Quenta Roqueni, Book One

THE THIEVES OF METRAITH

An Adventure in Middle-earth*

By Vincent Roiron and Lowell R. Matthews

With Gavin Carey, Woodrow H. Kroll III, George Photopoulos,
Trevor Sanders, and Christian Wirtnik
Copyright 1999-2000

Chapter XVII: Blue Oak Diversions

The seven companions rode back towards the Blue Oak through pleasantly
cool night air amid alternating pools of lamplight and shadow. Jiff and
Phillip, relieved to be out of the oppressive stone fortress, kept the others
laughing with tales of wild exploits. At the Blue Oak they found a welcoming
committee, a pair of guardsmen sent to hold their rooms and remind them
about the morning carriage. The groom and his boys collected their horses
with much bowing and chattering about the lords’ important business at the
Thalion while the pot-bellied innkeeper greeted them from the front porch.
Once inside, the companions sat down to a late dinner while Mariah the
cook and her serving girls fussed over them. While the meal might have
been cold dregs now compared to earlier, it was still very good; Mariah’s
talents were obvious.

Soon thereafter, Carangil rose and smiled. "Good night, gentlemen. If you
plan to stay up longer, enjoy your entertainment. I think a good night’s rest
will sharpen my mind for the morning. Oh, I think we should dress as
formally as possible; I will wear my good surcoat and mail."

"Ah ... ." Jiff looked worried. "I don’t really have any smart clothes ... . I
might need to borrow some, or else go shopping!"

"I fear you and I are not the same size," Carangil grinned. "Neither are any
of the rest of us. Fear not; I will speak to the innkeeper on your behalf.
Gentlemen, ‘may the Stars guard your rest and the rising Sun kiss you
awake.’"

The others laughed and returned Carangil’s farewell in their own fashions.
He spoke to the innkeeper, then went upstairs; they sought their own
diversions. Kirdan and Elenárion hoisted mulled wines and soon sat
enthralled by Aeglorias’ tales of the Greenwood. Berek raided the kitchen’s
firewood bin for a suitable log, then sat down again, happily carving and
adding occasional detail to Aeglorias’ tales. Phillip preferred another
diversion. He wasted no time in chatting up the minstrel’s pretty assistant,
and cheered her good but not perfect performances loudly. Jiff was torn for
a moment between joining his cousin or the older men, but soon fascination
with Berek’s skilled carving and Aeglorias’ stories won him over. Soon the
innkeeper’s pleasingly plump wife (who was not Mistress Mariah, they
noted, though maybe her sister or cousin) bustled over to the table. She
fussed over measuring Jiff, promising something suitable for the "great
lords’ young friend" by morning, but her work slowed as she too fell under
the spell of Aeglorias’ enchanting voice.

Berek’s knife caressed the wood. Jiff soon saw a little scene appear on the
side of the log. In the hollow created by the knife two blocks stood out, one
small, one big. Gradually the blocks became figures, bent over and somehow
in motion. Putting aside his knife, Berek pulled out a small, slim tool Jiff
had never seen before. At its very end was a keen but small blade that Berek
used to chip off very small pieces of wood, reaching in and out of the now
hollowed portion of the log. Soon the scene became clear: Two figures were
running, one small in front, and one big following. With an outstretched
hand, the big figure was already touching the small one, holding it and
stopping its flight. Although the figures did not really have faces, it was clear
to Jiff that this scene was Kirdan chasing down Frolo in the streets. Laying
away his tool for a short rest, Berek looked up. "Hmmm, friend Jiff, what do
you think—something to remind young Frolo of the arm of Justice?" Taking
up his knife again, Berek continued to decorate the log.

Phillip entered the Inn once more and looked around, smiling. His evening
was going well. Sharrë, the young minstrel, and he had got along so well
that she had asked him to escort her home, albeit under the distantly
watchful eye of her mentor. The honeyed taste of a feathery kiss lingered on
his lips even now, and her words held interesting promises for the future,
but ... . He passed Elenárion and Kirdan heading upstairs and waved, then
saw Jiff, Berek, and Aeglorias still sitting at their table, with Berek still
carving. He went to the bar and ordered Butterbur Stout, a fine, heady dark
ale from Bree for which he had a certain fondness. As he sighed with the
pure pleasure of it all, he looked around to notice two very beautiful "ladies"
nearby staring at him and smiling.

Now that’s more like it, Phillip thought. He walked over to the "ladies" and
introduced himself. After several minutes of talking, Phillip glanced back
towards the tables and thought that Jiff looked bored. (In fact, he had fallen
into a waking dream of Elves, bears, and the vast forest.) Phillip told the
"ladies" about his cousin. The blonde looked over. "He’s kinda cute. You
sure he’s of age?" she giggled. Phillip laughed, waved to get Jiff’s attention,
and motioned for him to come over.
Jiff "awoke" with a start and saw Phillip’s wave. He smiled and thought, Oh,
dear ... . What is my cousin playing at? I suppose I should go and check ... I
would’ve thought he’d learned his lesson with the young ladies in that inn
back home a while ago!

As Jiff closed on his cousin and the two "ladies," he noticed the hungry look
on the blonde’s face, and he felt a trickle of cold sweat on his back. My, my,
how does Phillip manage to look so cool? I suppose it comes with habit ... .

In his corner, Berek smiled at Jiff’s awkward movements towards the

"ladies." Was there something familiar about them? Hmmm ... I suppose he
has to learn for himself about that...

Phillip introduced Jiff. "Ladies, this is my cousin, Jiff. Jiff, this is Amanda,"
he waved to the brunette, "and Rachel," he waved to the blonde. "I was
telling these ladies how we got here and they wanted to meet you." Phillip
winked at Jiff, then said, "What say you we take a walk? It’s a beautiful
night and… and a walk tonight with you two ladies would just add to the
beauty." Phillip stood and held his hand out to Amanda…. In answer, the
"lady" giggled and let her hand "fall" into Phillip’s ... . Rachel had to be more
assertive, for Jiff was less at ease. They then rose to leave the inn, Jiff with
an uneasy air, Phillip with the quiet confidence of one accustomed to such
situations. As they were walking out, Phillip noticed Berek still sitting and
turned to Amanda, "You wouldn’t have another friend, would you?
Hmmm…. Never mind." Phillip mumbled something to himself and waved
to Berek as they left.

***

After the others left, Berek put away his carving and addressed Aeglorias.
"Hmmm, Master Aeglorias, now that the amulet is recovered and tomorrow
Mich will be accused on its theft as well... hmm ... is there anything you can
tell me about it, apart that it comes from the Elven Rangers of Greenwood?"

Aeglorias smiled at the big man, and looked thoughtful for some time. After
a while, he said, "Berek, I think your family has a long history of friendship
with my people, even though you apparently have forgotten it. You probably
don’t know it, but some of our friendships with Mannish lines go back to the
First Age, when Elves and Mortals fought against the Great Enemy...
Anyway, you know that your people descend from the first Edain to meet
the Elves then, and that your ancestors were allied with us at that time. I
cannot tell you for sure, Berek, but I would not be surprised to learn that the
Elf that your grandfather saved had been connected to your family for a long
time. But this is mere speculation, Berek, and you will have to find answers
for yourself!" Aeglorias paused to collect his thoughts, and then added,
"Your amulet is of Elven make, as you know, and it was forged long ago by
our smiths to help our Rangers in their tasks. It has many properties…. One
of them is to calm foes, as you know; another one would signal you to our
sentinels in Greenwood. But if you want to learn more, you should come to
my King’s court, for I am a mere Ranger, no master of arcane lore ..."

"Hmmm ..." Berek seemed lost in thought, then replied. "I would like to
learn more, Master Aeglorias, for if there is a bond it should not be
forgotten..." Then Berek’s face darkened. "Nor should the fact that my
people failed to stand against the enemy, turning our backs in times of need
from our alli... Our shame is still deep, our sorrow even deeper... But then
we turned back to the righteous path, and our leaders received a blessing
unique to us, the Beijabar, the people of the Bear." His voice became both
deep and proud. "It is a constant reminder to our leaders to fight the enemy
and to live in harmony with nature. But, hmmm… a blessing can be a curse,
as the wise often say… and I do know."

Aeglorias looked somewhat uneasy when Berek reminded him of the failing
of the House of Bëor. Obviously, the Elf considered himself guilty of having
awakened the recollections in Berek's memory. "We will speak again," he
whispered under his breath, and then, in a rare move, patted the distracted
Beijabar's hand. Downing his near-full mug, Berek seemed unaware of his
environment as he silently grumbled to himself.

Chapter XVIII: Judgement Day

For once, the night passed as well as Phillip and Jiff could wish... no late-
night encounters with an unfriendly knife, no bad surprises with the
"ladies". On the other hand, when they heard Kirdan’s voice through the
door the next morning, they found it quite hard to leave the cozy, warm
beds they had slept in so briefly.

From Jiff’s perspective, things quickly went from bad to worse (though it
was just another challenge to Phillip), as the pleasingly plump innkeeper’s
wife and her two daughters bustled into the room bearing Jiff’s freshly
tailored clothes. "Good morning, good Master Jiff," she grinned broadly.
"As promised, ‘something suitable’ for your meeting with great lords. Come,
come, up you go; time’s wasting." For a moment Jiff even forgot to be
embarrassed as she displayed a new tunic in rich mustard and a jacket in
brown velvet trimmed in gold, embroidered on the breast with the half-sun
rising from water in gold thread.

Recovering from his shock, Jiff quickly turned a brighter crimson than the
blouse worn by the innkeeper’s youngest daughter... Looking again at the
marvelous clothing, he began, "Mistress…. From whom do you bring such
fine clothing?"
"Why, the Lord Carangil, of course," she replied, gazing at the foursome in
open disapproval.

"Mistress... I thank you for bringing me such marvelous clothes, and I must
remember to thank Carangil for arranging them on such short notice! If you
will leave now, I will dress. Will you please inform our companions that my
cousin and I will be joining them shortly—won’t we, Cousin?"

"Who? What?" Phillip said while sitting up, barely able to open his eyes.

"As you wish, but please hurry, Masters," the matron said with a hint of
frost, then glared at her giggling daughters and ushered them out of the
room. "The carriage will come soon."

Turning once more to look at the bed to which he felt compelled to return,
Jiff apologized to Rachel, "It’s important for me and my cousin to be
present for the trial’s conclusion today." She nodded and stretched
luxuriously, and Jiff had to turn away quickly or forget his purpose once
more. He made quick use of the basin of water and soap provided in the
corner of the room and dressed in the fine clothing brought to him,
bundling his usual clothes into his bag, before urging Phillip once more,
"Get a wriggle on, Phillip!" He left to meet with the others downstairs.

"I’m comin’, I’m comin’" Phillip grumbled.

It did not take long for the remaining companions to hear about the
commotion raised by the landlady’s entrance into the room occupied by
Phillip, Jiff, and their two lady-friends; they alternated between chuckling
over their breakfasts and light-hearted disapproval. A few minutes later Jiff
descended the stairway into the dining room dressed in the fine suit which,
although not wholly tailor-made for him, fitted rather well. In stark contrast
to this marvelous sight were the shoes Jiff wore—years out of fashion and
extremely scuffed.

When he saw the young Jiff so fashionably clothed, Berek hmmm’ed in an

approving way, then abruptly stopped when he saw the shoes. Hmmm, he
thought, the shirt does suit young Jiff, no doubt, but the shoes…. Why did
he keep the old ones? Perhaps they fit him even better. He smiled silently.
The Beijabar himself had changed, too; he was not wearing the woolen shirt
but a leather vest instead. Additionally, he was wearing a black and sparsely
ornamented leather thong around his head to hold back his hair. He had left
behind his axe and leaned upon his spear, waiting for the company to leave.

Jiff joined the others’ hearty breakfast, but he was quieter than normal, as if
he were present in little more than body only. "I thank you, Lord Carangil,
for the clothing. To what sum am I now indebted to you?"
Carangil replied, "You are welcome, Jiff. As to the money, Kirdan has the
records, but do not worry about it now. I see Mistress Hannah has served
you well—but did she forget the new boots?"

"Thank you, Sir!" Jiff replied. "I will be sure to repay you as soon as you so
desire. As for the boots, they were indeed a marvelous pair, but I am
reluctant to wear any boots but these—they were a gift to me many years
ago from a very special… person. I am extremely reluctant to wear anything
else, but please do not take this as a sign of ingratitude. I am indebted to
you for arranging what I myself forgot to!"

"I see," Carangil replied with a strange smile. Actually, I do not—how could
a pair of boots have such sentimental value? Jewelry, now, or a lady’s
favor…. I suppose they could be that. "Well, then, we still have a few
minutes, so why don’t we see what Mistress Hannah can do with your
favorite pair? Kirdan can keep the new pair for… later."

"As you wish, sire," the young squire took the boots and packed them neatly
in his pack, having to remove and repack some of the other items inside.

"Maybe one day, sirs, the real value of these boots will demonstrate itself,
but until then all I have is a story, which very few people tend to hear and
believe to be true!" Jiff grinned.

"Really?" Carangil looked intrigued. "Well, then, it will make a good story
for the road north."

"Indeed it will, Sir, if you and our companions will hear it with an open
mind, I will gladly tell the tale," Jiff replied.

And so, as Carangil and Kirdan laughed and shared a last sweet pastry (a
local specialty new to them), a pretty maid did her best to revive Jiff’s
favorite boots. She did well, for several years’ hard use appeared to fade
away under her care; Jiff was suitably impressed.

As the yawning Phillip meandered down the stairs, a cold gust of wind from
the front door shocked him fully awake (for the moment). Two guardsmen
in dripping cloaks bustled toward the dining room past the innkeeper and a
groom who struggled to shut the door against the wind. "We have come for
the Roquen Elenárion and his companions," a gruff voice boomed.

"And we thank you for your timely arrival in such inclement weather,
Guardsman," Carangil replied for Elenárion. "Coming, gentlemen?"
Carangil scooped up several more pastries and handed them to a startled
Phillip before donning his cloak to face the rain. The seven companions did
not have to face it long, however, unlike the guards. Lieutenant Gailen had
sent a covered coach, so the companions were crowded but dry.

***

<pBack in the Blue Oak Inn, Amanda and Rachel shared a secret smile. Using the
distraction provided by the companions’ departure, they crept away in concealing
cloaks. Once out of sight, they made their way to a large house Berek and
Aeglorias would have recognized immediately. "We did what you asked, Zeuga,"
Amanda whispered to her eagerly waiting mistress once inside. "Those
two boys sang like nightingales once ‘convinced.’ The hunters’ trail went straight
to Mich, all right, but from there it seems to have wandered off towards Tharbad -
into thin air."

"You’ve done well, my daughters," Zeuga grinned broadly, though the smile did
not reach her eyes. "That fool Mich should've known better than to try to keep Elf-
magic. Oh well, we can always find another fool - they're plentiful." Feminine
laughter rang out into the rain.

***

The Thalion loomed forbiddingly under the grey, weeping skies, but
Lieutenant Gailen’s welcome was warm. His attire, however, caught the
companions off-guard, for he was not wearing the officer’s uniform of the
previous day. Instead, he wore a surcoat in black relieved only by the badge
of Ostoher of Cardolan in silver, and a black mantle trimmed in ermine. He
also carried in the crook of his left arm a sceptre-like black rod topped by
the same silver badge. "What’s all this, Gailen?" Carangil asked while
clasping Gailen’s wrist.

"The uniform of the day," he smiled wryly. Upon seeing Carangil’s quizzical
expression, he explained, "My full title is Lieutenant of Metraith; I am the
principal governor for this district. I do command the Thalion garrison,
true, but I am also prefect and magistrate."

"I see," said Carangil, obviously surprised. "So are the trials then just
formalities? You already know all the details."

"Not all, but most, I hope," Gailen nodded. "The trials are necessary
formalities. Frolo must be tried first, for his testimony damns Mich and
Merta, who will be tried together as their crimes are linked. I know you still
have questions for Mich, and you will be able to ask them."
"You have been more than kind, my Lord Lieutenant of Metraith," Carangil
smiled.

"Thank you," Gailen replied. "Are you still inclined to take Frolo into your
service?"

"I am," Carangil nodded. "Most of my companions are in favor, and even Sir
Elenárion is not opposed."

Elenárion shrugged and said gruffly, "Well, Carangil, if you’re really of a

mind to take this underage Halfling along, I suppose that’s your problem.
Do what you will with him."

Berek shook his head slowly and said gruffly, "I still do not think we offer
him a, hmmm… good choice…. He should stay with his family and not go
questing. His quest should be to find honesty by honest work, and self-
respect by respecting the town’s laws he has violated. But you town-people
are strange to me in your justice, so I will not speak of it further." He
crossed his arms and was clearly not willing to discuss the topic again.

Carangil bowed his head briefly in acknowledgement, then said, "That

brings us back to letting him choose which master to serve. Friend Berek, I
understand your concerns, and I will make sure Frolo understands them too
before he makes his decision."

"Very well, this boy at least will learn the meaning of the word ‘justice,’"
Gailen replied, while smiling at the two knights of the group. "He will not
pay for the crimes of others, and that’s all I could hope for." Then the
Lieutenant smiled a frank smile that recalled his own young age. As
Carangil and Elenárion looked at him very seriously, he recomposed his face
and bearings. "Very well," he said once more, "let us proceed." The sergeant
from the previous day opened the door for Gailen, who, flanked by a squad
of guardsmen, led the procession to the Thalion’s courtroom.

"Hear ye, hear ye, all rise!" bellowed the massive Dúnadan who stood
beside the door. He was armed from head to toe in black-lacquered mail
and bore a greatsword with its black blade bared. "The Court of the Thalion
is now in session! Executing justice in the name of His Royal Highness,
Ostoher Minalcarion, Sovereign Lord of Cardolan, presides His Excellency,
Gailen Galdúnion, Lieutenant of Metraith." By the time the swordsman
finished, Gailen had reached his high seat and the companions had been
escorted to seats near the front of the gallery. Glancing around, Carangil
spotted a contingent of half a dozen Dunmen led by Drukha and Rogda,
Karnouk and his sons, and a few servants from the Fattened Ewe among the
soldiers and officials from the Thalion.
"You may be seated," Gailen commanded, his presence amplified by the
setting. "The Court now pleases to hear the case of Frolo son of Karlo." The
rear door opened and Frolo walked in, flanked by a single guard. He swore
the oath of truth by Ilúvatar and the Valar, then proceeded to tell his story
for the record. When he was finished, Gailen intoned, "Frolo son of Karlo,
you have confessed to several counts of forced entry, grand theft, and
conspiracy upon at least three occasions, and one count of evading arrest.
Nevertheless, this Court finds mitigation in the circumstances of your youth
and the facts that you acted under threat of extortion, then co-operated with
the criminal investigation. The Court chooses to defer sentencing until a
later hour, so for the time being, seat the defendant with his family.

"The Court now pleases to hear the cases of Michar ‘Mich’ Lûcharion and
his wife, Merta Carnelien." The rear door opened again, and Mich and
Merta entered; although not restrained, fully half a dozen guards flanked
them. "Michar ‘Mich’ Lûcharion, you stand confessed of a host of crimes,
the most serious of which include multiple counts of solicitation of criminal
activity by extortion, receiving stolen property, the corruption of a minor,
and conspiracy. Merta Carnelien, you stand confessed of multiple counts of
aiding and abetting criminal activity. The scribe will now read the
interrogation record." At Gailen’s instruction, the scribe (a thin, balding
Man of indeterminate ancestry with permanently ink-stained fingers) read
from a scroll; most of the details were familiar to the companions from
Mich’s arrest.

"The Court now recognizes Hir Carangil Anrohirion Dácilion of Gondor,

representing the parties wronged." Gailen gestured with his rod.

Carangil rose and gave Gailen a small bow, his left hand on his sword hilt
and his right across his chest. "I thank the Court," he replied and moved to
face Mich. "I still have questions for you to answer, Mich. To begin, why did
you steal, or have someone else steal for you, in the first place?"

"The money," he said in a broken tone, glancing sideways at Merta.

"Overreaching greed," Carangil mused. "Why did you make Frolo steal for
you?"

Mich shrugged. "He seemed like he’d make a good thief, and he knew I
could throw his uncle out in the street."

"Did you make anyone else steal for you?" Mich shook his head no.

"Frolo testified to two other thefts. How many thefts have you committed,
or made someone else commit?"
"Just the three," Mich moaned.

"How did you choose your targets?" Carangil continued.

"I picked out the ones who looked filthy rich, and were foreigners. I thought
they’d be less likely to cause trouble. I guessed wrong on you people," he
said bitterly. "I was afraid to send Frolo after you because of your Elf, but I
figured those other two big oafs were safe targets. How was I to know you’d
join forces?" he wailed.

Berek smiled very slowly, turned towards Carangil, then raised his left hand.
The audience was stunned for a moment, waiting for a comment, but Berek
simply closed his hand, finger by finger, and lowered it again.

"I’d think twice about insulting Master Berek, Mich," Carangil warned
sternly, "unless you want to hear what he wanted your punishment to be.
Now, then, we found some of the items stolen from Sir Elenárion and
Master Berek in the hidden drawer of your desk. What happened to the rest
of the gold Frolo stole from them?"

"It’s gone," Mich sighed.

"Too bad for you," Carangil said dryly. "I have one last question: To whom
did you sell your stolen goods? Or in plainer terms, who’s your ‘fence’?"

"I know some ... people ... in Tharbad. I took the stuff there on one of my
monthly trips."

"Tharbad," Carangil echoed, then turned to Gailen. "I am sure that interests
the Court. I thank Your Excellency." He saluted and returned to his seat.

"Yes, it does interest this Court," Gailen replied sternly, "and I am sure you
will have ample time to tell it of your associates. Mich, your guilt is
manifest. In the name of Our Sovereign Lord Ostoher, this Court herewith
orders the seizure and confiscation of all your worldly goods. You are
further remanded into the custody of the Sceptre’s Warden of Criminals for
a period of one year’s servitude at hard labour. Furthermore, at the end of
that servitude, you will be branded and exiled from the realm of Cardolan
for the rest of your natural life. Lastly, as punishment for your attempt to
inflame hatred between the Dúnedain and Dunlendings of Metraith, Chief
Rogda has pronounced a blood curse upon you—enter any Dunnish land,
and the hand of any man may strike you without penalty. May the One and
the Powers have mercy on your soul, should they see fit.

"Merta, your guilt is also manifest but less direct. In the name of Our
Sovereign Lord Ostoher, this Court herewith orders the seizure and
confiscation of all your worldly goods save those few personal items the
Sceptre’s Warden of Criminals shall deem you worthy to retain. You are also
sentenced to branding and exile from the realm of Cardolan for the rest of
your natural life. However, this Court will give you the choice of leaving now
or serving the Sceptre for the term of your husband’s labor and leaving with
him. May the One and the Powers have mercy on your soul, should they see
fit."

As the somber tones of Gailen’s judgement resonated throughout the

courtroom, the ashen-faced Mich and Merta were escorted out at spear-
point. "Rise, Frolo son of Karlo! It now pleases the court to address the
matter of your sentence," Gailen said in tones much less harsh than those
used against Mich and Merta. "In the name of Our Sovereign Lord Ostoher,
for the purpose of your rehabilitation, this Court herewith orders you to
enter a period of service. The nature and duration of this service shall be
determined by your choice of two alternatives.

"First, should you choose to serve the Sceptre, you will fulfil such duties as
are commensurate to your age and abilities here at the Thalion, for a period
no less than five years. Second, should you so choose, Hir Carangil Dácilion
has offered to accept your oath of fealty to serve him as ward and page, and
perform other duties commensurate to your age and abilities. Such fealty
would last until your lord should release you. Both of these alternatives
offer opportunities for advancement once your superior deems you
rehabilitated, and this Court will give you the space of half an hour to ask
questions and make your decision. Choose wisely."

"I will, Your Excellency," Frolo gulped wide-eyed, turning from Gailen to
Carangil and back to Karnouk.

"Then this Court stands in recess for half an hour," Gailen intoned, rising;
so did everyone else at the swordsman’s command. "Master Karnouk, a
moment," Gailen said while approaching. "The Sceptre now finds itself in
possession of a somewhat disreputable inn and a number of private
dwellings. Sirs Carangil and Elenárion have suggested that you might be a
fitting tenant to take charge of them for the Sceptre, and I find I concur.
What say you?"

"Ah, Master, this is a most generous offer, but I am poor and I could not buy
all this property from the Sceptre."

Gailen smiled once more, and then spoke again. "Master Karnouk, the
Elders of the Halfling community have spoken well of you, and hinted that
some of them could loan you the money you would need to buy the Inn. The
Sceptre is also considering the opportunity to allow you to pay what might
remain over some time. The interest would be fair," Gailen added as
Karnouk looked somewhat uneasy, "for you as well as for the Sceptre."

"My Lord Lieutenant, I will then consult the Halfling Elders, and I hope I
will indeed find it possible to take your most generous offer. And, if I dare, I
want to thank you for the fair and kind judgement you pronounced towards
my nephew…."

Gailen smiled, obviously happy at the prospect of having helped the aging
Halfling. "Though I have the utmost respect for the Blue Oak Inn, I am sure
Metraith will fare all the better with another fair inn. I am sure you will find
the necessary funds, and then you will be able to live a better life." He then
turned to go back to his office and said to those near, "This Court is closed.
It will open again to hear the decision of Frolo son of Karlo."

While the companions, the Dunmen, and most of the others present relaxed
over punch and pastries (unfortunately, not Blue Oak quality), Karnouk’s
family and some other Halflings withdrew to their own consultations. Frolo
later came back to the Court in company of his uncle. He looked both
excited and contrite, but Carangil and Kirdan exchanged a look that meant
that they had understood the boy’s decision. "We will need some more
clothes, I’m afraid, my good Kirdan," whispered the young lord.

Kirdan nodded, amused and preoccupied at the same time. Was there not
some wisdom in Berek’s words? Anyway, he would do his best to serve his
master, as always. He nodded silently at his master’s face, and then looked
thoughtful.

Carangil added, "Things will work out for the best either way."

As Gailen moved to the formal seat, the fully armed bailiff called the room
to order once more. Karnouk spoke first, "My Lord, we come back to tell you
what my young nephew decided. I only hope he chose wisely and that he
will learn and take profit from his choice." He then nodded to Frolo, who
spoke in a somewhat frail voice.

"My Lord Lieutenant, I ask you to let me serve Lord Carangil. My uncle,
who is wiser than I am and was, tells me I should explain this choice. I am
young and sometimes too quick at deciding what to do, but for my own
sake, my uncle and me, and the Halfling Elders, though we want to thank
you for your generosity and kindness towards me, decided to accept Lord
Carangil’s offer of service."

Karnouk then spoke once more, "Lord Lieutenant, I don’t want you to
believe we are unfair towards you. It would have been most honorable for
Frolo to serve you here, but the Elders pointed that some here in Metraith
would find the punishment too light. It is the Elders’ understanding that
Rogda and Drukha also find it most appropriate…."

Gailen looked at both Halflings and then answered, "My Lord Carangil,
Masters Rogda and Drukha, Frolo son of Karlo, the Court approves of your
decision. So, be it known that Frolo son of Karlo enters the service of Hir
Carangil Dácilion this day."

Though he did not utter a word, Berek’s face showed clear signs of
disapproval. Hmmm… he thought, it was not much of a choice for a child…
a brightly colored box full of promises unspoken weighed against living at
his father’s place, sweets against bread… May Fate be merciful to you,
Frolo, and make Carangil not regret his offer.

Carangil rose, gave Gailen a slight bow, and moved to stand beside Frolo in
the dock. "I thank the Court, and pledge to it that I shall not fail in my
duties as overlord. Before we continue, Frolo, you must understand that an
oath of fealty is a thing of the utmost seriousness, and once taken is almost
never released, even unto succeeding generations. Neither is such an oath
lightly broken; a man forsworn would find scant mercy in any of the lands
of the Free Peoples. Do you understand that?"

Frolo took on a very serious air, obviously not feigned. "I understand, my
Lord."

"Very well," Carangil replied. "Let us kneel." He then clasped Frolo’s hands
between his own. "I, Carangil Anrohirion Dácilion of House Dácilion of
Gondor, do take this man, Frolo son of Karlo, as vassal, and swear by
Ilúvatar, the Valar of Aman, and the memory of Westernesse, to fulfil the
duties of liege lord, rewarding valor with honour, faithfulness with
friendship, faithlessness with death.

"Now, Frolo, follow me in your oath..."

"I, Frolo son of Karlo, do pledge fealty to Carangil Anrohirion Dácilion, and
pledge to deliver faithful and true service for as long as my liege lord shall
require. So do I swear by Ilúvatar, the Valar of Aman, and the memory of
Westernesse," Frolo said haltingly at Carangil’s prompting, then smiled
timidly up at the far taller man.

Unnoticed by most of the company, Berek slightly shook his head and
lowered his eyes. Making a child swear by Ilúvatar himself over a thing he
cannot understand...

"Well, young Frolo, our fates are bound now," Carangil said. He led Frolo to
his seat beside Kirdan and lowered his voice so as not to interfere with
Gailen, who proceeded to some other minor legal matters. "I should think
you already know Sir Kirdan. As his family has long served mine, so he now
serves me as squire. As you are now my page and ward, you will obey Sir
Kirdan as you do me." Carangil smiled to soften that blow. "We shall have a
great deal to talk about. Are you happy your uncle decided to take
Lieutenant Gailen’s offer of managing the inn?"

"Most definitely, my Lord," he exclaimed happily, then softened his voice

with a sheepish smile. "I’m so glad the Ancients loaned him enough money.
I don’t think he would’ve accepted money from anybody else, you know.
This gives him the opportunity to settle his sons. He’s aging, but still young
enough to make sure the inn runs well when he gives it to my cousins. Ah…
I suppose it is too late or too early for me to settle, now!"

Jiff piped up softly, "Frolo, are you having second thoughts regarding your
oath already? Or just thinking aloud?"

"N... no," Frolo stuttered, his newly gained confidence and pride vanishing
in a moment. "Oh, no! Of course not," he said with an anxious glance
towards his liege. "But… I think my cousins are lucky… but… adventure,
travel? How many times haven’t I dreamed of those…." He leaned away a
little, his face reddening, and said, "No, Sir, I surely would not… I… Sir…
Hir Carangil, I did not want to offend you…." He glanced around like a
fugitive until released by Carangil.

"No offence taken, Frolo, this has been a busy and stressful day for all of us.
When the Lieutenant adjourns the court, why don’t you go back home with
your family for tonight. You will need to take your leave from them, for
tomorrow we will continue our journey northward. And remember,
although this is your last evening at home, it is also your first day in service
to House Dácilion." The weight of Carangil’s whispered words showed
clearly in Frolo’s eyes, but it faded as his liege lord turned to Kirdan.
"Kirdan, can you see to the preparation for our departure as well as to the
proper outfitting of page Frolo? Mistress Hannah should be able to serve us
there once more. Dácilion black with my badge of four red stars on white
should do well for livery."

Nodding, Kirdan replied, "Yes, my Lord, I will take care of both. Frolo, I will
pick you up at your uncle’s house in the early morning, so you can help me
with the preparations and I can introduce you in the duties of your
position."

"Before you go, youngster," Berek’s whisper buzzed like a bumblebee, "I
have a… hmmm… gift for you." He presented the carved scene he had made
the previous night. "Welcome to your new life, but let this be a reminder of
crime, punishment, and mercy."
Frolo accepted the gift with wide eyes and an uncertain "Thank you...
Master Berek," then left with his family.

After settling the last legal details, Lieutenant Gailen thanked the witnesses
and declared the trial of Frolo and the court session adjourned. He rose and
approached the travelers as they bid farewell to the Dunmen. "Gentlemen, I
suppose you will be leaving us soon, but if would care to join me for a
farewell lunch, I would value your company."

So once more the companions enjoyed the simple but fair food of a
Dúnadan officer, except perhaps Jiff, who missed the sweet pastries of the
Blue Oak. They chatted of travel plans, comparisons of life in the three
remaining Dúnadan realms, and family adventures. As the meal ended,
Gailen said, "I hope, then, your memories of Metraith will be more fair than
foul."

"I think they will, friend Gailen," Carangil smiled warmly. "I think we took
far more from the thieves of Metraith than they did from us! After all, we
recovered everything Berek and Elenárion had lost and we all made new
friends!"

"To your travels, then," Gailen raised his goblet. "May you find fair weather
and good fortune, and return as Fate allows. To luck and life!"

"To luck and life!" they replied to the clinking of goblets, and took their
leave. The road north was calling….