Poison in the Citadel by Kathryn Ramage

The ladies of the court had already assembled by the time Frodo and Merry entered the Queen's boudoir, but Arwen had not arrived. Eowyn introduced Frodo to Dame Thressildis, a large and motherly woman who was in charge of the maids-in-waiting, and presented him to the other ladies.

The Queen's boudoir was near the top of the great hall in one of the turrets. It was in part a work room, for a loom stood in one angled corner, and there were a number of embroidery frames and tables with pieces of tapestry spread out on them around the room. From the scenes on the sections Frodo examined, he could see that the work commemorated the fall of Mordor and the return of Gondor's king. The three main panels told the tale: On one, Aragorn and his army confronted Sauron's legions of orcs at the Black Gate; on another, the Oliphaunts that besieged Minas Tirith were driven back by the Riders of Rohan, and the tiny figures of the Stewart's Lady and her halfling companion could be seen dispatching the Witch King and his monstrous, winged mount; on the largest panel, Mount Doom was depicted as crumbling into fiery ruin, while another tiny figure cast a golden ring into the pit--which was not quite as it had happened, but that was the way the story was told in Minas Tirith.

Once the pieces were sewn together, Eowyn explained, the finished tapestry would be hung in the throne room. All the ladies of the court were working on it. Tall, mullioned windows on three sides of the turret room gave them light for most of the day.

When Frodo stood on tip-toe to gaze out of the foremost windows, he could see the top of the white tree in the courtyard, which was just beginning to put forth new leaves, and out onto the dizzying view of fields and mountains beyond the city.

"It was not so pleasant a sight in the days of the Dark Lord, but it grows more green with every day," said Thressildis. "These rooms haven't been used in many a year, not since the death of Lady Finduilas."

"She was Faramir's mother," Eowyn added. "He speaks fondly of the days he spent here with her as a little boy."

"That's right, my lady," said Thressildis. "Faramir was his mother's favorite, and it fair broke his heart when the poor lady died. It was a sad day for all of us who remember it. The last light of the court went out with her passing, and the old Steward never smiled at anything afterwards. There hadn't been a Lady of the Citadel since Finduilas. But now we have two, since our young Steward has married you, my lady, and there is a King again, who's brought us a Queen." She turned and dropped into the deepest curtsey she could manage, as did all the other ladies present, as Arwen entered the room.

From Thressildis's remarks, Frodo inferred that there hadn't been much of a courtly life in Denethor's day. After the death of his wife, and as the danger from nearby Mordor had grown darker, the citadel had become entirely masculine and military. Now that the danger was past, the wives and daughters of the councilors were happy to have a place at court, and Ladies of the Citadel to serve.

Arwen bid them all to rise, welcomed the hobbits, and joined her ladies at their work. As she smiled and spoke with her attendants, the Queen seemed not so different from the other young women about her.

The ladies chattered cheerfully as they worked. By watching them and occasionally joining in their conversations, Frodo observed that they were not very different from the hobbit-ladies of his acquaintance, only much taller, and they wore thin-soled slippers on their feet. The matrons sat together and gossiped, and the maidens giggled and whispered like hobbit-misses. He might almost believe he was in the drawing-room of an oversized smial. There was only one conspicuous discrepancy.

"Is there no tea?" he asked Merry. This seemed very odd. Frodo couldn't imagine hobbits without a tea-table to gather around in a similar setting.

"They don't have the custom of afternoon tea here," Merry replied, "not the way we do in the Shire."

"Poor things! Perhaps we ought to introduce it?"

"What a good idea!" Merry grinned. "Shall I ask?"

As Merry proposed the idea of having tea parties to Arwen and the women seated around her, Frodo soon saw what his cousin meant about "having fun" if he were inclined to like women, for they obviously liked him. The older ladies doted on him as if he were a small child, and the young maidens flirted with him as shamelessly and harmlessly as he paid gallantries to them. They laughed at his jokes, and rumpled his curls, and even though he wasn't interested in girls, Merry obviously enjoyed their attention.

Frodo believed the ladies would have treated him the same way if they'd known him better, but his shy, reserved manners did not invite cuddles from strangers. Never-the-less, he blushed when he heard one girl whisper to another, "Have you ever seen such a darling little thing? He's just like a living doll!"

The ladies of Minas Tirith, Frodo also found, were as interested in mysteries as their hobbit counterparts. They all knew who he was, and why he'd been summoned to the city; several told him that they'd heard Merry speak of him as a marvelous investigator.

"The night of your arrival, Merry told us of your investigations, and how your cousins help you," said Eowyn. "Peony, Angelica... are all hobbit-ladies named after flowers?"

"Many are," said Frodo, "and some lads too. It's a common practice in the Shire."

"I can see why Merry is named as he is," giggled one of the younger maids. "He is so cheerful, and it suits him perfectly. But why are you called 'Frodo'? What does it mean?"

"Nothing at all," he admitted. "Some hobbit-names are plain nonsense." His answer only produced more giggles.

The ladies were also curious as to what he could do to find the poisoner who was terrorizing the courtiers as well as the city. They referred to the murders that had happened in the citadel in horrified whispers and some sorrow, for they had all known Carathir and Caradan.

Frodo was surprised to learn that the older ladies also knew Bregilde. Outside the Houses of Healing, the herbalist was best known as a midwife, for she was frequently called upon by mothers-to-be to provide remedies to ease morning sickness and other ailments related to pregnancy.

"Has one of the ladies had a baby recently?" Frodo asked Thressildis. "Or is someone expecting?" If she had a patient here, Bregilde could easily go in and out of the citadel, bringing whatever potions she liked, and not rouse suspicion.

"Oh, we have our hopes..." Thressildis inclined her head in the direction of the Queen, "but I'm sorry to say there's no sign of a little prince yet. 'Tis Imadene, the wife of Councilor Hilabar. She is Mistress of the Wardrobe. No, she isn't here today. She has troubles in her early months. Bregilde always tended her before, and she's at a loss now the poor woman is dead to know who will deliver this baby for her when the time comes."

As the afternoon went on, more ladies came in, or those already present went away on errands, but the one Frodo had seen outside the council-chamber wasn't there. He was beginning to think she wouldn't come at all, when she did appear.

She was no longer veiled, but he recognized her immediately, for she wore a black gown as she had that day. He could see now that she was indeed young and rather pretty. It wasn't easy for him to judge the ages of Big Folk, since they seemed to reach maturity much earlier than hobbits, but Frodo thought she was probably in her middle-twenties. A hobbit of that age was a half-grown child; here, they were grown women and men.

She curtsied to Arwen and said, "Your pardon, my lady. I was delayed."

"I'm glad you've come, Tharya. We've felt your absence today," Arwen replied. "There is one who's been waiting to meet you." She turned to bring Frodo forward with a graceful gesture of one arm; the hobbit almost seemed to appear by magic within the sweep of the long, draped sleeve of her gown.

Tharya's eyes widened in surprise when she saw Frodo, but she said, "You- Why, you are the investigator the King has sent for."

"Yes, I am," Frodo answered, and introduced himself.

"Isn't he adorable?" one of the other maids-in-waiting said with a laugh, which made the tips of Frodo's ears turn pink. "Our Merry tells us he's twice as clever as any Man in the city. He'll find out who murdered poor Caradan and his father."

"I hope you will," Tharya said to Frodo. "Someone must put an end to this terrible thing, and what it's done to us all. The fear we live with, the awful suspicions. It's become unbearable. I am pleased you're here." These last words were spoken courteously, but with an undertone of nervousness that made Frodo doubt she meant it. She wasn't pleased to find him here.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Miss," he responded with equal courtesy. "But we've met already, haven't we?"

"Have we?"

"Downstairs, as a matter of fact, in this very hall. It was while I waited outside the Council chambers the day before yesterday-"

"No, I don't recall," Tharya said quickly. "You are mistaken--It must have been someone else. I think I would remember if I'd seen you before." She turned to the Queen. "I really must pray your forgiveness, my lady, but I can't remain today. My father requires me elsewhere."

Frodo was sure that this was only an excuse; the girl was obviously anxious to get away from him. After another deep curtsey, Tharya darted away.

"What an extraordinary thing!" said Dame Thressildis after Tharya had gone. "I've never seen her behave so strangely."

"She has been in a peculiar state lately," said another lady. "But I suppose she has her reasons, after all. These last weeks have not been happy for her, poor girl."

"Why does she wear black?" Frodo asked them. "In the Shire, it is the color of mourning." The ladies confirmed that black was also worn for mourning here. "Who does she mourn? Was she related to Carathir?"

"No, she wasn't," said Thressildis. "At least, not yet. She was betrothed to his son, Caradan."
You must login (register) to review.