While he'd recovered from his worst day, Merry had brought him news from the citadel. Frodo knew that Aragorn had received Gefetibin in the royal chambers, and had a private talk with Imatibin that left the councilor blanched and looking like a whipped dog, but no one knew what the King had said to either brother. While the story of the misappropriated gold had not yet become an open scandal, the whispers had grown louder of late. The treasury account books had been surrendered by Gathin at the King's orders, and Faramir was discreetly looking for skilled mathematicians to examine them.
Beregond and his Men were still out in the wilds of Ithilien, and other members of the guard stationed beyond the city had been called to join in the search. Messages were sent back to the King every day to report that Cirandil had not been found. According to Merry, even Faramir had given up hope now that the young Man been missing for over a week.
After breakfast, the hobbits went up to the citadel. It was still early, and the Council had not yet convened. While Merry went to find Eowyn in her chambers, Frodo went to the royal apartments in hopes of catching the King before Aragorn had gone downstairs. As he crossed the gallery that led to the royal chambers, he saw he was not the only person to seek an audience with the King that morning. Councilor Grangirtan was just leaving. He was a huge Man, like Larengar, but some years younger and his hair iron-gray rather than white. As he met the hobbit, he stopped to say, "Good morning, little one."
"Good morning!" If Aragorn had summoned Grangirtan, Frodo could easily guess why. "You've been talking to the King about the treasury, haven't you?"
Grangirtan looked surprised. "Yes. However did you find it out so soon?"
"He told me that he meant to appoint you in Carathir's place."
"Did he?" The councilor seemed pleased, and oddly sad, to hear this. "I'm afraid that may not be so, now."
Frodo realized he had misunderstood. "Why? What's happened?"
"I might as well tell you all. Lord Elessar will undoubtedly tell you himself, since you were the one to bring the matter to his attention in the first place and ought to know how it has been resolved." Grangirtan looked down at the tiny hobbit standing before him, and announced, "I've gone to the King and explained that he will find no money missing from the treasury. We put it back weeks ago--Larengar, Lady Thressildis, and I--soon after Carathir's death. Hilabar and his lady knew nothing of it. We used our own money to replace what had been taken, and Gathin locked it away in the vaults as if it had always been there. We'd hoped that would be the end of it, and Carathir's reputation would be preserved. There was no proof of misconduct, and the rumors were dying down, until that fool Imatibin dug them up again. Now that the rumors have reached the King's ears, he must hear the truth."
"Then Carathir did take the gold," said Frodo. "But why didn't he return it himself?"
"He didn't have it. He had no money left, you see, after the war. Carathir impoverished himself to ensure the city's defenses, and when the last of his own money had gone, he borrowed the city's gold. His nephew Cirandil, if he is not a murderer, will inherit very little beyond the family house and a few heirlooms. Carathir lived in the citadel because he couldn't afford to keep up his home."
"But the King would have reimbursed him for his losses," Frodo pointed out. "He offered to repay you all, and Carathir refused."
"Carathir was a proud man. Too proud," Grangirtan answered. "He would take no money from his friends while he lived, nor would he take it from the King."
"He could have at least put back what he'd taken."
The councilor gave him a small smile. "And where would that money have come from?"
"The treasury- oh." Frodo understood.
"You see, it would hardly be repayment--only a redistribution of funds. When I last spoke to Carathir, he said he would rather wait for the blow to fall, as it inevitably must. When he was discovered dead, I admit I thought he'd committed suicide to avoid the disgrace, though I did not like to say so. But if he did, how did his son and the healer come to die in the same way?"
"Do you think Cirandil murdered them, sir?" Frodo asked him.
"I've known that young man from his infancy, and don't like to believe it's true," Grangirtan replied, "but what other answer is there? You were summoned by the King to find the truth. Have you?"
"No," Frodo admitted, "not yet."
After Grangirtan had gone, Frodo was about to go into the royal chambers to find out what Aragorn meant to do about this amazing confession, when there was a clatter of boots coming up the tower stairwell. A moment later, Beregond appeared, dirty and dust-covered, so long unshaven that the straw-colored stubble on his jaw had nearly grown into a beard. His eyes brightened at the sight of hobbit. "Frodo, it's good you're here," he said in little gasps, short of breath from his run up the stairs. "I bring news at last."
"You've found Cirandil?"
Beregond nodded. "He was captured last night, in Ithilien. He surrendered to the guardsmen who found him without a struggle. We've brought him back to the city, and he's being kept prisoner in the old garrison hall on the lowest level."
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