"That didn't go very well," Merry said as they were leaving the great hall at dusk. A steep, circular stairwell in the corner tower led directly down from the turret rooms to a side-door on the eastern side of the hall. The last of the fading light came in through tall, narrow slits of windows, and the hobbits each kept one hand on the outer wall as they hopped down from step to step.
"Even if I didn't get to speak to Tharya as I would've liked, it was a good afternoon's work. I learned a few interesting things," Frodo replied. "I know that Tharya was betrothed to Caradan." He had guessed as much from her mourning garments, but his guess was now confirmed. He'd also observed that Tharya was not wearing a bracelet to match the one he had seen in Caradan's quarters.
"I could've told you that, Frodo."
"But you didn't!"
"You didn't ask me. Besides, I thought you had something particular to ask her about him," Merry retorted. They reached the bottom of the stairs; standing on the last step, Merry seized the handle with both hands and pulled with all his might to try and open the heavy door.
"It wasn't Caradan I was most interested in," said Frodo. "Tell me, Merry--between your flirtations with every other pretty young lady in the room, did you have a chance to ask Lady Eowyn about my going out riding with you?"
His cousin laughed. "Yes, I did. She said she'd be delighted, whenever you want to go. If we can't get a pony for you, you can ride with her. Now that's a great honor. I'm rather jealous."
With Frodo's help, Merry pulled the door open a crack, enough for a hobbit or two to slip through. Outside, the evening was clear, still and quiet. Frodo could just glimpse the corner of the vast courtyard; torches lit above the entrance to the tunnel that led down to the sixth level of the city cast a flickering, yellow light over the stone pavement, but the space between the great hall and the guards' hall was in darkness. At first, Frodo thought that there was no one nearer than the guards on duty in the courtyard--then he realized that two figures stood in the long shadows by the guards' hall.
Before Merry could go out, Frodo grabbed his cousin by the arm to pull him back. "Ssh!" he hissed.
By peeking through the gap made by the slightly open door, they could see Tharya standing with a Man in guard's uniform. His face was in shadow, but Frodo could guess who it was. The pair were talking together softly, urgently. As she turned to go, the guardsman stepped out of the shadows and into the torch-light. It was Cirandil.
"Have a care, Tharya," he called after her in a voice loud enough for the hobbits to hear, "or you'll be suspected too. I don't want you involved in this. No breath of scandal should touch you. Be wary of that little investigator. It would be a mistake to underestimate the halflings. They may look like children, but they are not. If the King and Faramir and even the wizard Mithrandir think so highly of this little one, then there must be good reason."
"He means you," Merry hissed near Frodo's ear, although Frodo had already deduced that for himself and waved for his cousin to be silent.
"I have no worries for myself, Cir," answered Tharya. "My only fear is for you."
The pair stood silently for a moment, gazing into each other's eyes. Tharya lifted one hand and placed it lightly on Cirandil's chest, then she whirled and came to the door they were hiding behind; she shoved it open, pushing them back into the angle of the wall behind, and went up the stairs. The hem of her long skirts brushed close to the hobbits as she swept past, but she did not see them. They waited until Cirandil had gone too before they emerged.
"Is that what you wanted to ask her about?" asked Merry.
Frodo nodded, though he had no need to ask now. The look in the young couple's eyes had told him everything. He thought he might have been mistaken in those few seconds when he'd seen Tharya with Cirandil that first time; now, he was sure he was right. He knew very well how people in love looked at each other.
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