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The Road to Edoras  by Dreamflower

CHAPTER 41

Éomer had assembled his court, and was awaiting the company as they arrived.  Although the messages had told him of how many they were, and who, it still was startling to see so many hobbits.  They looked about them with expressions varying from frank curiousity, to wariness, to downright apprehension. 

At his king's gesture, Éothain stepped forward, and made a brief bow. The Rohirrim were not much for the sort of obeisance used in the Gondorian court.

“My Lord Éomer King, I have the honor to bring into your presence these hobbits of the Shire, friends and kin of the Ringbearer Frodo Baggins, who journey to Mundberg to represent their people before the court of the High King.”

“It is my privilege to greet them,” Éomer responded. “Please present them to me.”

At a gesture from Éothain, Freddy stepped forward.

“The leader of this embassy, Master Fredegar Bolger, cousin to the Ringbearer and to Sir Peregrin Took, and soon to be brother-in-law of our Holdwine, Sir Meriadoc.” Freddy inclined his head in the way that Éothain had.

“It is an honor to greet you, Éomer King.” He turned and gestured for the others to come forward. “This is Berilac Brandybuck, first cousin to Sir Meriadoc Brandybuck and first cousin once removed to Frodo Baggins. This is Mosco Burrows, first cousin once removed on his mother’s side, and third cousin on his father’s side to Frodo Baggins, and first cousin once removed to Sir Meriadoc. This is Wilcome Cotton, brother-in-law to Samwise Gamgee. And these are Denham Banks and Rollin Banks, brothers, of Buckland.” Each hobbit as he was introduced, came forward and gave the same sort of courteous half-bow as Freddy had.

“These are the hobbits of our embassy. In addition we have travelling with us Mistress Poppy Burrows, Healer, and aunt of Mosco Burrows, and her apprentice, Miss Viola Harfoot.”

Poppy and Viola came up, and each made a graceful curtsey before the King. Viola blushed becomingly.

Éomer looked at the group which stood before him, and cast an eye over the hobbits he saw. In the leader, Fredegar, he could see a certain resemblance to the Ringbearer. The one who had been introduced second, Berilac, bore a very strong resemblance to his dear Holdwine Meriadoc. As to the others, he could not say that he could see any marked resemblance to anyone. He glanced curiously at the little healer and her apprentice--it was his first look at female hobbits, and he studied them briefly. The healer had a no-nonsense look about her, common to most healers, he found, whatever their race. She had a glint of curiosity in her brown eyes, and an air of eager anticipation. Her apprentice, who stood next to her was an attractive hobbitess, but she looked nervous and apprehensive next to her mistress. He judged her rather young for her kind.

His glance travelled further back to land on the four bound hobbits standing in sullen attitudes before his cousin Éothain. So those were the traitors…Two of them older by far than any hobbits he had seen before, two of them quite young, younger than Meriadoc, perhaps even as young as Peregrin. And he was going to have to decide their fate.

Although he already knew the answer, he looked at the prisoner hobbits. “And who are these?”

Freddy’s face became perfectly blank. “Those four are prisoners. They were adjudged traitors to the Shire and banished from our land. But they were brought South to be adjudged for their crimes against the embassies of Gondor and Rohan.” He carefully did not look at the prisoners as he spoke.

Éomer allowed his gaze to rest on the four. The one who appeared to be the oldest looked ill and listless. The other older hobbit was very pale, and there was a look of fearful defiance in his expression. But he could not hold Éomer’s gaze, and his eyes shifted away. One of the younger prisoners fidgeted, and kept turning a hate-filled look upon the hobbits of the embassy. Only the youngest attempted to present any sort of dignity, though he could not bear the king’s scrutiny for long either.

It fell to Éothain to introduce the prisoners. His hands fell upon the shoulders of the two older hobbits, who flinched at his touch. “These two, Éomer King, are Clodio Banks and Dago Bracegirdle, charged with collaborating with the traitor Saruman during the War, and bound to Gondor, to answer for their crimes to the High King Elessar.” He moved his hands to the younger hobbits. “These two are the sons of Clodio Banks, Clovis and Cado. They are accused of attacking the embassy, and of inflicting bodily harm upon Danulf, Danhelm’s son, a Rider of the Mark and part of our peaceful embassy to the Shire. It is for that reason they have been brought to you for judgment.”

Éomer nodded. This much he knew from Éothain’s dispatches. He would, of course, need a far fuller report and more information before he could render any sort of judgment. He turned his eyes once more upon the hapless prisoners. “Let the accused be taken below and imprisoned. See that they receive all care. Tomorrow they will be brought forth to me and I will render my decision regarding their fate.”

The four went even paler than before, if that were possible, and then suddenly the oldest one swayed and swooned, to be caught before he fell by Éothain’s quick hands. Mistress Poppy rushed to his side, her little apprentice at her heels. She placed a hand against the pulse in Clodio’s throat, and gave a nod, then turning to her apprentice, murmured something. Her apprentice reached into a pouch at her side, and gave her mistress a small vial. Mistress Poppy opened it, and administered a drop to the semi-conscious hobbit.

Éomer leaned forward. “What is wrong with him, Mistress Healer?”

She looked up at the king. “The journey here has weakened his heart. I believe this is just an effect of his weariness and the shock of realizing his fate is nearly upon him. I administered some tincture of foxglove, to steady the beat of his heart. I believe it would be best, however, if someone watched over him.”

“Very well. He will be lodged in one of the guest rooms. Will you or your apprentice watch him? I will place a guard outside his room.”

“That sounds like a sensible plan, my Lord.” She sounded not in the least intimidated at addressing a king.

“Éothain, I should like to speak with you privily.”

“Yes, my Lord King.” He passed the burden of Clodio to Anwynd.

Several guards escorted the other three prisoners away.

Now Éomer gestured towards an older woman, her golden hair shot with silver, who stood straight as a spear beside the throne. “This is the Lady Éormangilda Thengel’s daughter, and my aunt. She it is who is chatelaine of Meduseld. She will show all of you to the rooms where you shall be lodged. I look forward to seeing and speaking to all of you this evening, when we shall have a feast in your honor.”

Éormangilda stepped down from the dais, and went to the remaining hobbits, to whom she spoke in heavily accented Westron: “It is an honor to meet you. I shall take you to your chambers now?”

They followed her, though not without a backward glance at Éothain, who seemed to be a bit apprehensive.

Standing up, Éomer dismissed the rest of the court, and in two long strides came down from the dais. This was Meduseld, not the Citadel in Minas Tirith, and he came forward to greet and embrace his cousin, and to exchange warm greetings with Legolas and Gimli, who had stood back and tried to look inconspicuous while the hobbits were being introduced. Éothain looked relieved at his king’s friendly welcome--he had feared that

Éomer might be unhappy at the problem they had brought with them.

“Witlaf!” Éomer called to one of the servants.

The man came over immediately. “Yes, my lord king?”

“Bring ale and light refreshments to the small room behind the throne in a few minutes.”

Witlaf nodded, and scurried off, as Éomer led the other three through a small door in the wall behind the throne. It was sparsely furnished with a table and six chairs. “Be seated and be comfortable,” said Éomer, setting the example.

The other three took him at his word. Scarcely had they done so, than the door opened again, and Witlaf entered, placing a tray with a pitcher of ale, four goblets and a platter of sliced cold meats and cheeses on the table. He bowed silently and retreated.

Éomer poured himself a goblet of ale, and then said amiably, “Now, Éothain, explain yourself. Why have you saddled *me* with these two? Why are they not going on to Aragorn with the others?”

Éothain shifted uncomfortably. “At the time, it seemed the best way out of a dilemma. In Gondor at present, there is only one penalty for violently attacking a peaceful embassy from the High King. They would have been subject to death. And Targon and I honestly did not believe their actions warranted such--they are young, not quite of age in their own land, and they acted impulsively, in the misguided notion that they would somehow save their father’s honor. It was stupid. But stupidity does not deserve death.” He paused to take a pull at his own ale. “The hobbits of the Shire would have been appalled at the notion--to banish wrongdoers is one thing, but to knowingly send them to death quite another. We of Rohan are far more sensible in our laws.” For the weregild system allowed many ways of paying for a crime other than imprisonment or death.

Éomer gazed at his cousin for a moment, and then looked over at Legolas and Gimli. “What did you think of this whole disaster?”

The Dwarf barked a laugh. “Young É othain is quite right on one thing. Those two lads are stupid--at least the older one is, and the younger one follows his lead, which amounts to the same thing.”

“I think that both captains did the only possible thing,” said Legolas. “The older hobbits, being accused merely of collaboration *could* be subject to the death penalty *if* King Elessar determines that their complicity is deeper than we think it is. But truly, they were merely the pawns of Frodo’s kinsman Lotho, who was in his own turn a pawn of Saruman. They deserve punishment, but not death, and that will be the outcome of it, I am sure. As to the sons--in Gondor, accused of such violence, there would be no choice. And there are no mitigating circumstances such as those surrounding the Guardsman Beregond, which allowed the King to be merciful.”

Éomer sighed. “And why could not the Shirefolk deal with this in their own fashion?”

“They did,” said Éothain. “They put Marks on their criminals and banish them.”

“Ah, I see--so their only method of punishment is to send troublemakers elsewhere?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. Tell me of these two young hobbits, that I might render a just sentence upon them.”

Éothain pursed his lips. “The younger of the two, I deem, might be weaned away from his behavior, if he is no longer under the influence of his older brother. Cado is actually the brighter of the two, and he is no longer so easily swayed. The trouble his brother brought down on them with his ill-thought out scheme has seemed to open his eyes.”

“Tell me, Éothain, how is it that two hobbits were able to inflict injury on a Rider of Rohan?” While Merry and Pippin had proved to be able warriors, they had been trained by Boromir and Aragorn. É omer was under the impression that most hobbits were unskilled with weapons and were peaceful folk.

So, between them, Éothain, Legolas and Gimli recounted that ill-fated night of the Ball, when Danulf was guarding the camp alone, and of the stone that rendered him unconscious, and the other even more dire results of the Banks lads’ actions.

“I daresay,” said Éothain, “that Danulf will *never* put his helm aside on duty again!”

Legolas sat forward. “One thing you should know, ere you render judgment: Cado may, I think, be trusted to a certain extent. But not Clovis. He and Dago Bracegirdle were foiled in an attempt to escape on the journey--recapture only fueled the resentment Clovis holds. And he was the ringleader of any trouble that the two brothers have ever been in.”

“Remember what Sam told us?” put in Gimli, “About the incident with Pippin?” He looked at Éomer. “When Pippin was still a young lad, and those two not much older, they dared him into a foolish stunt and Pippin nearly died of it. That also was all the idea of Clovis Banks.”

“Have they the means to pay weregild?” Éomer asked.

“No,” replied Éothain. “All the property of their father was forfeit to the Shire when he was deemed a traitor, and the lads are under age and have no property of their own.”

“So. Servitude, then. I shall have to give some thought as to what form that will take. I know all of you are tired now. Legolas and Gimli, guest chambers have been prepared for you. Éothain, I know you wish to see your family. I will see all of you at the feast this evening.”

 





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