Poison in the Citadel by Kathryn Ramage

Although there were families that grieved within it, Minas Tirith had become a safer place once the poisoner had been discovered. Members of the councilor sat down to their dinners without fear. There were less guards on duty within the citadel, and the off-duty guardsmen had begun to frequent the Steward's Arms in great numbers again. Even the Queen's ladies-in-waiting were able to drink tea after a few days. Frodo's work was praised by all.

Cirandil was stunned when he learned who had killed his kinsmen. "Of course, I remember the girl," he admitted to Frodo after he was released from the garrison hall. "We became friends while I recovered from my wound, but hadn't seen her since I went away last autumn. Nothing dishonorable passed between us. I never promised her marriage, or anything else. I never even kissed her!" The young Man grew pale as a thought occurred to him. "I told her once that I hated being a poor relation, orphaned and dependent on my uncle's kindness... Do you suppose that's where it began? I swear, I knew nothing of what she was doing. When I received that note, I had no idea who'd sent it."

In the days that followed, the King considered how best to fill the vacant seats in his Council, since Imatibin had resigned and Larengar was about to retire; Gefitibin's name was spoken, but no definite decision had yet been made. Grangirtan was appointed as Keeper of the Treasury and, in spite of his part in the scandal, Gathin was allowed to remain in his place for the present, until someone else who could manage the complicated bookkeeping system was found.

"You don't hate me, as Imatibin does?" Frodo asked timidly when he met Larengar shortly before the elderly councilor's leaving.

"I bear no grudge for you doing your duty," Larengar answered. "My Lord Elessar brought you here to conduct an investigation, and so you did, with great success. You only found out things that must come to light eventually. Mithrandir warned us at the beginning that it was a mistake to underestimate you Small Folk. I've learned the truth of that for myself!" He chuckled. "And Imatibin's gone--I'm thankful for that service you've done Gondor. If only Hilabar were out as well. It's what he deserves."

Frodo was surprised to hear that Larengar was still so vehemently against his old rivals. "You know now that they had nothing to do with Lord Carathir's death, don't you?" he asked.

"Yes, but they should never have been on the Council in the first place. At least, Hilabar's lost his chance to get his hands on the treasury. What he would've spent out of it on all his outlandish projects would never be replaced. Well, I'm out of that argument. Let the Council settle it. I'll spend time with my family--Tharya and Cirandil. They'll be married in the autumn, you know, after a decent interval has passed, and will live with me until that old ruin of a house of Carathir's can be made livable."

"You've no objection to the match?"

"None at all! You're welcome to attend the wedding, Frodo, if you're still here. Tharya thinks the world of you, since you saved them both."

Frodo ventured, "May I ask, if it isn't too personal a question: You knew that all along that Carathir had used up his money, and had nothing to leave his son or nephew, didn't you?"

"Yes, that's right," Larengar confirmed. "I knew about his taking money from the Treasury, if that's what you wish to know."

"No, that's not why I ask. But you would have your daughter wed to Caradan, and now Cirandil, even though they'd have no inheritance?"

"Oh, that doesn't matter. Carathir was my dearest friend. It was a show of allegiance that my daughter wed his son. Tharya is my one child and heir, and will be wealthy enough. Cirandil's the one she wants. Fool that I am, I didn't see that until she was so distressed when he flew off. And since I nearly lost her... Well, I can deny her nothing now. Besides, it's important that I stand by the boy. There are some who will always say he was in collusion with that poisoner woman. Tharya says it isn't so, and you don't believe it, do you, Frodo?"

"No, sir."

"Then that is enough for me. I can think of no better way to show our loyalty than by calling him my son-at-law. Carathir would wish it."




Though his work in Minas Tirith was done and Frodo was in better health than he'd been in in years, he was in no hurry to return home. It was best, he'd decided, to stay away and let Sam get used to living with Rosie and their baby, without him there. He tried not to think about Sam, and instead focused on making a new life for himself with Merry. They had fun together. He worked on his book. He and Merry went out riding with Eowyn and took walks on the mountain paths whenever they felt a need to have green grass and earth beneath their feet, and they spent their afternoons in the citadel in the company of their friends. Frodo even became involved in another mystery, following the discovery of a long-dead Elf buried within the citadel wall.

Midsummer had passed, and still Frodo remained in Minas Tirith. He and Merry were in the royal chambers one evening before dinner, when a page announced that a lone rider had arrived at the city gates and asked to see the King. Since he was known to the city guardsmen, the new arrival had been escorted up to the citadel and waited without.

"Please, bring him in," said Aragorn, as curious as the rest of the party to see who this messenger could be. The page went out, and returned with Pippin.

There were yelps of delighted surprise, and hugs all around. "You came all that way by yourself?" Merry and Frodo both asked, deeply impressed that Pippin had made such a remarkable journey alone.

"I had to come," Pippin answered, with an odd note in his voice; the undauntable little hobbit sounded unusually subdued, as if he were apologizing. "I didn't know how to send a message and be sure it would reach you." The other hobbits were alert now; whatever had brought Pippin so far, it was important. "Merry, your father's dead," he announced in the same contrite tone.

Merry gripped Frodo's arm. "How? He wasn't even eighty. Wh- what happened?"

"His heart gave out, they said," Pippin told him. "They found him in his study one evening after dinner. He hadn't been the same since you went away."

Merry looked as if he'd been struck by these last words. Frodo also felt a sharp pang of grief; Uncle Saradoc hadn't quite been like a father to him, the way Aunt Esme had been a second mother, but he'd grown up under Saradoc's care and protection, and had been fond of him in spite of his uncle's ridiculous stubbornness over Merry.

While the others murmured their sympathies, Pippin plunged on with his business: "It's six weeks ago now, Merry, but they're expecting you to come home as soon as you can. Your Uncle Merry's looking after things, but if you're going to take your rightful place, he says you've got to come. The Master of the Hall can't live away from it."

They decided to leave in the morning. Gandalf would accompany the hobbits as far as Rivendell. After dinner, they made their farewells and went to pack for the journey home. While Merry gathered his belongings in his room, Pippin sat on his old bed and told his cousins news of the Shire. When Frodo asked, he talked about Sam.

"They had a little girl," Pippin reported. "She was a funny little red lump at first, but they say she's going to turn out pretty. Sam says she's the image of Rosie. They named her Elanor."

"That's an odd name for a hobbit," said Merry as he stuffed shirts into his pack. "It sounds almost elvish."

"It is," said Frodo. "It's what the Elves call the little yellow flowers that grow in Lothlorien." He'd been the one to suggest the name, when Rosie had contradicted Sam's hopes for a son by stating definitely that her firstborn would be a daughter.

"Sam wanted to come with me," said Pippin, "but he couldn't, of course. He's far too busy at home with the new baby and his investigations."

"Sam's investigation's?" Frodo repeated in surprise.

"You couldn't know, but people still come to Bag End with their mysteries, even though you've gone away. Sam couldn't turn them away, so he does what he can for them, and I help out whenever I'm in Hobbiton. No murders--we mostly find missing things and untangle mischiefs. Sam's helped the shirriffs with a robbery or two. Why, the Mayor's-" Pippin stopped, for at this moment, Merry sank down to sit on the floor by his bed with his face in his hands.

"Merry!" Frodo leapt up before Pippin could move, and crossed the floor to crouch down at Merry's side. "Darling, what is it?"

"I'm sorry," Merry said in a choked voice. "It just struck me again, all of a sudden. Father's dead. Gone for good. He never understood, and he was awful to me when I left the Shire, but I always thought there'd be time for us to make things up between us one day... and now we won't." As he began to weep, Frodo put his arms around him. Merry clung to him and sobbed, "We'll never be reconciled now."

Frodo held onto him tightly while he cried. When he glanced up over Merry's bowed head, he saw that Pippin was staring at them. While not the most perceptive of hobbits, Pippin could obviously see that things had changed between the two of them.

As Frodo met his younger cousin's eyes, he realized that the long journey home would be an awkward one for all three.
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