Prologue
Minas Tirith had seen murders before. With so many people living in such close quarters in the enormous, seven-leveled city, tensions could run high, tempers flair, and passions boil over. A drunken brawl in a tavern. A quarrel between a husband and wife. An attempted robbery gone wrong. A knife drawn, hands around a neck, or a blow struck too hard in anger. Such incidents were not unfamiliar. Fortunately, they did not happen very often, and the murderer was usually obvious to determine and easy to apprehend within the city walls. Justice was swiftly seen.
But these murders were different. A councilor found dead in his bed-chambers. A citadel guard fallen after a night's carousing with his fellows. These murders were not committed in the heat of anger, but through cool and deliberate poisoning. The killer struck unseen and the dead body was found afterwards with no sign of who could have done it.
King Aragorn was deeply distressed. This was not what he had envisioned, so early in his reign. This was meant to be a new and glorious Age, with all evil banished. How could his own people be killing each other in this insidious way within his own city, in the very heart of the citadel? These deaths were alarming to all his subjects--and, worst of all, disturbing to his councilors, courtiers, and the citadel Guard, who knew the two dead men best. He was beginning to see doubt and mistrust rising among them.
He was alone in his council chambers, contemplating this disquieting question, when a page ventured in and said. "I pray I do not disturb you, my lord. The halfling asks to see you."
At this news, Aragorn's expression brightened; the distraction was welcome. "Show him in, by all means."
The page went out, leaving the door open, and returned a minute later with Merry at his side.
Aragorn rose from his seat at the head of the council table and came forward to welcome his visitor. "What may I do for you, Merry? You have a petition to make?" Since Merry had arrived in Minas Tirith last autumn, he had become a sort of ambassador for the Shire; they'd had a number of discussions about suitable ways for the King to aid his hobbit subjects.
"No, Strider," Merry answered, leaving the page wide-eyed at his informality. "I've no requests today. I have a proposal. I've heard the news about these deaths in the citadel. Gandalf's told me that you have no idea who could be doing this?"
"The murderer has left no sign of whom he might be. The captain of the Guard is in charge of the investigation, but he confesses he is lost."
"What you need is an expert investigator. I'd like to recommend one I know, who lives in the Shire." Merry plunged on: "He's quite good at this sort of thing. He's had a great success with investigating mysteries, even some murders. You know he's very clever and resourceful. The only difficulty is his health, which might not allow him to come all the way to Minas Tirith again."
Aragorn followed this stream of fast-flowing, enthusiastic words; when Merry paused to catch his breath, he smiled in understanding. "Again? You mean Frodo?"
"Of course!" Merry grinned. "Do you think we could send for him? If Frodo was here, he'd solve your murders in a trice!"
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Poison in the Citadel by Kathryn Ramage
Story notes: This story takes place three years after the fall of Mordor, in 1422 (S.R.), or in 3022 of the Third Age.
Special Thanks: To Karen, for saying about a year ago, "Hey, you could set a story in Minas Tirith," and starting me off on this idea. Also for giving me feedback on this story while I was writing it.
June 2006
The Frodo Investigates! series
