Chapter 8. A Cup of Cold Water 

The old man stirred and whispered. Water.

Huor and Gumlin exchanged glances. They knew what they ought to do, but not if it was allowed under the circumstances...? In previous experience, they'd delivered a prisoner to his doom and, relieved of further responsibility, had marched away again as Balanurthon and his assistant began to go about their business.

The guardsmen hesitated, wound about with oppressive regulations, presented with a situation not covered by their orders, and having no enemy in sight to clarify matters. To make things worse, the Steward who governed in the King's absence had grown increasingly grim since the death of his son by the treachery of ruffians seeking entry into the Shire, and the gold (it was rumoured) to be found there. One did not want any hint of dereliction of duty to be brought to the Steward's attention.

Jack licked dry lips and tried to open his eyes. 'Water,' he murmured. 'Please...'

The hobbits, however, did not suffer from such worries.

'Water,' Pippin said, his tone brooking no contradiction. Haleth and the escort detail carried no water. He turned to the gallows guards. 'Surely you have water here. Hanging men up must be thirsty work.'

Falathar cleared his throat, not sure how to answer this sentiment. It was true, he often sought out a beer or several at the end of the day, though he'd grown somewhat used to the duty. It helped to think of it as routine, nothing more, not lives cut off. If he happened to think about the man he steadied as the executioner adjusted the noose, he rationalised that this work made the city a safer, cleaner place.

And in truth, when he read the report of their crimes, as written in the death warrants, he felt a certain satisfaction in his work. But these men before him, whose only crime appeared to be that they had wandered into the Shire against the King's edict...

'Water,' Pippin repeated. 'If not for him, then for me.'

Falathar gave him a startled look. He'd heard that the Halflings were soft folk, on the outside, with a core of hard iron, but this one spoke with a hardness to his tone worthy of the Steward himself. 'Certainly, sir,' he fumbled, and went to fill Balanurthon's own cup, the least battered of the vessels kept there for the convenience of those who laboured in that place from dawn until dusk. 'Here you are, sir,' he said on his return.

'My thanks,' Pippin said, taking the cup, but he did not sip. Instead, he carried the cup to Haleth. 'Jack wants water,' he said. 'I daresay he needs it, poor fellow, after you marched him through the streets at a pace that brought him to collapse, and then made him wait on his arrival, for more than two hours now...' For the sun was approaching her zenith. Pippin wondered: Had Bergil found the King? Trust Strider to wander off, just when he was needed!

Haleth hesitated, and then his indecision seemed to fall away. He took the cup with a firm, 'Yes, sir!' and turned to the prisoner Huor and Gumlin held, lifting Jack's head with one hand while he held the cup to the old man's lips with the other. 'Here you are, Gwill. Here is your water. Drink, now.' The guardsmen under his authority watched with mingled astonishment and growing satisfaction.

Will watched as his father sipped, then gulped thirstily. His own mouth was dry, but a prisoner was bound to silence, and so he said nothing. He would manage.

Mayor Sam was of a different opinion. 'What about Will?' he said. 'Surely a cup of cold water for him as well...?'

Will wanted to say that it was well with him, even though it wasn't, but the gruff guardsman still flanked him and so he held his tongue. What a surprise it was, then, that Haleth refilled the cup and brought it to him, urging him to drink. A part of him wondered, even as he drank, if he would have risked a beating by disobeying.

'Set him down,' Haleth said now, and Huor and Gumlin sat Jack on the edge of the platform, still supporting him between them. It was a relief, however, not to be bearing his weight any longer.

Gwill's breath was rasping, and Haleth bent near. 'Gwill,' he said. 'How is it with you?'

The old man opened his eyes and smiled wearily. 'I am well, Haleth,' he said. 'As well as can be expected. I was up with my grandson all the night through, and had just managed to fall asleep when you knocked upon my door. My morning constitutional was a bit brisker than I am used to, and I ate little to speak of last night, and did not break my fast this morning... but the rope looms ever closer,' he glanced at the hanging corpse, 'and I suspect my troubles will soon be over.'

Haleth dropped his eyes, but the old man spoke again. 'Do not blame yourself, lad,' he said. 'I am reaping the bitter harvest of a foolish choice, sown long years ago and only now coming to fruition.' He looked to Will. 'I am only sorry that you were caught up in it all.'

Will tried to smile, and the old man nodded. 'Courage,' he added. 'Not that I'd expect anything less from you, my son.' He closed his eyes and sagged once more in his captors' grip.

'A healer,' Merry said, his tone decisive. 'He doesn't look well, cousin.'

'Not even under the circumstances,' Pippin agreed, and turning to Haleth, added, 'Send one of your men.'

Haleth saluted, glad that the Ernil i Pheriannath outranked him. When he was questioned by the Steward later this day, as seemed inevitable, he could truthfully claim that he was only following orders. Pippin could not have ordered the release of Jack and Will, since that would contravene the direct order of the Steward, but Haleth's orders had been to arrest the men and bring them to the gallows, nothing more. Technically he was already in trouble for releasing Robin, but the Halfling had had the right of things; Robin had been a mere child at the time Jack led the boys into the Shire, and so they could hardly in justice hang him for it, even though he was old enough now to bear the penalty.

'Yes, sir!' he said smartly, and found it difficult to suppress a grim smile of satisfaction.