Chapter Text
Halben went to the Prince Steward’s rooms as soon as he got into Minas Tirith. He saluted Faramir. “Greeting, Prince. Your message said that we are needed to protect a diplomat?”
The Prince bade him sit in the comfortable seats in front of the fire, and a clerk brought in Halben’s favoured peppermint tea.
“Yes,” said the Prince, taking a sip of his own black tea, the rings on his fingers glinting. “Lord Thorongil, Third Trade Attache to Gondor’s Embassy to Harad. Assassins got into the Citadel yesterday. They killed Old Amarchon in the Archives, and attempted to kill Thorongil too.”
Halben whistled. “Assassins? Where were they from?”
“Idis said they were clad in the typical garb of Haradric assassins,” said the Prince.
“How did Lady Idis see them?”
“She rescued Lord Thorongil from them,” said the Prince. “She saw them follow him, and alerted him.”
“She killed them?”
“She did consider whether she could take on two or three assassins at once—and fortunately decided against it,” sighed the Prince. “Instead she took Thorongil up that back passageway and barred it, and they escaped into the upper levels of the Citadel.”
“She has developed sense,” said Halben.
“I do not know whether I would go that far.” The Prince paused and frowned. “She wants to meet this Thorongil. Today.”
Halben blinked. “She wants to meet him? Why?”
The Prince shook his head, and sighed again. “I believe he beat her in the public service test.”
Halben laughed. “Did anyone else beat her in public service test?”
“No.” The Prince smiled proudly. “She got the second highest result in the past ten years.”
“Ah, she’ll be spitting mad at this fellow then!”
“Hmm. Not quite.” The Prince steepled his fingers, but did not elaborate.
“So we go down to the Foreign Office and follow this clever fellow about?” said Halben, after a mystified pause.
The Prince nodded, then handed him a piece of paper. “Also set a Ranger outside the share house where Lord Thorongil lives, please. This describes what he looks like and where he lives. Keep note of any strange people you see.”
“Need we suspect Thorongil himself?” said Halben
“Not at all. I have no suspicions regarding him.”
Halben stood and saluted. “Very good, Prince. I’ll report to you daily.”
Then he went down to his men, explained the situation, and told Livon to watch the house. Ambon accompanied Halben up to the Foreign Office.
“Apparently he has reddish hair, is of medium height, and has fine features,” said Halben, reading from the paper. “Sometimes wears spectacles when reading, and speaks Haradric, Sindarin, Khandian and Westron.”
“Ah, from Lossarnach then,” said Ambon. “Why did the assassins attack him?”
“They don’t know. Lady Idis thinks it’s something to do with a report on café beans.”
“Idis? What’s she got to do with this?” Ambon asked.
“Everything. She saved the man from assassins after seeing them follow him in the Archives. Lucky chance for this fellow, no?”
They spoke to the Guards outside the Foreign Office. “Did you see any assassins yesterday?” said Halben.
One of the Guards sighed. “Not you too! Everyone has Haradric assassins on the brain. The two men on guard here yesterday saw no one unusual: it was just the usual diplomats, messengers and clerks.”
“Who else has been asking about assassins?” said Ambon.
“Captain Rador,” said the Guard. “He’s on the rampage, looking at windows and so forth, wondering how these assassins got in.”
“What think you of Lord Thorongil, the man they attacked?” said Halben.
The other Guard shrugged. “I have no idea why Haradric assassins might want to kill him. Very polite, pleasant fellow, in a vague way.”
“Thanks, men, and let us know if you see anything odd,” said Halben. “We’ll do likewise for you.”
“Will do,” said the Guards.
A little time before the third bell, a unshaven red-headed man with ruffled hair emerged from the Harad office, and Halben nudged Ambon. “That’s our man.”
“Looks like he slept in a gutter, still wearing his suit,” said Ambon. “Where’s he going?”
“Don’t know, but we’ll have to follow him,” said Halben.
They followed him out. Although he was clearly not Ranger-trained—his footsteps were far too loud—to Halben’s interest, Thorongil picked up that they were following him sooner than most did. He halted and pretended to look at the flags above the Citadel, and Halben and Ambon were forced to halt too.
“Blast him,” said Ambon.
“He’s aware of us,” said Halben. “I wonder what he will do?”
Thorongil turned and gave them a long suspicious look, then headed down the hill, and they followed him. About halfway down the hill, Thorongil tried to lose them. There was something rather fox-like about his look, and Halben decided that his features suited him.
“Hah,” said Ambon, leaping over a wall. “I guess it’s more interesting when they try to lose you!”
“Except the Prince will have our hides if he gets killed by assassins as a result,” grumbled Halben, as he scrambled over the wall, and they picked him up again.
Thorongil turned again and eyed them suspiciously, his hand on his sword hilt, then kept on going down the hill.
“Ah, Army trained from that stance,” said Ambon.
“Definitely,” said Halben. “I suppose we’ll have to introduce ourselves if he attacks us. Prince didn’t say anything about us telling him we’re following him.”
“We’ll have to ask the Prince if we can, after this shift,” said Ambon.
They stood out the front of Thorongil’s shabby share house. After a short moment, they saw Thorongil and another man come to the second floor window to peer at them.
Halben waved at them, and the two men looking down from the window had a serious conversation, and then backed away the window.
Livon popped out of the bushes in the house across the road and vaulted over the fence. “The other fellow at the window lives there too,” he said. “House mate. Came in just before, looking tired as hell. Is the one you were following our man?”
“Yes,” said Halben. “Tried to lose us once and contemplated attacking us.”
“Huh,” said Livon. “Has he ever considered a career in the Rangers, I wonder?”
“His footsteps are too loud,” said Ambon.
“We could teach him to walk more silently,” said Halben. “If the Prince allowed it.”
“We have to get the Prince’s agreement to tell him who we are first,” said Livon. “Anyway, I’m going back to my place. Tell me what happens later.”
Thorongil emerged, looking like a different man: shaven, hair neatly combed, and wearing a fancy but not entirely-fitting suit. Halben thought the suit was second-hand. Thorongil gave Ambon and Halben a long look, then went up the hill.
“Interesting,” Ambon said. “He looks dapper and handsome now. All dressed up. Who’s he meeting? His lady love?”
“Prince said something about him meeting Idis—” Halben stopped and stared at Ambon.
Ambon grinned. “No, really? Has he seen her daggers yet?”
“No idea!” Halben grinned back. “This might be interesting.”
They waited a decent interval while Thorongil had an argument with the waiter at the front, then went in after him. The Head Waiter looked at them disdainfully. “And who are you? I suppose you do not have a booking?”
“Lord Halben and Lord Ambon of the Ithilien Rangers, on the Prince of Ithilien’s business.” Halben scanned the room to see if Thorongil was indeed meeting Idis. Then he gasped as he spotted her.
“Well I never,” said Ambon. “She’s wearing a dress. Haradric silk?”
“We’ll sit on the stools at the front,” said Halben, Ambon nodding agreement.
The waiter sighed and glanced at Idis too. “Very well. What café do you like?”
“None at all,” said Halben, and the waiter sniffed.
“We like peppermint tea, though,” said Ambon.
The waiter stalked off, and Ambon and Halben settled on their stools and watched Thorongil approach Idis. Thorongil bowed elegantly and somewhat hesitantly, as if he was meeting the King.
“Haha!” said Ambon, speaking in their Ithilien Sindarin dialect. “She’s waving a butter knife at him. That’s our girl.”
“He doesn’t seem upset by the knife. That’s a mark in his favour?”
“I don’t think they’re courting.” Ambon sounded sad. “There’s a certain awkwardness to this meeting, don’t you think—?”
“Did you see Captain Rador and Lieutenant Barthon over there?” said Halben, and nodded to them. “Watched on all sides. Wonder if they suspect our man, even if the Prince doesn’t?”
“‘Course I saw them.” Ambon scanned the room, then nudged Halben. “Southron incoming.”
Halben tensed. “O yes, although he’s dressed in Western fashion.”
They watched the Southron as he was led to a table not too far from their own. To their interest, the Southron turned around to watch Idis and Thorongil too. Captain Rador acknowledged the Southron, but the Southron ignored him.
“Follow our Southron out,” said Halben in a low voice.
“Aye,” said Ambon.
A waiter came with their peppermint tea, and Halben sipped it as they continued watching the awkward conversation between the couple. “I think you’re wrong, Ambon. I think our man and Idis are interested in one another.”
Ambon narrowed his eyes. “Huh. Our man just blushed. You may be right.”
“I don’t want to get too excited, but apparently he’s the only one who beat her in the public service exams in the last ten years.”
“Hah, she’s picking a fight with the horrible waiter. I hope he never recovers.”
Idis exclaimed loudly enough for them to hear, “Come Thor! We are leaving!”
“Follow the Southron,” muttered Halben, rising.
“I know,” said Ambon, standing at the same time, and crossing his arms.
Halben trailed Thorongil as Idis drew him back down the hill, holding onto his arm in a firm manner. Idis’s attitude was proprietary, although Thorongil withdrew his arm from Idis’s and stared at her at one point. The couple continued down the hill in silence, no longer arm in arm, while Halben wondered what Idis had said. She had a tendency to be direct, which was sometimes hilarious, but also, he reflected, sadly, sometimes to her detriment.
At the bottom of the hill, he saw Livon was now standing against the fence, and joined him there.
Meanwhile Thorongil bowed to Idis in a courtly manner, although less formally than previously. “Farewell Lady Idis. Thank you for the interesting experience at the Salon. It was a pleasure meeting you, and I hope I shall see you around the Citadel again one day.”
Idis looked down her nose at him and frowned. “I will require your presence for visits to other Salons, you realise, my Lord?”
Halben tried not to wince.
Thorongil’s mouth dropped open. “Can you not find someone else more appropriate than me to accompany you?” he said, when he recovered.
“My father bade you find out what is happening. Will you shirk from your duty?”
“No.” Thorongil put his chin up.
“Good, then,” Idis said, and strode away, while Thorongil stared after her for a long moment, blinking. Then Thorongil turned looked directly at Halben and Livon, and made a confused face, and spread his hands.
Halben felt that Thorongil could do with some encouragement, so he smiled warmly at him.
Thorongil went back into his house.
“What, by the Valar, is that all about?” said Livon. “Why were they dressed like they were going to a soirée together? And that was Idis, wasn’t it, wearing a fancy silk dress, with her hair braided? I didn’t hallucinate that?”
“Ambon and I think she’s trying to court him,” said Halben.
Livon stared at Halben. “No! Really? So—she spoke to him?”
“At reasonable length, and they had café together.”
Livon clapped and beamed. “Well, well, well!” Then he paused. “Does he know about m’Lady’s daggers?”
“We don’t know, but she waved a butter knife at him in a threatening manner, and he didn’t seem put off.”
“It’s unfortunate that she was commanding towards him at the end there.”
“Aye, ‘twasn’t a good strategy.” Halben sighed. “No wonder he looked confused.”
Ambon came jogging down the hill. “Our Southron went into the Embassy for Harad in Gondor. He’ll bear further investigation. Also—how did they go?”
Halben waggled his hand back and forth. “So-so. She said something to him halfway down the hill which made him pull his arm away and stare at her. Then they went all quiet.”
“She gave him a Steward glare at the end,” said Livon. “He didn’t quail; I suppose that’s something. She told him that the Prince commanded him to keep investigating with her.”
Ambon chuckled. “I wonder if that’s true or not?”
“We’ll have to ask him,” said Halben.
“So what odds?” said Livon.
“Odds?” Halben was mystified.
“That she’ll catch him and wed him within the next twelve months!” Livon tsked and shook his head. “She likes a chase. I think he’ll give her one, no?”
Ambon and Halben looked at each other and Ambon grimaced. “So far—better than nothing—certainly better than previous prospects, because at least she’s spoken to him—but not that high. Let’s say 300 to 1?”
“300 to 1 it is,” said Halben. “It’s not impossible. But—I think he was somewhat confused and worried by her.”
“Poor Lady Idis,” said Livon, sadly. “She’s a sweetheart, really, once you get used to the daggers and get her to unthaw a little. Always asks me how the wife and children are, always has little gifts for everyone for the Winter Festival and so forth—”
Then they quieted as Thorongil emerged, dressed in a normal suit again, looking glum. He waved at them. “I’m going back up to work.”
“All good m’Lord,” said Halben.
They followed him back up the hill and stood outside the office. Maldir and young Tindor came and relieved them.
“300 to 1,” Halben told them.
“What?” said Maldir.
“That Lady Idis will catch this young man and wed him in the next twelve months,” said Livon.
“Is that a prospect?” said Tindor, with interest.
Halben shrugged. “Who knows. But they met just before at a Salon, and they were both dressed up as if for a soirée, and blushed at each other. Anyway, I’d better go tell the Prince about the Southron.”
“See you tomorrow,” said Livon.
Halben ambled down to the Prince’s chambers, and was swiftly let in. “How is the surveillance going?” said the Prince.
“The Lady and Thorongil met for café at a Salon. There was a Haradrim there, sitting in plain sight, dressed in Westron clothing. Looked about thirty years of age, pale skin for a Haradrim, short-cropped beard, blue eyes. Ambon followed him back to the Embassy of Harad building.”
The Prince’s gaze sharpened. “Ah. Darius Khan, I suspect. Thorongil’s counterpart in the Embassy or Harad. He’s a brother of the Empress Mother, as it happens, although that’s not well known.”
“Is he a danger?” said Halben.
“Apart from the fact that we suspect he had a hand in the convenient death of the previous Emperor—along with everyone else in his family, other than my cousin’s wife—no, we’re not currently concerned by him,” said the Prince. “He’s a spy, of course—but not an assassin, as far as we know.”
“Should we follow him too?” said Halben.
“I’ll get someone else to follow him.” The Prince rubbed his chin. “Thorongil is ex-Military Intelligence. I am somewhat concerned by this aspect, although he is not currently active in any current capacity.”
“Hah!” Halben narrowed his eyes at the Prince. “‘Twould have been good to know that, Prince. He realised we were tailing him very quickly and tried to drop us, and we had to chase him over a wall.”
“Good practice for you.” The Prince smiled.
“He’s decided we’re not a threat. He waved at us and said he was going back to the office, just before.”
“Idis has probably told him of you,” said the Prince. “She’s quite … concerned … for him.”
Halben snorted. “She told him that you’d commanded him to meet with her again.”
The Prince grimaced. “I did not say that precisely. I asked him to ascertain if there was a problem with the Haradric café bean market.” He shook his head. “I suspect she has justified this statement to herself by arguing that it is necessary to meet again to ascertain if there is such a problem.”
Halben would have loved to have asked if Idis was as keen on Thorongil as they all thought, but the Prince wasn’t the kind of a man who invited those kinds of conversations. So he saluted the Prince and stopped off at Lady Idis’s office to see what she said, but she was not in.