Gondor's King

Chapter 8

The loud chatter that fills the court chamber falls silent as Breachtian opens the closed wooden doors and a herald announces my arrival. Respectfully all of those gathered bow towards me with regard as I make my way silently to my chair at the head of the council table. It has been many months since I was last seated in the presence of a full council. While the previous situation was more a happy occasion to discuss Breachtian’s coming of age, today I am no more agreeable than an orc with a sorehead.

“You may be seated.” I shift my parchment upon the large wooden table in front of me, as there is a scuffing of chairs as my council obey my command. Breachtian is seated to my right and to my left are the chancellery and my century of the guard. Kahual is seated away from the table a little behind me, while he will never sit at the council table as his brother does he will always be present at meetings such as these.

“My lord the council take the opportunity to welcome you formerly home, your long absence from Minas Tirith has been felt acutely.” A councillor from the lower lands stands in the extended silence and warmly offers his welcome to me. While I am not in the mood for pleasantries I do not object and merely acknowledge him with an appreciative nod of my head.

“We are told that the elves of Rivendell have recovered from their misfortunate illness remarkably well under your guidance Telcontar. It is a comfort that our elvan neighbours are of good heath once again.” Another of the councillors from the lower lying lands makes reference to my original reason for leaving Minas Tirith and I thank him quietly for his concern, content that not all of my council have forgotten the illness which threatened the elves of Rivendell.

“Your comfort I am sure is shared by all present Councillor Theo. I have the good fortune of bringing word that the lord of Rivendell will be present at the festivities I have planned for next week.” While I am amiable I do not hide the seriousness in my tone, as there is a unanimous mutter of joyous agreement to my news. I note to my side Breachian’s uncharacteristic quietness but I do not question it as I rise from my seat, to gather the council’s attention again. “It saddens me therefore to also be the bearer of bad tidings concerning our elvan neighbours in the North.” There is a hushed silence as I lower my voice to an angry growl. Breachtian moves uncomfortably as I move away from my chair and begin a slow walk around the long banquet table, which is occupied fully by all the councillors of Gondor. All eyes are trained on me in nervous anticipation of what I shall speak of next. There are many generations of men sitting at the table and while I know that each were chosen for their uncommon reliability, I can not help but see all of them at present as potential traitors. “The woodland realm of Mirkwood is being ambushed by parties of men seeking elvan lives to trade feely in slavery.” There is a short gasp from some of the men but I do not falter in my silent steady walk around the table. Some of the men catch my gaze but I do not show any signs of weakness as I continue to scan them each individually for signs of their own disloyalty.

”What has this to do with Gondor my lord? Our laws against slavery of any kind prevent such activities from happening within our city.” The Chancellery’s voice betrays his inner fear as he speaks up from the other end of the table to which I am now jusssinssing on my walk.

“Yes the laws have sufficiently prevented our people from actively participating in these sickening practises but it seems of late that some of you believe yourself above these laws.” A confused mutter breaks around the table but I silence it immediately by slamming the large files of parchment Legolas had written for me upon the table causing a deafening slap from the mahogany surface. From previous perusal of the parchments I know that they contain only those incidents of Arnor’s men attacks and nothing of what I had overheard the night of the feast but I am determined not to be stopped by something so trivial when an age-old alliance is at stake.

“I beg your explanation my lord, you seem to be accusing us of breaking the laws which we alone have seen enforced upon our lands.” A councillor for a small town near the western boarders stands hastily and challenges my authority. The councillors next to him instantly subdue him and return him to his seat as I turn and glare at him with cold regard.

“A party of men took by force two young elven warriors from their posts outside Mirkwood’s palace on the eve of my arrival within the forest. The riders bore the mark of Gondor and of Rohan’s royal guard. You know as well as I that my guard is not permitted to leave Gondor’s boarders unless under council order or in accompaniment of myself.” Finally I reach my chair again and I angrily glance at length at all of the faces, which are now staring at me stunned from around the table in front of me. I linger longer than necessary upon the century of my guard his face uncharacteristically calm for a man who was chosen for his fighting spirit. “There are traitors among you and those that protect these traitors are equal if so more of the charge of treason. It is by order of the King of Gondor that this council is guilty of Treason until those truly responsible for these crimes are recovered and punished.” There is a gasp from all those around as I place the relevant documents upon the table in front of me. Breachtian lowers his head to stare at the paper that is now firmly beneath my flattened palm on the table. “I will not be betrayed by my own people to risk such a fragile alliance in pursuit of greedy, selfish inhumane acts against the elvish freedom. You are all hereby confined to the boarders of Gondor any found in breach will be killed like the traitors they are. You have until the dawning of the last night of the week following to bring those responsible to my feet, less you will all pay for this deceit of me. You will pay with your own lives for those elvish ones lost.” I straighten myself from the table my cold facial expression not faltering as all the councillors rise obediently and bow low in acknowledgement of my decision. “There will be elven visitors to our lands for the festivities of next week. I expect that this matter will not arise in their presence at any time and will not affect the occasion, which is to be celebrated. They will be as welcome as oth other guests of the king would be, and liberties of any kind are not to be taken during their stay.”

“Yes my lord.” The chancellery answers quietly for all those around him at my stern command as I gesture for Breachtian and Kahual to leave before me, so that I see them safely from the chambers, which I believe now to be in a very angry atmosphere.

”I will be taking archery practice in gardens for the rest of the morning before retiring to my study for the remainder of the day to make plans for the celebration. Any of you wishing to discuss this matter with me may do so on an individual basis, on the understanding that it is not discussed outside these chamber walls. Now if you’ll excuse me I have some other more agreeable matters to attend to.” Without waiting to be announced to be leaving I turn and walk swiftly away from the chambers. My courtiers struggle to keep up with me as the councillors all bow once again at my retreat. Despite the fact I have done so well to keep my countenance throughout the whole ordeal inside I am already questioning my actions in the matter. I hope in all interests I have done the right thing by my action and have not been blinded by my own anger and emotions towards the people of Mirkwood and more particularly it’s King.

After dismissing Breachtian from my side I move to take my solitude within the gardens that surround my chambers. I am angry and I will be no good to any of my advisors after lunch if I do not take the time to calm down now. The sweet smelling violets that I had planted last spring have come into full bloom and I inhale the fragrance that clings to the air around me, as I sit upon a small stone bench aid mid myself of my footwear. Just as the elves do I prefer to wander bear footed upon the grass and on such a warm morning the cool feel of the silvery blades is a most welcome comfort. Standing I fold my arms into my stately robes andin ain a steady walk through the tree lined paths of my garden. The contentment at being surrounded by bird song is quiet comforting after being away for so long from these parts. While the beauty of Rivendell and Mirkwood are rare delights to be savoured, my own home in Minas Tirith provides me with the greatest delight. A cooling breeze hits my face as I climb a small knoll and sit down upon it to look out at the white city below. My thoughts linger briefly on my home but are quickly replaced by thoughts of Legolas. It seems but only a few moons since we walked together in these gardens. He was but a headstrong young prince and I still a ranger of the wild. While I would never speak of it, the memory of his lips against mine were what kept the warmth in my heart during the lonely battles I fought, back when Middle Earth hung in the balance. Despite myself I feel the salty moisture of tears fall from my eyes, to trickle like streams upon my cheeks. While I have done my duty as King of Gondor my heart still yearns for the one I gave up.

I am truly lost without him.

“My Lord?” A gently spoken voice disturbs my silent mourning and I consciously wipe my cheeks with the sleaves of my robe before turning to address who ever it is who has sought me out. The young chambermaid before me lowers herself easily to my side before removing a rolled parchment from the concealment of the sleave of her gown. She is nervous as she hands it to me her eyes not meeting mine at all. It is unusual to find a housemaid venturing beyond the veranda’s of the house to the gardens but I make no comment less I frighten her more. “A man, his face hidden from my view, bid me to give this to you my . He. He sought me out in the fields, where I was gathering flowers for your daughters bedroom.” With curiosity I roll the the parchment in my hand to note any signs of a seal, apart from the waxed string that holds it together but I find no indication of whom it is from. “He begged me to hand deliver it my lord, and tell no one else of it’s existence. Please I beg your forgiveness for my stepping out of place.” I smile warmly at the timid young girl and place a soothing hand upon hers, which trembles with fear upon her lap.

“You are forgiven my dear girl and I thank-you for delivering this to me.” I watch as she smiles almost in relief before moving to rise from the ground. Without meaning to I grab her wrist a little tight as I prevent her from moving, and cause a flash of fear to grace her pretty features but they settle again as I remove my hand from her arm. “Tell me did the man who gave you this tell you who he was and where he was from?” I watch patiently as the young girl shakes her head easily.

“No my lord he spoke only of what I was to do and paid me in two gold pieces to see it done.” The young chambermaid uncurls her left hand and reveals two shinny pieces of gold. She goes to hand them to me but I simply shake my head and curl her fingers gently back over the small wealth she holds in her palm. “He carried a staff like a lame man might but he showed no signs of ill health when he left me. A horse he had too, a fair black stallion with no markings of realm. His face was covered with his coat so I can tell you know more my Lord, only that he spoke to me with soft whisperings and a kind tone.” I nod in understanding thankful of the young woman’s observant nature, even though her descriptions lead me to no conclusions of where the message has come from.

“Thank-you again, my child. You may return to the house to continue your duties but I beg of you to keep the secrecy of this message as it was not meant for others.” She rises slowly to her feet and bows respectfully before turning and disappearing out of view and back up the garden path to the palace. Sighing I turn my attention back to look out at the city as I gently untie the string and unroll the message. To my surprise a small jewel falls from the loosened message and into my lap. Intrigued I pick it nd rnd rest the fragile article in my palm to inspect it closer. There is no doubting from where the jewel has come from, it’s craftsmanship exquisitely evlish in it’s design. For a moment I have to ponder upon the item, which looks to be a clasp for the hair or maybe a cloak, before I remember where I have seen something like it before. I remember having seen the same thing clasping Haldair’s hair back during the feast at Mirkwood. And I also believe I saw the same clasps holding together the cloaks of the Royal Mirkwood Guard. Curiosity gets the better of me a dis disregard the object of my scrutiny for a moment to read the parchment it was wrapped in. The words are in elfish and I read slowly in order to interpret them clearly.

The writer speaks of the sickness in Rivendell and of Mirkwood’s troubles with ambushes. To my utter surprise the writer also speaks of my overhearing the conversation in Mirkwood and of the deception within my court. The note continues with knowledge of something I am not familiar with, a place in Gondor where elves are traded as freely as if it were a legal practice. Finally to my horror the note suggests that from within my court there are men who have been hired to capture a certain elf in particular from the realm of Mirkwood. The note is not signed by anyone and merely ends abruptly with a large dark smudge of ink. While the letter does not tell specifics it angers and confuses me all the same. I wish only that they had written more but I am not so lucky. Hastily resolved that I must seek council from Elrond on this serious matter I rise to my feet and hide both the letter and the jewel inside my robes. I will not even attempt to discern this matter without my elder’s guidance considering it concerns his race of people and threatens the freedom of many. Turning quickly I run back through the garden towards my chambers, ignoring the concerned looks from my courtiers as I go. A message must be sent to Rivendell immediately and I have only a short time to write it. Deceit is no more poison to taste than when it comes from your home boarders.

TBC……………………..