When he left the Houses of Healing, Frodo went up to the citadel to meet the King's Council. Aragorn had told him that the Council convened regularly at what was ten o'clock in the Shire, and that they would be expecting him at that hour.
They were already seated around the great, round table in the council-chamber when Faramir escorted him in. There were eleven councilors in all, and an empty chair in what had been Carathir's place. Frodo found them and the room itself intimidating: the ceiling seemed to rise miles overhead; the black and white marble of the walls and floor felt cold and harsh, and all the furniture towered over him. The room was silent as he entered. He could feel all eyes upon him and, as he walked toward the table, the only sounds he heard were the soft patter of his bare feet and the louder, echoing thumps of Faramir's boots behind him. The sound of those boot-steps was comforting, for it meant that a friend was nearby.
He spotted the King seated in his tall-backed chair at the far side of the table and, standing at the windows behind it, Gandalf. When the wizard smiled, Frodo felt more confident.
Aragorn rose from his seat and came around table. "Frodo, welcome."
The councilors were also rising, coming forward to meet him. Aragorn introduced them: Larengar, Grangirtan, Alzaran, Diarmad, Imatibin, Hilabar, Belethor, Sirih. Frodo had met some of these same Men at Aragorn's coronation, but he knew little of the structure of Gondor's government and had never learned what the Council did beyond advise the King. The Shire had nothing like a Council; one mayor was considered sufficient to see to the necessary business of appointing magistrates, chief sherriffs, and postmasters, as well as performing the public duties of the office by showing up at ceremonies on holidays and attending parties held by prominent hobbits.
All spoke words of welcome, and those who remembered him addressed him as Ringbearer, as the Master Healer had, but Frodo thought he saw incredulity in the expressions of some as they looked down at him.
"We've long looked forward to your coming, Ringbearer," said Larengar, who was an elderly Man, heavy-set and white-haired. "You are indeed most welcome. This terrible matter has been of the greatest concern to all of us since we learned that Carathir's death was no accident. King Elessar has spoken of your work as an investigator in your homeland, and it is my especial hope that you'll also prove successful here. Carathir was a dear friend of mine, and I would see justice for him and his son."
"There was also the woman from the Houses of Healing," Hilabar, a much younger and leaner Man, pointed out. "She was poisoned too."
"True. None in the city are safe."
"I say it must be the work of a madman," said Imatibin, with a significant glance at his fellow councilors. "No sane creature could commit such acts."
It was then that Frodo realized they were all frightened, but not as the herbalists had been; this was a different type of fear. The herbalists he'd spoken to had been afraid for their safety from an outside harm--anyone who had killed one healer might easily kill another--but they did not believe that that killer was one of their own. Aside from Methilde, none could conceive the idea that a healer, who had vowed to preserve life, could also deliberately take a life. The councilors, on the other hand, suspected that the murderer was among them. As they discussed these poisonings, he saw the way their eyes flickered to the others; even as they ostensibly spoke to him, they were looking to see how the other councilors reacted to their words.
None of them dared to voice their suspicions, but he would have to consider exactly what they feared. Methilde's remarkable suggestion that someone had hired her aunt to poison Carathir and his son had been whirling in his head since he'd left her. If what she suspected was true, then these Men were the most likely people to do so, after the nephew Cirandil. Did any of them have a reason to hate Carathir enough to kill him and his son? There might be factions and long-standing political differences that went back years before Aragorn had claimed his throne. Or perhaps fresh quarrels had arisen under the King? These were questions that the Men of the Council would probably not answer honestly if he asked them, but they were precisely the things he must find out.
Aragorn had just invited Frodo to tell what he'd discovered that morning at the Houses of Healing, when a voice spoke behind him, "Your pardon, my lord--"
Frodo turned and saw that a young Man in the uniform of the citadel guard stood at the open doors with Beregond, staring at him.
Aragorn had also turned to the newcomer. "Cirandil, welcome. I wished you to join us today, to meet Frodo."
"Frodo..." Cirandil's eyes, still on Frodo, widened incredulously. "This is the great investigator who has come to aid us? I had heard he was to be one of the Little Folk, akin to the halfling seen about the court and the lad who served as Lord Denethor's esquire, but I expected- I am amazed that we have put the finding of my kinsmen's murderer into the hands of one who appears as a child of ten!"
Frodo knew that Cirandil didn't mean to be deliberately insulting; his appearance must come as a surprise to a Man who had heard of his reputation, but had never seen him before. "Actually," he said, "I'm seven-and-thirty."
The young man's face colored and he said, "You don't look as if you could be so old, little one. You are ten years older than me!"
"We age more slowly than Men, and don't come of age 'til we are three-and-thirty," Frodo explained. "I admit I am young, even by the reckoning of my own people, but I've solved other murders before this, and will do my best to find who is responsible for your kinsmen's deaths, and the death of the herbalist."
"It is a mistake to underestimate 'the Little Folk,'" Gandalf said dryly. "Time and again, they have been tested and proved their worth. I would not have brought Frodo so far if I did not believe he was equal to this task."
"And I would not have sent for him if I did not believe so too," Aragorn added.
"Your pardon, my lord, Mithrandir," Cirandil said again, but more contritely this time. "I meant no offense. If you say this Frodo is capable, then he must be so."
Cirandil said no more after that, but stood and listened as the Council began its business with the King's Investigator. Their first meeting was brief. Frodo reported what the Master Healer and herb-master had told him about the nature of the poison used and how it might have been made by any with a basic knowledge of herb-lore. He did not mention Methilde's theory.
Once Frodo had finished, Aragorn said, "We must speak of measures to be taken to ensure that the citadel and the Houses of Healing are made secure. You needn't stay, unless you wish it, Frodo."
Frodo left the council-chamber, but lingered in the corridor outside, taking a seat on a marble bench between two massive columns. He had hoped for a chance to speak to Aragorn privately, but the Council meeting seemed to be a long one. After awhile, he became aware that he wasn't alone. A flicker of dark cloth farther along the corridor caught his attention, and he turned to see a young lady of the court standing in the shadow of another column. She wore a black gown and had long black hair beneath an even longer black veil. She also seemed to be waiting for someone, for her eyes were on the door to the council-chamber and she did not appear to see him.
When Cirandil emerged, she went to him. The two exchanged a few whispered words before they noticed the hobbit seated nearby. The lady darted away again quickly.
After she had gone, Cirandil came to speak to Frodo. "I must apologize for my foolhardy words."
"I wasn't offended," Frodo answered. "I'm sure many of the Council thought the same, and must also have doubts about my abilities."
"But they had the good sense to keep their tongues still?" Cirandil smiled wryly. "They wouldn't dare speak against you in our King's hearing. My lord Elessar often speaks your praises. Even today, after you'd gone from the room, he said that he owes his return to the throne of his forefathers to you, and all in this city owe you their lives. I hadn't realized 'til then that you were the same halfling who went into Mordor."
"Yes, I am he," said Frodo, but said no more. It wasn't modesty; he never liked to talk about his quest, especially when he was praised for a success that had been entirely beyond his control. It was somewhat disconcerting to hear how Aragorn spoke of him to others.
"I never saw you when you were here before, though of course I heard the tales that were told," Cirandil continued. "If you could accomplish that, then you may also find the one who killed my kinsmen--and prove that I did not. I am suspected. I know it. I see it in the eyes of many, even comrades in arms who have been my friends from boyhood. Oh, they would fain deny it, but they doubt me all the same. Even the most loyal wonder if I could have done this thing. But know this, little one: I have no desire to assume my uncle's place, nor take what rightly belonged to my cousin Caradan. They were dear to me as a father and brother. If I come to a higher position through their deaths, it is a responsibility I am not prepared for, nor that I wish to undertake. I would be happier to remain a guardsman for many years more, and have my kinsmen live."
He sounded extremely earnest and even a little angry, as if he were shouting down his doubting friends. Frodo didn't know whether or not to believe him. "I will do all I can to discover the truth of the matter," he said noncommittally. "Since you wish to clear your name, I hope that I can rely on your assistance. May I ask--Who was that lady you were speaking to, the one who was all in black?"
"She is no one," Cirandil answered shortly. "She has nothing to do with this." And he turned on his heel and walked away.
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