Frodo awoke from his nap some hours later to a rap on the door. The room was dark; though the curtains were drawn back, the last of the sunlight had faded from the sky. "What time is it?" he called out.
"We've still half an hour before dinner," Merry answered through the door. "There's no need to rush, but don't dawdle either. We wouldn't want to be late."
Frodo rose, washed, and changed into his finest clothes--the dark blue velvet tunic he'd worn to Aragorn's and Arwen's wedding. Merry and Gandalf were waiting for him by the front door, and they walked up to the citadel together.
Frodo had been afraid that this dinner would be a grand, formal occasion, with all the King's court and the most important people of Minas Tirith assembled to meet him. To his relief, he found that it was only a small, private party in Aragorn's and Arwen's chambers. In addition to the three of them, Faramir and Eowyn were the only other guests.
The conversation over dinner was just the sort a reunion of old friends should have: Frodo talked about Sam and Rosie and the baby, and about the book he was writing of his adventures on the quest. He wondered if Aragorn had a little time to help him with the parts of the story no hobbit had witnessed, such as the phenomenal 45-league run that Strider, Legolas, and Gimli had taken to follow the orcs who'd kidnapped Merry and Pippin, and their later journey on the Paths of the Dead. Aragorn agreed to find time and, from there, they spoke of their erstwhile companions.
"What's become of Gimli and Legolas?" Frodo asked. "I assume they've gone from the city, or they'd be here too."
"They remained in Minas Tirith for many months," Aragorn told him, "but they went at last to see the Glittering Caves at Aglarond."
"How wonderful! Gimli spoke of visiting them for so long," Frodo recalled how, in Lothlorien, the dwarf had insisted that the beauty of the famous caves surpassed any elven woodland, and he and Legolas had argued about it since.
"Yes, he has long desired to show them to his friend."
"Will you write of your adventures as an investigator when you finish this book, Frodo?" asked Queen Arwen.
"I've written one already," Frodo replied, "about the history of Gondolin, as told to me by a very old elf who was there. Others, I suppose, may also make interesting reading. We've had some odd cases." He amused his friends with stories of the hunt for Mrs. Taggart's jewels, the circumstances under which he and Merry had first met Mr. Grimmold's troupe, and the curious tale of the umbrella thief who had plagued Hobbiton last autumn.
"Merry's told us that you've investigated other murders too," said Eowyn.
"A few," Frodo answered diffidently. "There have never been very many murders in the Shire, but I seem to have landed in the middle of every one that's occurred in the last two years, and been called to sort them out." He looked shyly at the others seated around him. "Is it permitted to speak of this business, of why you've called me here? I don't know what Big Folk's customs are on such subjects." He was thinking primarily of the ladies; Eowyn was a former shield-maid and accustomed to blood and battle, but would Arwen, with her elvish sensibilities, find the topic of murder grotesquely unsuitable?
"Aunt Eglantine, Pippin's mother, says it isn't fitting to speak of such horrid things over the dining table," said Merry with a grin. "But the other hobbit-ladies are always interested in hearing about mysteries and murders."
"Yes, that's so," Frodo admitted. "My cousins, Peony, Angelica, and Estella, have aided in my investigations."
Eowyn smiled. "I think I would like the hobbit-ladies."
"These deaths are terrible to think of, but they are near to us," said Arwen. "Their solution is of concern to us all."
"I've asked Beregond, who has been in charge of the investigation thus far, to join us after dinner to tell you what he's learned of the matter," Aragorn informed Frodo. "We will speak of it then."
When they finished dinner, the ladies retired to Arwen's boudoir, where her maids-in-waiting had gathered. Merry went with them, to tell Eowyn more about his and Frodo's girl-cousins. Beregond, the captain of the citadel Guard, arrived soon after and met with Aragorn, Frodo, Faramir, and Gandalf in the King's counsel-closet, a small room in the royal chambers for private discussions.
"What can you tell me of these murders?" Frodo requested. "I know very little, only what Gandalf said when he came to fetch me. We haven't talked of it since. There were two victims--a councilor and his son?"
Aragorn nodded. "And there has been a third since Gandalf left to bring you to Minas Tirith."
"Three murders?" Frodo looked up at the tall Men standing around him in surprise, and then at the wizard seated in the corner of the small room. "When did this last happen?"
"Two nights ago," Aragorn told him, "but it was not discovered until yesterday morning."
"I did not learn of it myself, until after you'd gone to rest," added Gandalf. "There was no good time to speak of it before this."
"But we get ahead of ourselves!" said the King. "It is best you hear of the deaths in an orderly fashion, Frodo. Beregond will tell you all he knows."
Beregond came forward. He was a tall Man, taller than Aragorn or Faramir, slender and lank with long, pale hair. As he gazed down at the tiny hobbit standing before him, Frodo wondered what he must feel at being supplanted by an outside investigator less than half his size.
Whatever Beregond's thoughts on the matter, he gave his report to Frodo impartially, as his king and lord had bidden. "The first was Councilor Carathir. He was head of one of the oldest noble families in Minas Tirith--his forefathers have advised Kings and Stewards of Gondor for countless generations. Lord Carathir was found dead in his chamber here in the citadel by his servants one morning at midwinter. He was an aged man, and it was first believed that his heart had failed in the night. An odd mottling was noticed on his skin, and there was a bluish color on his lips. After seeing the odd markings upon Carathir's face, the Master Healer said he may have taken some poison by accident. A tragic mistake, but no more was thought of it at that time. Lord Carathir was laid to rest in his family tomb.
"Unlike many of the great families, Lord Carathir was fortunate to leave a son to carry on his name, until Carathir's son, Caradan, died in the same manner a month later. Caradan was a young man in his prime, a lieutenant of the Guard."
"I knew Caradan from boyhood," said Faramir. "I've fought beside him in defense of the city many times, and considered him a friend."
"He was last seen alive among his fellows at the Steward's Arms, a tavern in the lower levels of the city, drinking ale," reported Beregond.
"Yes, I know it." Frodo remembered the tavern. It had been a favorite haunt of Merry's and Pippin's during their previous stay in the city; he'd gone with them occasionally to have a pint there himself. "Did Caradan die there?"
"No, but it seems most likely that that was where he was given the poison. Many men had ale from the same barrel that Caradan drank from, but the Arms is a crowded place, full of people and noise. It would not be difficult for someone to place poison in his mug and go unnoticed. Caradan's companions all say that he was hearty when he left them. The others are well. Only Caradan was found dead on the floor of his chamber the next morning. It appears that he fell as soon as he arrived. He still wore his uniform, and there is no sign that he took further food or drink after he left the tavern. As with his father, his lips were blue and his face mottled."
"It was then we realized Carathir's death was no accident," said Aragorn. "Some more malignant force was at work."
"Who is the heir now?" asked Frodo. "Is there one--or was he the third victim?"
"There is an heir, alive," Beregond replied. "He is Carathir's nephew and sister-son, Cirandil. He is also one of the citadel Guard."
"I see what you suspect, Frodo," said Faramir, "but I've known Cirandil as long as I knew Caradan. A man's mind may be turned to evil with great temptation, but I find it hard to believe that Cirandil is capable of such a crime. Besides, he was far from the city at the time of his kinsmen's deaths."
"There is no proof that the poison was given to Caradan that night," said Gandalf. "Poisons may be given days in advance, and their effects not felt immediately. I do not accuse your friend, Faramir, but it is also possible that our poisoner is not doing his work alone. He may have a confederate."
"Yes, that's so," agreed Frodo. "Do you know what poison the victims were given? Perhaps that's a question best asked of the Master Healer."
"You will have an opportunity to speak to him tomorrow," said Aragorn. "You'll no doubt want to visit the Houses of Healing tomorrow regardless."
At first, Frodo thought that his friend was gently alluding to his fragile health, then he understood that Aragorn was referring to something else. "Why?" he asked. "Does it have to do with the third victim? You still haven't told me who he was."
"She, not he. The third was an old woman named Bregilde, of no connection to the family of Carathir," said Beregond. "She was a herbalist in the Houses of Healing."
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