in this deserted place?

“Oh, dear,” Arwen said, breaking into Eowyn’s increasingly panicked thoughts. “Look.”

Eowyn looked to where the queen’s finger was pointing. The bedroom door was shut tightly. She advanced and tried the handle, but it was firmly stuck shut. They were trapped.

*****

Pippin awoke to bright sunlight and a surly king staring at him. He jumped and squawked, but Aragorn only sighed.

“Have you any idea where my wife and Eowyn may have gone?” he asked. “They’re missing. No one in the palace has seen them since you lads and Lothiriel left them last night.”

TBC