| Subject: Trial |
Author:
Aragorn
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Date Posted: 17:31:19 05/02/02 Thu
Aragorn gripped the arm rests of the throne, his knuckles turning white, the wood digging into the fragile skin of his newly healed hands, his eyes blazing with barely concealed anger.
How Faramir knew he could only guess, but that was not what had filled the king with this rage. It was his choice to come down here and accuse Aragorn, to thrust his morals and opinions into a situation that he not only knew nothing about but was also none of his business.
So what if he had spent the night with Namün? Justice was still justice and to allow coutiers to terrorise the servants mearly because of their rank was not justice.
He had not searched for Arwen that was certainly true but then how could he have carried out such a search? The palantir was missing and knowing his wife she could be anywhere and whatever Faramir might think it would be almost impossible to locate her and a total waste of resources.
Biting down anger filled responces Aragorn rose sedatly from the throne, trying to keep his voice steady he spoke. "The Lord Faramir speaks well but I fear that the facts remain the same.
"Many of you know Deollyn and I would ask you all, do any believe he is suitable for command?"
A nervous silence filled the room.
"It is for my people's safety that I strip him of his rank rather than any other sinister motive." He paused again, for dramatic effect and to compose himself.
"The Lord Steward calls me impartial and I must confess him to be intirely correct." Another pause and his voice rose." How can one be anything but biased when the choices are to support truth, justice and virtue or to support a drunken fool, who disgraces his title and position?"
Deollyn pulled against the guards and started to shout insults at Aragorn, who stood breathing heavily in front of the throne.
"What did you call me?!"
"A drunken fool and a disgrace. There is nothing more to say on the matter therefore I sentance you to a 5 year excile. Consider yourself fortunate in this, for at this moment I can think of nothing I would like more that to cleave you limb from limb, such is my anger."
His blood pressure high Aragorn turned to sit back down on the throne when Deollyn called "why don't you try?"
Slowly he turned back towards the assembled couriters and the struggling Deollyn, "I'm sorry?"
"Trial by single combat. As the son of a nobleman I have the right to whatever trial I choose." He paused thoughtfully before throwing the king's words back at him, "it is only justice."
Quivering with bareley supressed fury Aragorn answered as calmly as he could. "Very well. As the accused you can chose the weapons, time and place."
"Today, late afternoon, the training grounds, broadswords."
"Whatever you wish. Justice will of course prevail."
"Of course," Deollyn answered as he was escorted out of the room into a cell where he could prepare for the duel. "I hope your majesty is in good shape," he sneered and was pulled forcefully out of the door.
Sinking into his throne Aragorn felt the depression sweep through his body. How would he survive this?
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