The rain stopped by mid-afternoon and the sun made a brief appearance before it set, but Frodo remained in bed for the rest of the day. Between them, Merry and Gandalf kept so close a watch over him that Frodo was certain even Sam couldn't have been more diligent. Unfortunately, this enforced rest gave him plenty of time to think about Sam. Even though Merry offered to stay with him, Frodo refused. He wanted to be by himself. He slept badly that night, worse than he had been lately, and when he slept, he dreamt of Sam. He saw that scene in Bag End's kitchen again and again, and himself powerless to be a part of it.
When Beregond called for Frodo the next morning, the wizard gave the bleary-eyed hobbit a stern but concerned look and asked him if he felt well enough to carry on with his investigation today.
"I'm fine, Gandalf," Frodo answered. "I'm not ill. I was only a little upset, but I mustn't let it affect my work." Not only was finding this poisoner the most important thing he had to do, his work kept him from dwelling on his personal problems. "I'd like to talk to Councilor Larengar. I meant to yesterday, but never had the chance." He turned to Beregond. "Is it too late to see him this morning?"
"It is nearly the hour when the Council convenes," said Beregond. "If we are quick, you may catch him before he goes into the chamber."
Gandalf still looked concerned, but there was no time for an argument. Frodo seized his cloak, and he and Beregond hastened to the citadel. When they reached the council-chamber, the door was already closed. The Council was in session.
"They've only just started," said Beregond. "Do you want me to go in and summon Lord Larengar to speak to you? The King will certainly give him leave."
"No, thank you, Captain. I'd rather speak to him privately. The matter is rather confidential. I'll wait here 'til he comes out." Frodo climbed up to sit down on the marble bench nearest the chamber door. "Gandalf wants me to rest. I can do it here as easily as in my bedroom."
Beregond sat down to wait with him. They talked little, until a messenger who'd been searching for the captain found him. The boy gave Beregond a note sealed with a heavy wax stamp.
Beregond opened the note and read it, then glanced at the hobbit. "I have an errand that must take me into the city on your behalf," he told Frodo. "If it is successful, it will aid our investigation."
This cryptic announcement only piqued Frodo's curiosity. "Can I go with you?"
"No, not yet," the captain answered. "Arrangements must be made before I can bring you, but there is another difficulty. I have been charged not to leave you unattended, particularly after yesterday's incident. If I go for a short time, you won't fly away as you did yesterday, will you?"
"I'll be good," Frodo promised, smiling. "I'll be right here when you come back."
"I have your word then, and my lord Elessar will have my life if you should break it." Beregond left on his unexplained errand.
After these parting words, Frodo did not dare move from the bench for the next hour. That morning's council session was a short one, and the councilors began to emerge shortly after noon. When the door opened, Frodo slid off the bench on the side closest to the wall and hid behind a marble column, hoping that Aragorn and the members of the Council would not notice him as they passed.
Fortunately, Larengar was one of the last to leave. Frodo followed him; when he caught up, he took the sleeve of the councilor's robe in his hand, and tugged to draw Larengar's attention.
Larengar looked down, and looked surprised. "Why, Ringbearer! What brings you here? I heard you were taken ill yesterday."
"I came to talk to you," Frodo explained. "Will you answer a few questions, please? They're rather personal, but I think they may aid me."
"Yes, of course," Larengar answered, somewhat bemused but not at all wary at the request. "I said I would be happy to assist you, didn't I? Ask away." He sat down on another bench, farther along the corridor than the one Frodo had been sitting on.
"Thank you, Sir." In spite of the councilor's generous response, Frodo decided to tread carefully. Even without the shadow of suspicion, the subject was a delicate one. "What I want to know is," he began in a roundabout fashion, "are you likely to go into the taverns in the city?"
Larengar chuckled at the question. "Not so frequently as I was in my youth."
"What about the Steward's Arms?"
"Where poor Caradan was poisoned? Not in years."
"You aren't acquainted with the family there? The present keeper is a jolly, generous Man, a widower with one daughter who serves as barmaid. Ilsethe is her name. She's a pretty girl, about the same age as your own daughter."
Now Larengar stared at him and looked less amused by the hobbit's questioning. "No, I don't know them. I've never seen them."
Frodo changed tactics to a more direct attack. "I've been told that you quarreled with your friend Carathir shortly before his death."
Larengar's large, round and genial face suddenly went red with indignation, and he sprang to his feet, forcing Frodo to step back. "Who told you such a lie?" he demanded. "No, you needn't answer. I can guess who it was--Imatibin, that sly, insidious creature!"
"Then there was no quarrel?" Frodo stood his ground, staring up at the Man with head tilting back so far that he almost lost his balance.
"A difference of opinion between us, that's all. Although it comes as no surprise to me that certain persons have found it advantageous to make more of it than there was to divert suspicion from themselves."
"Will you tell me what this 'difference of opinion' was about?"
Larengar waved a dismissive hand. "After so many weeks, I'm afraid I can't recall the details."
"Was it about Caradan?" Frodo pursued.
Larengar didn't answer, only stared down at him.
"I suspect that it was," said Frodo. "You may not have been to the Steward's Arms in years, and never saw the alekeeper's daughter--but perhaps you've heard gossip about her? Perhaps someone else who visits the tavern noticed that the bracelet she wears is very like one of a pair that Lady Rainelde, Caradan's mother, used to have? Perhaps they came and told you about it?"
"What are you suggesting?"
"No more than I say: the gossip reached your ears. Since Caradan was betrothed to your daughter, you went to his father to have him put a stop to it. Is that what happened? What did Carathir have to say about it? It isn't an accusation, sir. I only want to know the truth."
Larengar continued to stare at him, then turned to pace up and down the hallway. At last, he made up his mind and admitted, "Carathir refused to believe it. I hadn't the proof of my own eyes, only the tales that had come to my ears. That Caradan should spurn my Tharya for a barmaid! We'd both wondered why the boy hadn't given Tharya the first bracelet upon their betrothal, as is the custom of their family. I had thought it merely an oversight before I heard of this girl. I told Carathir we had only to go to the Steward's Arms, see her wearing his late wife's bracelet, and ask her for ourselves how she came by it." He whirled to Frodo. "It is true, isn't it?"
"Yes, it was so," Frodo confirmed. "I've spoken to her and had the story from her own lips... and from others. Caradan gave the girl his mother's pledge bracelet, and his promise with it." Larengar made a furious snorting sound, and Frodo asked him, "Didn't you and Carathir go to see for yourselves?"
"No, he refused to come with me. He did agree at the end to ask his son for the truth, but he died before he could do so."
"Did you ever speak to Caradan about it?"
"No," said the councilor. "We were all so shocked and grieved by Carathir's death, it drove the thought of it from my mind. The boy--foolish, reckless boy!--was also dead before I could look further into the matter."
"What would you have done if Caradan refused to abandon the girl?" Frodo continued with his questioning. "Would you have had Tharya break her betrothal vow to him?"
Larengar snorted furiously again and said, "If you, or Imatibin, suggest that I would see my friend Carathir and his son dead over this, then you are wrong. That it would be a cleft between us, I do not deny. I would do all I could to see Caradan remember his pledge to Tharya and all that has been between our two families, to put aside his dalliances and wed. But if he refused, I would not see my child bound to a faithless husband. Better the break come before their wedding than after." He sighed, and began to calm down. "Well, that's all ended now. My friend has gone, and my daughter will not marry his son. That line has ended now, and this last difference must always lie upon my memory of our long friendship."
"What about Cirandil?" said Frodo. "He is the last of that line. Would you object to him as a husband for Lady Tharya?"
"Cirandil? I had not thought of it before. He was only Carathir's ward and nephew. But now..?" Larengar began to consider the idea, and seemed to find it a good one. "Yes, you're right, Ringbearer. He's no longer an ordinary guardsman now, is he? If he's innocent of his uncle's death--and I believe he is--then he'd be as good a match for my daughter as Caradan. I'll speak to Tharya about it after a suitable time for mourning has passed."
Frodo smiled. If Cirandil and Tharya were indeed innocent, then he had done a good deed for them. Larengar would not stand in the way of their happiness, but would encourage it.
But then a darker thought rose in his mind: had they planned for it to come out this way?
After Larengar left, Frodo was about to return to his seat near the council-chamber door, when he realized that he was not alone. The rest of the councilors had gone long ago, but Hilabar was standing at the far end of the corridor.
"I meant to have words with Larengar," the young councilor said as he came closer, "and when he did not come out of the hall, I grew curious as to what detained him."
"Have you spoken to him?" asked Frodo.
"No. Our business is not urgent. I would much rather speak to you, Frodo, and find out what lies the old bear's been telling you. I know he's all but declared that either I or Imatibin must have something to do with Carathir's death, since we opposed him in the Council."
Frodo had to smile at these cross suspicions and accusations between the Council members. "He didn't speak of you at all," he answered. "Our conversation was on another subject entirely."
"But he has before, hasn't he?" Hilabar asked, and looked somewhat anxious.
Frodo nodded.
"Do you believe him?"
"I've found nothing to confirm his suspicions," Frodo replied noncommittally. "I must say, I wonder that he makes such statements against you, when Carathir was your kinsman by marriage and recommended you for the Council."
Hilabar smiled wryly. "Larengar would say that I repaid Carathir's patronage with vile ingratitude because I wouldn't follow his lead and support him in all matters before the Council. I am not in league with Imatibin--I don't even like Imatibin much. We share a belief in Gondor's future, no more. I was grateful to Carathir, but I couldn't pretend to agree with him when I had my own opinions on a subject. No Man of honor would expect it, or respect me if I did. A King's councilor is no one's pet dog! Surely you can understand that?"
Yes, Frodo could.
"Carathir was a dear man, but an old one. He didn't see that the old days were at an end. We are at the dawn of a new Age," Hilabar went on with growing enthusiasm. "There is a King in Gondor again, and much to do if we are to restore the realm to its former greatness. We might make it even greater than it was before."
"I've been told that you hope to be made keeper of the treasury?" Frodo asked. "Is that part of your plan?"
"If we are to rebuild, we must have funds. It was the one point on which Carathir always held back. He would not advise the King to authorize the release of more money than was absolutely necessary. But I say that the ruins of Osgiliath will not rise to their glory of old by magic, nor will the roads and ports grow again in the blighted lands as the flowers do. After Carathir's death, I'd hoped that if I were given his place, I might put the wealth that lies locked in the treasury vaults to use."
Aragorn had obviously not announced his decision yet, and Frodo decided not to say anything to disappoint the young councilor in advance. Hilabar's plans sounded worthwhile--in fact, this talk of roads and ports reminded Frodo of Merry--but there was something in his zeal to implement them that seemed a bit too enthusiastic. How far would Hilabar go to fulfil his vision of a restored Gondor?
Beregond returned while Hilabar was talking, and looked relieved to see that Frodo had not gone away in his absence.
At the sight of the captain's approaching, Hilabar rose to depart. "I'm glad we've had this talk, Frodo," he said. "It much relieves my mind."
"He is not the councilor I expected to see with you," Beregond said after Hilabar had gone. "Did you speak to Lord Larengar as well?"
"I did, and with some success. What about you, Captain? Was your errand successful?"
The captain nodded. "I've seen Broneron, and he's agreed to speak with you."
"Broneron?" Frodo repeated the name excitedly. "Is that who you went to see?"
"You asked me to arrange a meeting, and I've done so. Broneron will grant you a private interview at his house. I'll take you there now."
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