[piosenniel]

Gondor

Security was in high force about the seventh tier of the city. And in fact no one except those of the guard and the Healers were allowed into the sixth level. Piosenniel had made several trips to visit Baran, one each day infact, letting him know she was still trying to see the King. She feared that leaving him to his own devices, the Beorning might elect to make his own way out of the locks by force – confirming his guilt in the minds of the people of the White City.

On the fifth day she was allowed to pass up to the top level. A brief, handwritten note to one of the port guards with whom she was on friendly terms had made its way through a series of hands (she had provided a small pouch of coins to ease the process), until at last the King had seen it and asked that she be shown up to him.

Two well armed guards accompanied her from the entrance to the sixth tier. Her sword and all her knives were laid in a safe bundle in the guardhouse there. And she suffered them to let one of the women Healers from the Houses just across the broad terrace pat her down.

‘Begging your pardon, Mistress,’ the guard had said to her as he escorted her to the room where the Healer waited. ‘But evil times call for watchful eyes. And all that is fair to look upon may hide an evil will.’

‘Just so, good Sir,’ said the Elf as they reached the room. ‘It is wise to trust no one, so that the King might not come to need the services of this Healer’s hands.’

Once done, she and her escort made their way to the White Tower. There were guards positioned at all strategic points about the King’s residence, the Hall of Feasts, and the Tower itself. Most windows she noted were tightly shuttered, and those that were open had guards visible within. The Tower, itself, had men at arms placed in abundance in the great Hall. And as they went up the staircase to the King’s office, she noted guards on each landing. One of the guards announced her to the sentry at the office door, and he in turn passed the word in that she had come.

There was the briefest of smiles on the familiar face that looked up as she entered. He waved short the curtsy she had commenced and motioned her into a chair. ‘No time for formalities, Mistress Piosenniel. I was intrigued by the very brief note you sent. I remembered you had brought the Skinchanger to the party a week ago.’ His brow furrowed for a moment, recalling his talk with Baran. ‘I took him at his word when I met him,’ he went on. ‘And to be truthful, he did not seem someone whose purposes were veiled. Yet, he is the only Skinchanger we knew was present in Minas Tirith during the attempt.’ His grey eyes regarded hers closely. ‘It was as much for his safety that I ordered him locked up and guarded as it was for mine.’

‘And so I thought,’ returned the Elf. ‘Though I would not tell him so. He might seek to prove just how well a Bear can take care of himself.’ Pio leaned forward, toward the King, seeking to say what Baran had told her. The guard just to the side of the King’s chair stepped forward, his hand already on the hilt of his blade, beginning to draw the blade. The Elf leaned back quickly against her own chair’s back, her hands flat on her thighs. Elessar motioned for the man to stand down, saying to Pio that no word of anything spoken in the office would go out of it.

Pio began by relating her own history with Baran, starting with their meeting in the Seventh Star Inn; his knowledge of her good friend Bird; her discussions with him and her assessment of his character when he had come to her home. ‘I truly believe he is from the area round the Carrock, and that he did indeed know Bird. And now seeks to connect with his Skinchanger kin which both he and Bird believed to be in the Southern lands.’

She went on to recount where Baran had been the evening of the attempt and who would vouch for him. And finally she spoke of the two grey cloaked figures he had passed on his way down from the library. The King was quiet as he considered what had been said. ‘I do believe what you have told me is the truth, but can he not offer something concrete I can hang my belief on that he is indeed from the north?’

Elessar raised his brows at her as she laughed, saying that Baran now offered final proof that he was truly from the north. The king shook his head, a slight crimson tinge along his cheekbones, as she told the story of the stumble and the borrowed helm. ‘And I thought I had sworn Gimli to secrecy!’ Elessar said, chuckling in the end at the story. The guard had barely enough time to wipe all traces of a grin from his face and appear to be staring at the wall opposite him when the King turned to look toward him. From her seat, Pio had seen the man’s face, and she now grinned at him, noting the trembling at the edges of his lips as he suppressed his smile.

Elessar took up his pen and pulled a clean sheet of vellum to him when he’d turned back to her. ‘I’ll give you a writ for his release. But it would be best if he did not venture into the city until this all is settled. Can you take him to your house for the while?’ Pio agreed, wondering if Baran would see the need to stay out of sight and out of mind to the citizenry.

‘A moment longer,’ Elessar requested as she took the writ in hand and prepared to leave. ‘The Skinchangers who attacked me were much smaller in their stature than a Beorning. Smaller than most men of Gondor, in fact. And they were olive skinned, dark of hair and eye. One called out to the other in a strange tongue I had not heard before. I had wondered if they might be Southrons.’ Pio nodded as he spoke. ‘Bird is small, and her looks fit those you have just described. Though, I have only ever heard from her one or two words in her native tongue. And long though my travels have been, I had not heard such a language before.’

‘Have you had word of late from The Lonely Star?’

The words were out of both their mouths as if the same thought had occurred to them. ‘None,’ began Pio. ‘Nor I,’ returned the King. ‘I will be interested to hear what Mithadan has learned in his travels south for Gondor. Perhaps once he has returned, his trip successful, he will consider going south once again with some of my men to ferret out what might be the cause of this attempt.’

‘Perhaps,’ she thought to herself. ‘Though the next time I will be with him.’

Aloud, she bade the king farewell and thanks for his time and consideration; saying the Star was expected back very soon and she would tell Mithadan of the King’s request. With a brief curtsy as was the custom, she left the Tower and made her way to the locks to pick up Baran.