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Just Desserts  by Lindelea

Chapter 7. Hurry Up and Wait

The sergeant saluted again, but instead of the usual dismissal one of the gallows guards said, 'You are not relieved.'

'Not relieved!' he protested. 'Falathar, what is this nonsense? We have delivered our charges safely...'

Falathar shrugged and spread his arms to the sides. 'Do you see Balanurthon here? He was called away but a few moments ago, by order of the King, and his assistant is abed with a serious fever this day. There'll be no hangings until Balanurthon returns.'

***

'A stroke of pure brilliance,' Hilly said, riding before Bergil on the saddle that he might take in their surroundings without a great hulking Man blocking his vision, 'inviting the King's executioner to come along with us...'

'Inviting!' Balanurthon said, riding alongside. 'Pure threat would be the more likely description. First you lure me away, Bergil, saying you have a message from the King, and then you tell me it'll be the worst day of my life if I return to the gallows without seeing the King first... and only after the city is out of our sight do you tell me that we are riding into the wilderness to seek the King, who is who-knows-where to be found... and how would you know that he had a message for me, if he left before the dawning?'

'Peace, Balanur,' Bergil said, raising a gauntleted hand to halt their progress while he scrutinised the faint track leading from the main road that ran between Fornost and the rebuilt Annuminas. 'Had you tarried but a moment more there would have been a world of trouble. Believe me, this was the easier way.'

He had been counting the byways as they rode, and he certainly hoped he had not missed any. Some were freshly engraved into the landscape, from farmers driving wains to market or animals to the stockyards, and some were faint as from infrequent use.

He nodded at another passing group, on their way into the city for market day, ignoring the stares of curiosity at the picture they presented: guardsman in the black-and-silver of Gondor, accompanied by one of the Halflings and a man in the unrelieved black of the King's justice.

'I only hope you haven't brought me out here on an Ent-hunt,' Balanurthon said. 'A world of trouble, you say? And I say, what will the Steward have to say to me on my return? I have a full docket this morning: a branding, two floggings, and several in the stocks who will want release when the sunset bells ring... not to mention the hangings you say are waiting...'

'Not to mention,' Hilly said sourly.

'Branding and floggings can wait,' Bergil said practically, 'and the men in the stocks have earned a day of scorn and discomfort. We ought to be back well before the sunset bells, I hope.'

'I certainly hope so,' Balanurthon said. 'There's already a body hanging from the gallows, that must be cut down at sun's set, and if I don't get back before the sunset bells any other hangings will have to wait for the morrow.'

'And this is a bad thing?' Hilly said, involuntarily. He felt Bergil stiffen and then relax once more.

'Not all men...' Bergil began.

'You need not state the obvious,' Hilly said. 'Far be it from me to repeat Ferdi's refrain: "All Men are ruffians" but I know very well that not all are as upright as yourself, Bergil.'

'Or the King,' Bergil prompted. It was an old jest between them.

Hilly snorted.

'The King?' Balanurthon said in wonder. He'd heard that Halflings bandied light words about heavy subjects, but to speak so...

'I haven't quite made up my mind about him yet,' Hilly said, casting a dark look at the executioner. 'This hanging business...'

Balanurthon took a deep breath, ready to defend his occupation, but Bergil interrupted. He'd made up his mind, and turned his horse's head along the faint track leading from the road. 'This way,' he said.

'I only hope you know what we're doing,' Balanurthon said.

So do I, Bergil thought, but had too much presence of mind to say. So do I.

***

'I could hang them up for you, but they wouldn't thank me for it,' Falathar said, after they had waited for more than an hour, with no sign of Balanurthon's return, and not even a message from the man to say how long he would be delayed. 

Sam frankly stared at this sentiment, but Pippin, understanding, looked grimmer still. The men employed by the Crown to hang condemned criminals knew their business: They set the knot of the rope in such a way as to break the neck of the hanged man as he fell, ensuring a relatively quick and painless death.

The ruffians, on the other hand, who had ruled the Shire under Sharkey's hand, were not so careful in their work. Or perhaps it would be better to say that their care lay in the opposite direction. The few hobbits hanged by the ruffians, rebels and troublemakers, Tooks for the most part... it made Pippin sick to think of them. The ruffians were careful in arranging the rope, just as careful as the King's executioner, but their aim was to prolong the dying and accompanying pain and fear. This piece of nastiness had saved Pippin's cousin Ferdibrand, who'd been cut down before the slow-strangling rope could complete its task, but the hobbits who couldn't be saved...

'Steady,' Merry said softly, a hand on his cousin's arm, and Pippin took a deep breath and forced himself to relax once more.

'Certainly,' he gritted. 'You want an expert, for a job like this one.'

Huor and Gumlin, still bearing Jack between them, shifted uneasily.

'At least it saves us the trouble, for the time being, of Merry and myself offering our lives in place of theirs,' Pippin added, and desperate as the situation was, he nearly laughed at the men's shocked expressions.

Falathar began to think that this was not going to be as routine a matter as was usual.

Samwise was just as startled as the Men, for there had been no time, in the hurry since they'd been informed of the danger to Jack and Will, to discuss such matters. However, he quickly took hold of himself and spoke up firmly. 'And myself, if need be.'

'I...' Falathar said, beyond words. Worse and worse. He began to wonder if being abed with a high fever was such an unwelcome affliction.

Haleth, on the other hand, stood numbly, wanting this to be over and done. As a good friend of Turambor the greengrocer, he knew Gwill and Gwillam; he'd drunk the new father's health at the celebration, just the other day, when by custom the babe was deemed old enough to see the world outside of home and be seen by the world. He had scarcely heeded the hobbits. He wanted only to be away from this grisly place, with one corpse already hanging and ropes at the ready, waiting for more.





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