Poison in the Citadel by Kathryn Ramage

On the first sunny day when Frodo felt well enough to go out, he went riding with Eowyn and Merry, as they had arranged to do days before. Unless Bregilde had gone out to gather the plants herself rather than take them from the herbarium to brew her poisonous potion, Frodo thought it unlikely that anyone else had done so. But the furtherance of his investigation was not the primary reason he wanted to do this. After his recent illness, he was eager to be outside of the city for awhile. He'd been too long within stone walls. He was weary of feeling the hard, cold surfaces of cobblestones, marble and wood floors beneath his feet; it was a welcome relief to be among green and growing things again.

Merry still had the pony he had ridden from the Shire last year, and another pony had been obtained for Frodo. They trotted after Eowyn's Rohan-bred mare, which she kept at a slow pace for their sake, though Frodo thought she would have preferred to go tearing off at a hard gallop across the fields. The lady seemed as happy as the hobbits to be out of the city.

Eowyn wore a riding habit consisting of a long coat with slashed skirts to the knees and leather breeches tucked into tall boots. Frodo had rarely seen a woman in trousers before and it rather shocked him, but it must be her usual costume for riding, for Merry seemed to take it as a matter of course. He remembered what Di Took had said about trousers being easier to ride in; long skirts must be extremely cumbersome to wear while on horseback.

The days that followed the rain had been warm, and spring had begun in earnest. The countryside around Minas Tirith was freshly green and in flower--more green than Frodo remembered it being when he'd last been here three summers ago. Even the distant, dark Mountains of Shadow that bordered Mordor showed spots of fresh, living color. As Gandalf had observed at Isengard, the land was recovering from the evil that had blighted it. There was only one little patch of dead earth, which they passed on Pelennor field: it was the place where the monstrous flying beast Eowyn had slain was burned, then buried, and where she and Merry had destroyed the Witch King who'd ridden upon it. A brief look of sadness crossed both their faces as they looked upon it, for Theoden had also died here.

They rode along the mountains to the west of the city, eventually finding and following a path that wound into the little valleys between the foothills. Laurel trees grew everywhere in groves. Frodo thought he also saw a few rhododendrons, although it was too early for their distinctive flame-red blossoms to bloom.

"Be careful of the ponies," Eowyn cautioned. "They will eat the leaves if you let them. The taste is pleasant to them, but there is no cure once they swallow it. Few horses recover from a dinner of laurel."

"Will we find nightshade here?" asked Frodo.

"If there's any to be found, it'll be in such a place as this," Eowyn assured him.

"How do we know what to look for?" asked Merry.

"I've seen nightshade, potted in the herbarium," said Frodo. "The herb-master showed it to me when I first visited. I don't think I've ever seen it growing wild, but I'd recognize it if I saw it again." He acknowledged that his herb-lore was minimal, and that Merry knew even less than he did. Sam's knowledge of plants would have been invaluable today.

"I've seen nightshade growing wild," said Eowyn. "My old home lies near the foot of mountains such as these--the same mountains, but many miles away at the other end. The women of Edoras are as skilled in herb-craft as the healers of Minas Tirith, and I would go out with them to gather the healing plants." She smiled. "I never took much interest in such things when I was a girl. It was only after we were in the Houses of Healing--you were there for less a time than I was, Merry--that I've wished to learn. We will find it in shaded and wet places."

Once they were safely away from the laurels, Eowyn dismounted and tied her mare in a clearing cut by a stream that trickled out from between the rocks above. The hobbits also tied their ponies and left the path to follow the stream up into the hills. They clambered over boulders and down into grassy dells where little shrubs and bright spring flowers grew where the sunlight reached. The soft dirt and grass, even the warm stones, felt pleasant beneath their hands and feet, and they scrambled upwards, laughing and joking as if they were on a picnic. The lady followed, her thick-heeled boots making her less agile on the rocks than the hobbits' bare toes, but she was laughing too.

At last, they traced the spring to its source, a deep cleft in the hillside. They were in shade here at midday, and the rocks were cool to the touch. The water was icy. Thick beds of moss grew in the deepest cuts beside the stream, and beneath some tall ferns grew a cluster of dark little broad-leaved plants; the flowers were still in bud, but Frodo was sure that it was the same as the one the herb-master had shown him.

"Here!" he shouted to his companions. "It is, isn't it?"

Eowyn reached down to lift the dark leaves with her fingers. Three red berries grew beneath. "Yes, that's nightshade."

Frodo stood up and looked around. "How far are we from Minas Tirith?" he wondered. They hadn't ridden for very long, but the outcroppings of the mountains blocked the city from view.

"Not more than three or four miles," said Merry.

"An easy walk, even for an aged woman in good health?"

"That climb over the rocks might've been hard for an old lady, but there could be other places nearer the city."

"Dozens of these little streams cut down through the hills, and there are many places where nightshade can grow," Eowyn agreed.

"So it wouldn't have been difficult for anybody who knew their herb-lore and who wanted to make their own poison to come out collect the necessary plants," said Frodo. "They needn't have gone far."




As they rode up through the streets of Minas Tirith, Frodo saw that the city was already being decorated with colorful banners in preparation for the upcoming New Year's celebration, and he felt a sudden, sickening pang in the pit of his stomach. The approaching date filled him with dread.

Merry saw that he had gone pale, and offered to take his pony back to the citadel stables for him; he ought to go directly home and rest. Frodo dismounted before the entrance to the tunnel, gave the pony's reins to his cousin, and bid farewell to Eowyn, thanking her for her help. As they rode on, he went into Gandalf's house, intending to lie down until Merry's return.

He had only been in the house a few minutes, when there was a knock on the front door. Frodo went to answer it, and found that Beregond had come to see him. "heard that you were up and about today," the captain explained.

"All my nursemaids have finally agreed that I might get out of bed and go outdoors," Frodo replied.

"And are you well enough to continue our investigation, little one?"

The eager tone in Beregond's question made Frodo smile. "I'm ready to go on," he answered, "though not at so urgent a pace as we went before. Merry and Gandalf will insist that I rest this afternoon, but we can begin tomorrow. Shall we start where we left off? At the moment when I fell ill, we were talking about the expelled councilors."

"Yes, I recall. I have not been idle during your illness, Frodo. I've made a list of the names of the Men involved." Beregond took a slip of paper from his tunic and gave it to the hobbit.

"Have you? How splendid!" Frodo read the list of names: Falnadil, Waldimir, Pellagris, Gefetibin, Duradlond, Osiric, and the drunkard Garamont.

"They were not all members of the Council, but they stood beside Denethor in his last days above all, and have not been permitted to set foot in the citadel since the King's coming," Beregond explained. "I've spoken to one or two. You may speak to them as well if you like, but I am satisfied that if Broneron seeks revenge, they want no part in it. As they are in disgrace, I did not need to be discreet in questioning them."

"Which ones did you talk to?" Frodo asked. "I think I may pass over them, and go on the next name on your list."

"I spoke to Garamont and Pellagris. Falnadil is next."
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