Chapter Forty-Seven – And You, My Friend…

Ragnhild gave a strangled cry and urged her horse forward, sword shining in the sun as she brought it up to strike. Listöwel jumped in front of Indis, but the defensive move was not needed. Ragnhild fell to the ground without a sound, her throat pierced by an arrow.

Indis fell to her knees in horror, her arms stretched out before her, but empty; her mouth opened wide, but voiceless. For many moments, none moved. Slowly, holding his hands before him in a sign of surrender, Haleth stood and whispered, “I am sorry. I… I did not order her to attack. I di… di… did not,” he stammered. “Do not slay me. I ordered my men to stand down.”

Listöwel moved towards the boy, picked up his sword and offered it to him, then drew him away from Indis, handing him into Ciramir’s care. Moving forward, she ordered Haleth’s men to drop their weapons. It was done quickly. Ciramir ordered a company of infantry to collect the armament, while another company took the enemies’ mounts in hand. Haleth’s men dismounted and were led, walking, back towards the farm. Ciramir’s own infantry guarded them. Listöwel ordered all but a half company, led by Durahil, to follow the band to the farm. Then, she stood behind her Regent and waited. The half company ringed round them for protection and, hopefully, comfort.

Silence still reigned. Indis had not moved; she knelt and looked at the body that lay less than three rods from her. The sweet brown eyes lay open; the golden, Rohirric hair lay splayed about the head; the arms that once embraced her in friendship lay askew. At last, Indis dropped her head, wailed inconsolably, and beat furiously at the ground.

After a sufficient amount of time had passed, in Listöwel’s mind, Gondor’s Captain-General strode forward and knelt at her friend’s side. “It is best, I suppose, Indis. Ciramir reports that Borondir died an hour after we left him. She could not live without him.”

The bent head hung lower; the shoulders began to shake uncontrollably. Listöwel held her friend and pulled her tightly to her. “I know these platitudes do naught to assuage your grief, but if she was still spell-fixed, and she would never have attacked you if she were not, then it is again better that she is dead. She could not bear the shame of knowing what she had done. And if the spell could not be lifted, what then?”

Indis leaned into her friend and wrapped her arms about Listöwel’s arm. Her chin shook as she tried to speak, but naught came from her mouth. Listöwel stroked her hair and whispered words of comfort. “She is with Borondir now. I believe this. She will be forgiven, for was it not the weakness of Rohan that caused this. The wizard picked his instrument well. Ragnhild was more victim than culprit, Indis. You know this. We will not revile her memory because of this. She was a dear friend who was o’ertaken by evil.”

At this, Indis’ body stiffened. Listöwel drew back in surprise. The look of pure hatred that stared out of her friend’s eyes frightened her. “Indis, I speak truly. It was not Ragnhild’s fault.”

“Nay!” Indis spat. “It was the wizard’s! Ever did my brother warn me against wizards and I would not listen to him. Not on Mithrandir’s part. Yet that wily one withheld this information. Did not warn me of the wickedness of his own.” She shook in fury. “They are banned from Gondor forever. Both of them.”

“Indis,” Listöwel whispered in horror. “Do not give such an order. Ever has Mithrandir been friend to Gondor. We are not even certain if Curunír put a spell upon Ragnhild, though it seems only likely; yet, you cannot ban Mithrandir. He was your father’s counselor. And your own!”

“Counselor!” Another spat word. “Counselor for things that concern him, not for Gondor! I swear, if I see him again in the Citadel’s halls, I will have him hanged!”

~*~

Imrahil, Listöwel and Indis sat before the fire in Nolondil’s home. The descendant of Morwen Steelsheen, Listöwel decided, certainly carried a great resemblance to Morwen's line. Besides the likeness, he had a courtly manner about him. She noted that Imrahil watched as Nolondil poured the decanted wine into goblets. The Prince gave him a slight, approving nod, and drank of the offering.

They seemed as old friends, Listöwel thought, then realized they perhaps were. In fact, she blushed slightly at the recollection, they were cousins. She had been too long away from the Court of Dol Amroth to have forgotten this little detail.

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair; the silence in the room was deafening. “Prince Imrahil,” she decided it was time to at least speak, if only in pleasantries, “your cousin’s wine is quite good.”

“It is indeed, if I may say so,” Nolondil spoke before Imrahil could reply, “for the vines come from my cousin’s own vineyards.” He nodded his thanks to Imrahil and continued, “We are blessed with the finest soil in all of Gondor, and that makes it possible for us to supply Dol Amroth with a goodly supply on a regular basis.”

“I do not know what to do with her body,” Indis sighed and all eyes turned to the Regent.

“I will order it sent to Edoras,” Imrahil suggested, once he caught his breath at the surprise of her statement. She had not spoken a word since Ragnhild was shot.

Another sigh.

“I think she should be buried with Borondir in Tarnost,” Listöwel opined. “She was happy there,”

Indis looked up, gratitude filling her eyes. “Indeed, Listöwel. Thank you.”

“I will see it done then.” Imrahil stood and left the house.

“I am sure he is sending for Borondir’s body. They will travel together and be buried on his estate.”

“Yes, I am sure,” Indis looked down at her hands.

Listöwel noted the bleeding knuckles. “What have you done to yourself?”

Her friend looked at her, surprise evident as she looked at her hands. “I do not know.” She shuddered.

Nolondil’s wife quickly brought forth a small healer’s kit. She offered winter hazel as Nolondil brought warmed water from the fireplace. Listöwel quickly cleansed the wounds and applied the liniment. Indis thanked her and grew quiet once again. Nolondil and his wife nodded to Listöwel and left the room.

“What will you do with Haleth’s men?”

“I will send them back to Tarnost. The men, not their captains. Haleth and his captains will be brought back to Minas Tirith. I have promised mercy to the boy. I do not believe his older, wiser captains should be accorded such leniency.”

Listöwel nodded in agreement. “Ardamin will discharge the matter. I am sure Imrahil will want a say in what is done with them.”

Indis looked up in surprise. “This is Gondor’s problem, not Imrahil’s. I will have them handed over to Hador and Galdor, not Imrahil’s governor. They have served Gondor well. They will know what to do with these men.”

Listöwel bit her lip. Tarnost was a fiefdom of Gondor’s, that was true, but it was within Belfalas’ borders; therefore, it was under Imrahil’s direct control. She took a deep breath. “My Regent, though Tarnost falls within the realm of Gondor’s authority, Imrahil has direct charge. You do him a disservice by abrogating his purview. It is tradition: the peoples of Belfalas are under his jurisdiction.”

Indis stood up and looked down upon her Captain-General. “You do not have to remind me of Gondor’s traditions. These are traitors; they should be hanged in the Citadel. I give leniency when I allow her to be buried in Tarnost. She should be left in the fields for the carrion birds to indulge.”

Shivering, Listöwel remained seated. “I thought we agreed that Ragnhild was spell-fixed and not bound by the term traitor.”

“She is a traitor to me!” Indis screamed. “To me. I was her friend. I was her friend.” The last was whispered. “How could she betray me so? And not only me, Listöwel, but Faramir also. She swore she loved him. Do you not remember? The day they returned from Dol Amroth she said, ‘I have come to love him,’” Her chin shook. “How could she plan harm for the boy? How could she further hurt him after all he has been through? She knew his suffering.”

“I know not. When you question Haleth, I hope these things will be answered. For now, Indis, let not anger nor hurt o’ercome your love for her. She was not herself.” Listöwel sank to the floor and was now crying unabashedly. “She was a dear friend. She did not betray you nor Faramir. She loved you both. She was not herself.”

Indis knelt in front of her Captain-General. Pulling her friend close to her, she wept with her. “My heart aches beyond endurance, Listöwel. Forgive me these unkind words. She was indeed friend and is now one of Gondor’s beloved fallen. You are a dear friend, Listöwel, to suffer my flairs of temper.”

“Nay, Indis! Gondor has suffered much in these times. You have endured an even greater suffering. To have lost your brother and then your husband, to have watched as Boromir was slain before your very eyes, to have had the reins of Gondor thrust upon you, to see Gondor wracked by treachery, and Faramir on death’s door; now, once again, to be betrayed, and this time by a friend…”

Silence filled the room as both women contemplated the cataclysm of chance that had assailed them these past two years.

After a time, Imrahil returned and found them sitting together, holding hands on the settle in front of Nolondil’s fireplace. “A company will leave at first light and collect Borondir’s body. Then they will meet here, be joined by another company, and return to Tarnost with Haleth’s men. I will send a missive first thing on the morrow to Ardamin. What would you have done with them, Indis?”

She pulled her head from Listöwel’s shoulder. “I would have them all hung, but they were only soldiers doing what I hope they thought was their duty to Gondor. Yet, I cannot leave them walking about with no punishment.”

“The road from Tarnost to Minas Tirith is in disarray. Mayhap they could spend a year in Gondor’s service, repairing it?”

She bent her head. “Those I saw were very young, like unto their lord, Haleth - but for those who are the heads of their houses – they would need to be paid. I do not want to leave families suffering and without food because of the foolishness of their fathers and husbands.”

Imrahil nodded. “That is all well and good. But we should not pay some and not others.”

“Nay, we cannot.” She smiled wryly. “Put their women and children on the dole. It will shame those who joined this traitorous action and will serve as warning to any who would give thought to another such defilement!”

Imrahil nodded. “Wisely thought out, my Regent.”

“I am tired, Imrahil. I will retire now. I would like to leave at first light. When will you leave?”

“As soon as you and your men are away, I will return to Dol Amroth. Valanestel will remain here?”

“That he will, along with a cavalry company, in case Faramir has need. I will send a missive to you, when Faramir is to return. I promised him you would accompany him home?”

“I would be delighted,” the prince smiled gently. “Can you imagine what tales he will have to tell? It will be a joyous ride and I thank you for gifting me with it.”

She nodded and turned towards the room Nolondil’s wife had prepared for her. Listöwel left with Imrahil and gave orders for the morrow’s march. At last, Gondor’s Captain-General returned to the house and fell asleep in front of the fireplace.

~*~

A/N – 1) Nolondil: see http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Nolondil; 2) Estate is a ME word originated somewhere around 1170 AD; 3) Dole – absolutely amazed me that this ME word and concept is so old – from before 1000 AD! http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/dole; 4) Measurements - 1 league = 3 miles; 1 mile =8 furlongs; 1 furlong = 40 rods; 1 rod = 6 paces (which in later days to provide consistency among surveyors was quantified as 5-1/2 yards); 1 pace = the length of a grown man's stride. However, Hobbit measurements are entirely different: 1 nail = 1/2 in. 3 nails = 1 toe. 6 toes = 1 foot. 3 feet = 1 step. http://articles.latimes.com/2004/mar/24/nation/na-tolkien24