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

Author’s Note: I think I should just add my apology of poor updating to the disclaimer: I do it nearly every time! My excuse this time is that school started and ran away with me, I had big time work drama, and I was sick with various colds and flu bugs for nearly five weeks straight. I can only hope and pray that people are still interested in this fic.

This chapter is a dialogue-lover’s dream. In it we make the necessary trip into the department of back-story. Bear with me; the action will be coming as soon as the questions are answered. And for the record, we’ve officially gone off the deep end into AU territory. The chapter title is from Keats.

Chapter Twenty: Now Is Past

The Librarian got up and made another pot of tea. Until he had been waiting for answers, Pippin had never realized how truly obnoxious it could be to wait while the water heated and was poured, and the tea leaves added. And the Librarian was in no hurry, either.

Finally, the Librarian sat down again and fixed the hobbits with a stern look. “You must understand that while this is nothing like battling the Shadow, it is still very dangerous. People have died because of this secret, innocent people. It needs undoing.

“You said that Lady Lothiriel told you the story of Seregon and Alatarial, and how Seregon killed his brother Amroth because the younger man would not let him have his way with the lady Illyria. That is true, for the most part. But there was more. I will tell you all that I know in as brief a way as I can.

“Seregon had trade relations with several Haradric clans. These relations were largely unknown to the rest of his family, as Seregon was careful to make it seem like he was merely cultivating an interest in stratagems for preventing war with the Haradrim. But these clans were providing Seregon with items that were of interest to him, items that could be used subversively to ensure strife and grieving. Perhaps without knowing it, Seregon had opened a gateway to setting the Shadow into the hearts of many.”

Merry interrupted by waving his hand for attention. The Librarian, who had been staring contemplatively at the teapot, looked up with a flash of resignation. “Do you mean that Sauron was purposely having the Haradrim plant these so-called ‘items of interest’ in Gondor to ensure that the kingdom would fall?”

The Librarian hesitated before answering. “I am not certain, but I want to say that the Haradrim had an idea of what they were giving Seregon, and that their enemies’ moral would break if grievous things came to pass. Sauron may have been influencing them, but there is also the fact that these tools, if not used properly and for the right reason, would themselves be subversive to the people who used them.

“The steward Belecthor, as you have learned, was a man with a secret passion for the sciences. I daresay that if he had been the second son and not the heir to the stewardship, he would have been greatly devoted to furthering the knowledge of the world. As it was, alchemy had to become his private pastime, something to do on the rare occasion when his duties permitted him leisure.

“Many of the items used in alchemy, such as precious metals and chemicals, were shipped to Belecthor by Seregon, who had the tendency to travel, so that his dealings with Harad would not be called into question. One day, a gift arrived from Seregon to Belecthor. It was a set of mirrors; the large oval glasses set in ornately jeweled frames and covered by lids of fine silver. With them came a personal message for Belecthor.”

“He wanted to marry Alatarial,” Pippin guessed, and hissed when Merry kicked him under the table. “Sorry, go one,” he added, glowering at his cousin.

The Librarian smiled wryly. “You are quite right, Master Peregrin, Seregon did want to marry Alatarial. He also knew that the deaths of his previous wives would make Belecthor very hesitant to part with his daughter. So Seregon blackmailed him. He told Belecthor that unless he gave him Alatarial, he would reveal it in Gondor that the Steward had dealings with Harad that would jeopardize the kingdom. Such a thing would not be tolerated, even if it were the ruler who acted, and Belecthor knew it. So he agreed to let Seregon wed his daughter, though it grieved him.”

Here the Librarian paused again and drank deeply from his tea. He was clearly not a man to be rushed. The hobbits could only sit and fidget.

“It has something to do with the mirrors, doesn’t it?” Pippin burst out. “It only makes sense. Seregon sent Belecthor the mirrors because he knew that they would make a problem.”

“Of course,” the Librarian replied, smiling. “And they did, but not until later, when Belecthor began playing with them. I believe that Princess Lothiriel told you this next part already: the ball where Seregon killed Amroth and Illyria, and how Alatarial died of a supposed fever a short time later. Yes? Good. Now, do you know how long it takes someone to die of starvation?”

Two curly heads shook in unison. Such a thing was completely unheard of in their land.

“It takes forty days. Forty days of utter deprivation from food, and only four days separation from any source of water. As Lothiriel told you, Alatarial refused to marry Seregon after the deaths of her friend and cousin, but Belecthor would not stand for that behavior. He had a kingdom to maintain and a secret to keep, and he would have Alatarial marry Seregon, murders or no.”

“So he locked her up,” Merry said.

“Yes,” the Librarian replied. “He gave her an ultimatum: marry Seregon or starve to death. He did not honestly intend to kill his daughter, though, merely scare her into submission. He left her there for a week, a guard outside her door day and night.

“In the meantime, he began negotiating with Seregon to change his blackmail. Perhaps more land in the Belfalas area, or something like that. The details are unclear on that matter. All that we know is, something happened that made Belecthor decide that he could not let Alatarial marry this evil man. The situation was quite out of his control, but he did have power over one thing.

“You may have noticed in your ramblings in the abandoned wing that there are signs of a staircase having been removed near Alatarial’s room. This is a fact. Belecthor had the staircase dismantled and abandoned his daughter to a cruel death by slow starvation.”

He stood up and moved back to the hob to make more tea. Pippin leapt up and followed him.

“But you haven’t told us about the mirrors yet. What do they have to do with any of this?”

The Librarian just smiled enigmatically. “They are the reason why there are ghosts in the citadel.”

*****

“Why was the wing abandoned? Because there were accidents. All sorts of things happened over there that the people didn’t like,” Aragorn said. He leaned back in the armchair and crossed his long legs in front of him. “Let me think. There was a falling chandelier, a fire, talk of ghostly screams and laughter, doors opening and closing when no one was there, a young man going mad after looking into a mirror, images that could not have possibly been there flashing into mirrors-shall I continue?”

Arwen shook her head. “No, Estel, you’ve told us all we need to know. Particularly about the mirrors. I think we may be in trouble.”

Aragorn sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I should have known that this would end in some sort of misadventure. What is it you are talking about, my love?”

“The mirrors are possessed,” Eowyn said bluntly. “The ones over on that side of the palace. Not all of them, mind you, but there are at least two mirrors that are allowing spirits access to our world.”

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. Eowyn seized the diary from Arwen and waved it at him. “Read this if you don’t believe me! Belecthor had magic mirrors that he called Mirrors of Truth, that could replay things that had happened so that the world would know how things really were. He-”

The door suddenly crashed open and two hobbits burst in, looking distinctly worried.

“Arwen! Eowyn! Strider!” shouted Pippin. “We’ve found it out! We know that the problem is!”

“There are magic mirrors that kill people!” Merry agreed.

Arwen settled back on the sofa, the tenseness of her posture betraying the calm on her face. “I think you had better tell us what you learned.”

TBC