Post by meaningofhaste on Aug 15, 2005 15:14:55 GMT
Just as I thought I must suffocate, the light brightened, and I felt a firm surface beneath my feet. The Prince, Holmes and I were standing in a stone-walled chamber, furnished with marble benches and hung with draperies of rich but subdued colors.
"I trust you feel no ill effects from your journey, gentlemen," remarked the Prince. "You are in the Steward's chambers in the citadel of Minas Tirith.
It is too late in the evening to commence your investigations. A room has been made ready for you. I suggest you take what rest you can, and tomorrow we will consider how to proceed."
The prnce bowed slightly, and with a slight gesture indicated a doorway in which a servant stood waiiting. The man appeared to notice nothing unusual in our appearance, but merely conducted us to a small chamber warmed by a glowing bronze brazier. Low stone benches were piled with rugs and cushions and an assortment of foreign clothing was laid out on a massive wooden chest in a corner. A small table held a pitcher of wine and a platter of dried meats, bread, cheese and preserved fruits.
Holmes rubbed his hands together briskly, always a sign of satisfaction with him. "This case looks to be most promising, apart from the novel surroundings," he commented, taking a quick turn about the room and pausing to peer through a narrow casement into the darkness. For myself, I felt a tremendous lassitude, and it was all I could do to divest myself of my bowler, coat and boots and lie down on one of the benches, being careful to place my trusty revolver beneath my pillow, before I fell asleep.
I was awakened by Holmes' hand on my shoulder, shaking me awake. "The sun is up, Watson, and the game is afoot. Get up at once." I sat up, reflecting ruefully that the introduction of bed springs to the Kingdom of Gondor would not come amiss. Holmes was, I observed, already dressed in foreign garb, consisting of loose trousers, a leather waiscoat and low boots, an embroidered tunic and hooded cloak. I hastened to rise and wash in the copper basin of hot water that stood by. In a few minutes I had clothed myself in garments similar to Holmes.' I found them not uncomfortable, but felt strangely uneasy without the familiar constriction of belt and braces, while my head, uncovered by my bowler, felt decidedly chilly.
The manservant appeared and conducted us to a larger room with high windows overlooking a broad and distant river, and mountains looming beyond. A cheerful fire burned in a wide hearth, and before it stood our host. A breakfast table laid for five stood near one of the windows. Above the mantel hung a life-size portrait of a striking figure--a beautiful young woman clad in a tunic of silver mail, her golden hair flowing loose around her shoulders and a long sword in her hands.
Our host noticed our interest, and spoke "That is a portrait of my betrothed, the Lady Eowyn of Rohan, also known as the Lady of the Shield Arm and the White Lady." Holmes and I hastened to offer our congratulations, and Holmes made a conventional inquiry as to the wedding date.
"It has not yet been determined," replied the Prince. "Lady Eowyn has many responsibilities in Rohan and feels obligated to assist her brother, King Eomer." I thought a shadow of vexation crossed his face as he spoke. He continued "Rohan is Gondor's oldest and most faithful ally, and even now a regiment of its cavalry is stationed in Minas Tirith."
We were interrupted by the entrance of two extraordindary figures. One was a tall, slender being with an exceptionally handsome but somewhat effeminate face. His pale hair flowed loosely down his back, and I noticed that his ears were sharply pointed. A long dagger hung at his hip. His face was curiously devoid of expression. His companion could not have been a greater contrast--scarcely more than four feet high, he was nearly as broad, and could have found occupation in a sideshow, so hairy was he. Bushy brows overhung small bright black eyes, and a vast beard grew from his cheekbones and covered him to the waist. The backs of his powerful hands were thickly matted with hair, and long braids hung down his back. A vicious-looking axe was tucked into his wide belt.
"Mr, Holmes, Dr. Watson, allow me to present Prince Legolas of the Woodland Elves and Gimli, Dwarf Lord of the Glittering Caves," said Prince Faramir as he led us to the breakfast table. "Your new garments become you excellently," he went on. "Your disguise while here will be that of visitors from the east, from beyond the Kingdom of Dale. As strangers your ignorance of many of our customs will seem natural, as will your curiosity and the questions you may need to ask.
"Let us sit down and refresh ourselves while we discuss the situation. Prince Legolas and Lord Gimli have known the King even longer than I, and it was Legolas' suggestion to use the Seeing Stone to search for help."
The elf spoke for the first time in a gentle, musical voice. "My heart tells me that no one from Gondor can solve this mystery, Mr. Holmes. Our whole dependence is on you."
"Aye," grunted the dwarf in deep grating tones. "There's no good to be done hunting under mattresses and in cupboards. If the stone is to be found in time, you must do it. And if my axe can help you, it is at your service."
Holmes bowed acknowlegement to the strange pair. "I think I would like to see the lady first," he stated. "Can you take me to her?" "At once, Mr. Holmes," replied Prince Faramir. The four of us (for the elf ate nothing) hastily swallowed the excellent porridge and sausages with which the table was furnished, and rose to go, myself secretly regretting the absence of my morning cup of tea.
The prince led the way quickly along spacious corridors and up broad staircases. He and Prince Legolas outpaced the dwarf with his short legs, and Holmes and I too found ourselves lagging behind. As we panted along, Holmes murmured confidentially to Lord Gimli "I fear I may have unintentionally offended Prince Faramir. He spoke of his betrothal but when I asked about the date of the nuptials, I thought he appeared annoyed. As a stranger in a very delicate position, I do not wish to offend."
Holmes ended his comment on a note of inquiry. The dwarf looked at Holmes sharply, hesitated, and then muttered "The lady has made and then cancelled two wedding dates. It's a sore subject with Lord Faramir and I advise you let it lie."
The prince and Legolas had paused to let us laggards catch up, and Holmes did no more than nod slightly in acknowledgement. We continued at a more moderate pace until at last we arrived at a small door guarded by two helmeted soldiers in black tunics emblazoned with a silver tree. They saluted and stood aside as the prince produced a heavy key and unlocked the door. Passing through it we five found ourselves in a spacious circular room, well lit by a large window and furnished in the rich but severe Gondorian style.
"My lords," said a low voice, and a tiny creature rose from a deep chair by the fireplace. Faramir's description of Princess Korallein, unflattering as it was, had nevertheless left me unprepared for her appearance. Nothing could have been more unlike the conventional idea of a seductress.
She was scarcely five feet tall, and extremely slender. She possessed nothing of the fine rosy color and healthy flesh of one of our English beauties, but had a sallow skin and rather sharp features. As she stood, I noticed a slight awkwardness in her stance, and my physician's eye identified a moderate case of scoliosis. Only the glossy black hair loosely knotted on her neck,
a pair of huge, lambent dark eyes, and a short, tender upper lip hinted at the appeal that had ensnared a king.
Faramir stepped forward and bowed slightly to the lady. "Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, the Princess Korellein.
Madam, these gentlemen have come to question you."
"Another interrogation?" smiled the princess, casting a challenging glance at Prince Faramir. "Last time you forced me to listen to twelve uninterrupted hours of elvish singing. If boredom could break me, I believe I would have succumbed in ten minutes. My lord, you know that I will never be unfaithful to my master."
"And faithful servants can expect to be rewarded," answered Faramir with a stern glance. "The laborer is worthy. . . ."
Holmes said nothing, merely regarding the lady fixedly. The dwarf growled something untelligible under his breath, while the elf prince simply gazed remotely into space. Then Holmes asked abruptly "Have you ever been in Rohan, Madam?"
I was startled by the unexpectedness and pointlessness of Holme's question. The lady stared in surprise, and then laughed mockingly. "Rohan!" she exclaimed, "Where the men are men and the women are. . . men, too." She hesitated for a second, glancing quickly at Prince Faramir, and continued, "No, I have never been in Rohan, nor in Lothlorien, where embroidery and polite conversation are a woman's sole occupation!" Laughing again, she turned away and resumed her seat.
I was shocked by the mocking contempt with which these words were uttered. Holmes seemed unmoved, and merely turned to Prince Faramir with "I have nothing more to ask. Shall we go?" The prince nodded his assent, and once more we all passed through the door, the prince locking it behind us and pausing briefly to speak to the guards. We descended several flights of stairs and then Faramir paused on a landing. Smiling slightly, he asked "Mr. Holmes, why did you ask Princess Korallein about Rohan?
"Your highness," Holmes answered, " sometimes it is useful to let the prisoner feel superior to the questioner. This sense of superiority will sometimes lead to a careless word or unintended hint. The Princess' fling at the women of Rohan and the elf ladies shows me that she has a very feminine resentment towards them, a resentment no doubt fueled by her own lack of beauty. You marked her slight deformation, did you not, Watson?"
I nodded agreement, and Holmes continued "The Princess is naturally inclined to pride herself upon her intelligence and wit by way of compensation. We may perhaps be able to use this vanity against her, and I may ask to see her again. But now, if I may, I would like to see the scene of the crime."
"Certainly, Mr. Holmes," answered Faramir. "Legolas, Gimli, will you accompany us?" The dwarf and elf both excused themselves, the elf inscrutable and remote as ever, while something in Gimli's glance suggested that he had expected more of Holmes than had hitherto been evinced.
The prince led Holmes and me along more corridors and staircases, until we arrived at an impressive portico fronting on a wide landing. We passed more of the black-clad guards and entered a lofty anteroom. The prince indicated seats along the walls. "Will you wait while I speak to the King? He will wish to see you, of course." Faramir vanished through a richly carved door, and we were left alone.
Holmes rubbed his hands together in a satisfied manner. "I think I begin to see a gleam of light, Watson." Then, abruptly, "What do you think of Prince Faramir?"
"Well," I replied thoughfully, "he seems most gentlemanly, and devoted to the King, though perhaps a little too eager to smooth over his failings."
"Yes, I had noticed that," replied Holmes, "but what I really wanted to know is, do you find the Prince attractive?"
I felt myself flushing, and replied "As I said, he seems a most gentlemanly person--as to his attractiveness, that is not something that I could be expected to appreciate."
"Very well, Watson," smiled Holmes, "let me phrase it this way--is the Prince, in your opinion, likely to be attractive to women? That mouth, combining softness and firmness, those unusual eyes, seeming always to be on the verge of a smile, that manly but caressing voice, the very beautiful hands--women notice a man's hands, Watson--in general, a combination of masculine strength with a certain sensuality: do you think these characteristics will appeal to women?"
Somewhat stiffly, I replied in the affirmative, Mrs. Hudson's uncharacteristic behavior recurring to my mind.
Our colloquy was interupted by the appearance of an elderly, soberly clad man--confidential servant might have been written across his forehead, so true was he to type--who bowed and ushered us into the inner room.
"Your Majesty," said Faramir, "may I present Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson who I hope can help us recover the Elf-Stone."
His Gondorian majesty was a very tall man, with gray eyes and dark hair slightly sprinkled with white. His expression was worn and anxious, but when he spoke a few words of welcome his voice was steady and courteous. During my medical studies I had encountered some of the practitioners of phrenology, and while being far from convinced of the soundness of their theories, I was interested to observe on the king's forehead the classic signs of a temperament at once resolute and steadfast, but rigid and slow of thought.
His garments were simple and practical, suggesting an outdoorsman rather than a king, and were in contrast to his surroundings. The large room with its many arched windows opening onto a deep balcony was richly furnished with tapestries and fur rugs, while the stone of walls and the wood of its furniture were fantastically carved with emblems representing (I presumed) the royal house of Gondor. Most prominent were representations of the white tree and a star, though various fantastic creatures sported on every surface and peered from corners.
The most conspicuous piece of furniture was a huge table standing against a wall, and laden with papers, dispatch boxes, files, and writing equipment. Its pale wood and rich golden mountings glowed softly in the subdued light. A series of compartmented wall cabinets nearby held hundreds of scrolls, neatly arranged and lableled.
Nevertheless, certain indications suggested that the King's true interests lay elsewhere. Riding boots, a bow and quiver of arrows, a falconer's glove, and fishing rods scattered around the room suggested a fondness for outdoor exercise, while two huge hounds watched us sleepily from the hearth.
An incongrous note was added by a steaming kettle hanging over the fire which exuded a strong medicinal smell. A slight thickness in his utterance and a tinge of pink to the royal nose suggested that his majesty was suffering from a heavy cold.
Holmes spoke, "May I have a description of the jewel, your majesty, and see where it is ordinarily kept?"
The king nodded and gestured toward an adjoining room. Prince Faramir bowed and escorted us out of the room, while the king remained behind, staring gloomily into the embers of the fire. The room we entered was obviously the royal dressing room, for chests and presses displayed clothing, while a simple washstand and tub occupied one corner. A dressing table bore a small mirror, combs and brushes, shaving tackle and the most amazing object I had ever seen--a great helmet of shining white metal bearing mother-of-pearl wings and ornamented with seven huge diamonds--any one of which would have created a sensation amongst the jewelers of Bond Street.
"The Crown of Gondor," explained the Prince. "The Elf-Stone hung from this hook by the mirror. It was--is-- a clear green stone the size of a small egg that shines with its own brilliance. It is set between silver wings a handspan in width."
"And these treasures simply stood in the open, never under lock and key?" asked Holmes.
"We in Gondor are not thieves, Mr. Holmes," answered the prince proudly. "At first the king thought that he must somehow have mislaid the stone, and only after privately questioning his personal servants did he think of Princess Korellein and the access she had to his chambers. He brought his doubts to me, I questioned her, and she immediately admitted to the theft."
"I thank your highness," responded Holmes, continuing his survey of the room. Here also there was evidence of the king's sporting avocations--fishing lures and lines tangled on the dressing table, a hunting knife on a chest, even, as Holmes discovered on casually opening a carved casket, a camp cooking outfit.
"I think we have seen enough, your highness," said Holmes. "I believe my researches will be best continued
elsewhere. Have I the King's permission to visit the royal archives, and may Watson leave the citadel on an errand in the city?"
"Of course," smiled Lord Faramir. "May the Valar speed your efforts!" The confidential servant appeared as if by magic and escorted us out a side door. Once we were in the corridor, Holmes signaled the man to wait and drew me aside. "Watson, find where the Rohirrim regiment is quartered and go there at once. Do not approach any of the officers, but seek out the grooms and servants--the lower orders. Find out all you can about the Lady Eowyn and her betrothal to Prince Faramir. Servants' gossip is what we need. When you have the information, return to the Prince's chambers and await me there. Now, off with you!" and he turned back to the waiting servant.
With the help of a passing lackey I found my way to the citadel entrance, where further inquiry directed me the the quarters of the Rohirrim regiment on the third level of the city. As I made my way downward through the crowded, sloping streets, I was impressed by the majesty of the city, with its vast white walls, towers, arches and domes. I was also struck by its extreme inconvenience, and reflected that a funicular such as one finds in the Alpine resorts would be a useful addition to the city's amenities.
Pressing onward through the variegated crowds, I was easily able to identify the native Gondorians by their tall stature, fair complexions, gray eyes and grave manner.
The reserve and dignity of their bearing reminded me of the Spanish gentry I had seen when my troop ship paused at Gibraltar on my voyage to Afghanistan. The darker, more vivacious Haradrim and rather sinister looking individuals called "Easterlings" stood in strong contrast.
At length I reached the Rohirrim quarters. Luckily, a groom was just leading in two magnificent horses from their morning exercise. A sincere compliment on their appearance, a flattering comment or two on the neatness and spaciouness of the stables, and I was soon in easy conversation with several grooms and a very voluble maidservant.
The grooms were fine, sturdy, blonde-haired fellows, and the maidservant was a picture of robust health and vigor. It was soon clear to me that my companions were intensely proud of their country, and convinced of its military superiority. While no one said so outright, I received a distinct impression that their opinion of the Gondorians as fighting men was not high, though King Elessar they seemed to regard almost as one of their own.
I ventured to say that I had heard that even the women of Rohan were fighters, and instantly I was overwhelmed with a paean of praise for the Lady Eowyn, with detailed accounts of her defeat of something or someone called the "Witch King." I was quite naturally able to inquire about her present occupations and whereabouts, and immediately the maidservant was in full flood about her engagement to Prince Faramir, the twice-delayed wedding, her trousseau. . . . One of the grooms snorted comtemptuously, and said everyone knew the lady regretted her engagement and "didn't want to spend her life tending flowers and reading poetry to patients in the Houses of Healing." Another interjected that things might change once King Eomer married Lothiriel of Dol Amroth come spring--Lady Eowyn could never play second fiddle to a sister-in-law. "Best take the bird at hand than fret for the one that got away," opined another, and was immediately shushed by the maidservant.
I judged that I had acquired the information Holmes sought, and the fortunitous appearance of a head groom with some sharp comments about "worthless layabouts and chattering females" gave occasion for my departure. Half an hour's climb up the steep streets brought me back to the citadel and the Steward's quarters, where I thankfully sat down to await Holme's return.
I had been waiting for two hours and was beginning to feel decidely peckish when Holmes entered hastily, accompanied by Prince Legolas and the the dwarf Gimli. I was alarmed by Holmes' appearance, for his clothing was dust-smeared, his face was bruised and a bandage encircled his temples.
Nevertheless, Holmes' spirits appeared to be buoyant.
"We are getting close to the secret, Watson!" he exclaimed. "I had a fruitful discussion with the Royal Archivist and then paid a visit in the guise of a casual idler to the back premises of the Haradian embassy. In making my way back to the citadel, I was fortunate to encounter Prince Legolas and Lord Gimli. As we were passing under a wall on the second level a huge stone fell from above, and had not Legolas' quick eyes caught a glimpse of it as it fell, and had not Gimli alertly thrust me out of its way, I most likely would be a corpse at this moment. The stone missed me completely, but it shattered and a frament struck my head. The cut is trifling " he added, seeing my look of concern, "and Legolas has bandaged it skillfully."
"An assassination attempt!" I exclaimed. "Have you any idea who may be behind it?"
"Legolas caught a glimpse of someone on the wall, but the figure's face was masked," replied Holmes. "Now Watson, what did you discover about the Lady Eowyn and Prince Faramir? Quickly, there is no time to be lost!"
I reported as concisely as I could what I had gleaned from the Rohirric servants. Gimli growled under his breath at intervals, and even the impassive elf showed signs of emotion during my narrative.
"Watson, the trail is warm and we may soon track the culprit to his lair. Legolas, will you go to the kings's chambers to request an audience for us, and Gimli, will you fetch the Princess from her confinement? I believe Prince Faramir is already in attendance on the King, so let us all join them at once."
The elf and dwarf left the room hastily, and Holmes asked "Have you your revolver, Watson?" 'Yes," I replied, "loaded and ready." "Bring it then, and be ready to use it, though I hope events will not require such extreme measures."
We left the room together, and guided by a servant, soon found ourselves outside the King's chambers. Legolas awaited us with the news that the King and Prince Faramir were expecting us, and just as we prepared to enter, Gimli came hastening up accompanied by the Princess Korallein and her two guards.
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"I trust you feel no ill effects from your journey, gentlemen," remarked the Prince. "You are in the Steward's chambers in the citadel of Minas Tirith.
It is too late in the evening to commence your investigations. A room has been made ready for you. I suggest you take what rest you can, and tomorrow we will consider how to proceed."
The prnce bowed slightly, and with a slight gesture indicated a doorway in which a servant stood waiiting. The man appeared to notice nothing unusual in our appearance, but merely conducted us to a small chamber warmed by a glowing bronze brazier. Low stone benches were piled with rugs and cushions and an assortment of foreign clothing was laid out on a massive wooden chest in a corner. A small table held a pitcher of wine and a platter of dried meats, bread, cheese and preserved fruits.
Holmes rubbed his hands together briskly, always a sign of satisfaction with him. "This case looks to be most promising, apart from the novel surroundings," he commented, taking a quick turn about the room and pausing to peer through a narrow casement into the darkness. For myself, I felt a tremendous lassitude, and it was all I could do to divest myself of my bowler, coat and boots and lie down on one of the benches, being careful to place my trusty revolver beneath my pillow, before I fell asleep.
I was awakened by Holmes' hand on my shoulder, shaking me awake. "The sun is up, Watson, and the game is afoot. Get up at once." I sat up, reflecting ruefully that the introduction of bed springs to the Kingdom of Gondor would not come amiss. Holmes was, I observed, already dressed in foreign garb, consisting of loose trousers, a leather waiscoat and low boots, an embroidered tunic and hooded cloak. I hastened to rise and wash in the copper basin of hot water that stood by. In a few minutes I had clothed myself in garments similar to Holmes.' I found them not uncomfortable, but felt strangely uneasy without the familiar constriction of belt and braces, while my head, uncovered by my bowler, felt decidedly chilly.
The manservant appeared and conducted us to a larger room with high windows overlooking a broad and distant river, and mountains looming beyond. A cheerful fire burned in a wide hearth, and before it stood our host. A breakfast table laid for five stood near one of the windows. Above the mantel hung a life-size portrait of a striking figure--a beautiful young woman clad in a tunic of silver mail, her golden hair flowing loose around her shoulders and a long sword in her hands.
Our host noticed our interest, and spoke "That is a portrait of my betrothed, the Lady Eowyn of Rohan, also known as the Lady of the Shield Arm and the White Lady." Holmes and I hastened to offer our congratulations, and Holmes made a conventional inquiry as to the wedding date.
"It has not yet been determined," replied the Prince. "Lady Eowyn has many responsibilities in Rohan and feels obligated to assist her brother, King Eomer." I thought a shadow of vexation crossed his face as he spoke. He continued "Rohan is Gondor's oldest and most faithful ally, and even now a regiment of its cavalry is stationed in Minas Tirith."
We were interrupted by the entrance of two extraordindary figures. One was a tall, slender being with an exceptionally handsome but somewhat effeminate face. His pale hair flowed loosely down his back, and I noticed that his ears were sharply pointed. A long dagger hung at his hip. His face was curiously devoid of expression. His companion could not have been a greater contrast--scarcely more than four feet high, he was nearly as broad, and could have found occupation in a sideshow, so hairy was he. Bushy brows overhung small bright black eyes, and a vast beard grew from his cheekbones and covered him to the waist. The backs of his powerful hands were thickly matted with hair, and long braids hung down his back. A vicious-looking axe was tucked into his wide belt.
"Mr, Holmes, Dr. Watson, allow me to present Prince Legolas of the Woodland Elves and Gimli, Dwarf Lord of the Glittering Caves," said Prince Faramir as he led us to the breakfast table. "Your new garments become you excellently," he went on. "Your disguise while here will be that of visitors from the east, from beyond the Kingdom of Dale. As strangers your ignorance of many of our customs will seem natural, as will your curiosity and the questions you may need to ask.
"Let us sit down and refresh ourselves while we discuss the situation. Prince Legolas and Lord Gimli have known the King even longer than I, and it was Legolas' suggestion to use the Seeing Stone to search for help."
The elf spoke for the first time in a gentle, musical voice. "My heart tells me that no one from Gondor can solve this mystery, Mr. Holmes. Our whole dependence is on you."
"Aye," grunted the dwarf in deep grating tones. "There's no good to be done hunting under mattresses and in cupboards. If the stone is to be found in time, you must do it. And if my axe can help you, it is at your service."
Holmes bowed acknowlegement to the strange pair. "I think I would like to see the lady first," he stated. "Can you take me to her?" "At once, Mr. Holmes," replied Prince Faramir. The four of us (for the elf ate nothing) hastily swallowed the excellent porridge and sausages with which the table was furnished, and rose to go, myself secretly regretting the absence of my morning cup of tea.
The prince led the way quickly along spacious corridors and up broad staircases. He and Prince Legolas outpaced the dwarf with his short legs, and Holmes and I too found ourselves lagging behind. As we panted along, Holmes murmured confidentially to Lord Gimli "I fear I may have unintentionally offended Prince Faramir. He spoke of his betrothal but when I asked about the date of the nuptials, I thought he appeared annoyed. As a stranger in a very delicate position, I do not wish to offend."
Holmes ended his comment on a note of inquiry. The dwarf looked at Holmes sharply, hesitated, and then muttered "The lady has made and then cancelled two wedding dates. It's a sore subject with Lord Faramir and I advise you let it lie."
The prince and Legolas had paused to let us laggards catch up, and Holmes did no more than nod slightly in acknowledgement. We continued at a more moderate pace until at last we arrived at a small door guarded by two helmeted soldiers in black tunics emblazoned with a silver tree. They saluted and stood aside as the prince produced a heavy key and unlocked the door. Passing through it we five found ourselves in a spacious circular room, well lit by a large window and furnished in the rich but severe Gondorian style.
"My lords," said a low voice, and a tiny creature rose from a deep chair by the fireplace. Faramir's description of Princess Korallein, unflattering as it was, had nevertheless left me unprepared for her appearance. Nothing could have been more unlike the conventional idea of a seductress.
She was scarcely five feet tall, and extremely slender. She possessed nothing of the fine rosy color and healthy flesh of one of our English beauties, but had a sallow skin and rather sharp features. As she stood, I noticed a slight awkwardness in her stance, and my physician's eye identified a moderate case of scoliosis. Only the glossy black hair loosely knotted on her neck,
a pair of huge, lambent dark eyes, and a short, tender upper lip hinted at the appeal that had ensnared a king.
Faramir stepped forward and bowed slightly to the lady. "Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, the Princess Korellein.
Madam, these gentlemen have come to question you."
"Another interrogation?" smiled the princess, casting a challenging glance at Prince Faramir. "Last time you forced me to listen to twelve uninterrupted hours of elvish singing. If boredom could break me, I believe I would have succumbed in ten minutes. My lord, you know that I will never be unfaithful to my master."
"And faithful servants can expect to be rewarded," answered Faramir with a stern glance. "The laborer is worthy. . . ."
Holmes said nothing, merely regarding the lady fixedly. The dwarf growled something untelligible under his breath, while the elf prince simply gazed remotely into space. Then Holmes asked abruptly "Have you ever been in Rohan, Madam?"
I was startled by the unexpectedness and pointlessness of Holme's question. The lady stared in surprise, and then laughed mockingly. "Rohan!" she exclaimed, "Where the men are men and the women are. . . men, too." She hesitated for a second, glancing quickly at Prince Faramir, and continued, "No, I have never been in Rohan, nor in Lothlorien, where embroidery and polite conversation are a woman's sole occupation!" Laughing again, she turned away and resumed her seat.
I was shocked by the mocking contempt with which these words were uttered. Holmes seemed unmoved, and merely turned to Prince Faramir with "I have nothing more to ask. Shall we go?" The prince nodded his assent, and once more we all passed through the door, the prince locking it behind us and pausing briefly to speak to the guards. We descended several flights of stairs and then Faramir paused on a landing. Smiling slightly, he asked "Mr. Holmes, why did you ask Princess Korallein about Rohan?
"Your highness," Holmes answered, " sometimes it is useful to let the prisoner feel superior to the questioner. This sense of superiority will sometimes lead to a careless word or unintended hint. The Princess' fling at the women of Rohan and the elf ladies shows me that she has a very feminine resentment towards them, a resentment no doubt fueled by her own lack of beauty. You marked her slight deformation, did you not, Watson?"
I nodded agreement, and Holmes continued "The Princess is naturally inclined to pride herself upon her intelligence and wit by way of compensation. We may perhaps be able to use this vanity against her, and I may ask to see her again. But now, if I may, I would like to see the scene of the crime."
"Certainly, Mr. Holmes," answered Faramir. "Legolas, Gimli, will you accompany us?" The dwarf and elf both excused themselves, the elf inscrutable and remote as ever, while something in Gimli's glance suggested that he had expected more of Holmes than had hitherto been evinced.
The prince led Holmes and me along more corridors and staircases, until we arrived at an impressive portico fronting on a wide landing. We passed more of the black-clad guards and entered a lofty anteroom. The prince indicated seats along the walls. "Will you wait while I speak to the King? He will wish to see you, of course." Faramir vanished through a richly carved door, and we were left alone.
Holmes rubbed his hands together in a satisfied manner. "I think I begin to see a gleam of light, Watson." Then, abruptly, "What do you think of Prince Faramir?"
"Well," I replied thoughfully, "he seems most gentlemanly, and devoted to the King, though perhaps a little too eager to smooth over his failings."
"Yes, I had noticed that," replied Holmes, "but what I really wanted to know is, do you find the Prince attractive?"
I felt myself flushing, and replied "As I said, he seems a most gentlemanly person--as to his attractiveness, that is not something that I could be expected to appreciate."
"Very well, Watson," smiled Holmes, "let me phrase it this way--is the Prince, in your opinion, likely to be attractive to women? That mouth, combining softness and firmness, those unusual eyes, seeming always to be on the verge of a smile, that manly but caressing voice, the very beautiful hands--women notice a man's hands, Watson--in general, a combination of masculine strength with a certain sensuality: do you think these characteristics will appeal to women?"
Somewhat stiffly, I replied in the affirmative, Mrs. Hudson's uncharacteristic behavior recurring to my mind.
Our colloquy was interupted by the appearance of an elderly, soberly clad man--confidential servant might have been written across his forehead, so true was he to type--who bowed and ushered us into the inner room.
"Your Majesty," said Faramir, "may I present Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson who I hope can help us recover the Elf-Stone."
His Gondorian majesty was a very tall man, with gray eyes and dark hair slightly sprinkled with white. His expression was worn and anxious, but when he spoke a few words of welcome his voice was steady and courteous. During my medical studies I had encountered some of the practitioners of phrenology, and while being far from convinced of the soundness of their theories, I was interested to observe on the king's forehead the classic signs of a temperament at once resolute and steadfast, but rigid and slow of thought.
His garments were simple and practical, suggesting an outdoorsman rather than a king, and were in contrast to his surroundings. The large room with its many arched windows opening onto a deep balcony was richly furnished with tapestries and fur rugs, while the stone of walls and the wood of its furniture were fantastically carved with emblems representing (I presumed) the royal house of Gondor. Most prominent were representations of the white tree and a star, though various fantastic creatures sported on every surface and peered from corners.
The most conspicuous piece of furniture was a huge table standing against a wall, and laden with papers, dispatch boxes, files, and writing equipment. Its pale wood and rich golden mountings glowed softly in the subdued light. A series of compartmented wall cabinets nearby held hundreds of scrolls, neatly arranged and lableled.
Nevertheless, certain indications suggested that the King's true interests lay elsewhere. Riding boots, a bow and quiver of arrows, a falconer's glove, and fishing rods scattered around the room suggested a fondness for outdoor exercise, while two huge hounds watched us sleepily from the hearth.
An incongrous note was added by a steaming kettle hanging over the fire which exuded a strong medicinal smell. A slight thickness in his utterance and a tinge of pink to the royal nose suggested that his majesty was suffering from a heavy cold.
Holmes spoke, "May I have a description of the jewel, your majesty, and see where it is ordinarily kept?"
The king nodded and gestured toward an adjoining room. Prince Faramir bowed and escorted us out of the room, while the king remained behind, staring gloomily into the embers of the fire. The room we entered was obviously the royal dressing room, for chests and presses displayed clothing, while a simple washstand and tub occupied one corner. A dressing table bore a small mirror, combs and brushes, shaving tackle and the most amazing object I had ever seen--a great helmet of shining white metal bearing mother-of-pearl wings and ornamented with seven huge diamonds--any one of which would have created a sensation amongst the jewelers of Bond Street.
"The Crown of Gondor," explained the Prince. "The Elf-Stone hung from this hook by the mirror. It was--is-- a clear green stone the size of a small egg that shines with its own brilliance. It is set between silver wings a handspan in width."
"And these treasures simply stood in the open, never under lock and key?" asked Holmes.
"We in Gondor are not thieves, Mr. Holmes," answered the prince proudly. "At first the king thought that he must somehow have mislaid the stone, and only after privately questioning his personal servants did he think of Princess Korellein and the access she had to his chambers. He brought his doubts to me, I questioned her, and she immediately admitted to the theft."
"I thank your highness," responded Holmes, continuing his survey of the room. Here also there was evidence of the king's sporting avocations--fishing lures and lines tangled on the dressing table, a hunting knife on a chest, even, as Holmes discovered on casually opening a carved casket, a camp cooking outfit.
"I think we have seen enough, your highness," said Holmes. "I believe my researches will be best continued
elsewhere. Have I the King's permission to visit the royal archives, and may Watson leave the citadel on an errand in the city?"
"Of course," smiled Lord Faramir. "May the Valar speed your efforts!" The confidential servant appeared as if by magic and escorted us out a side door. Once we were in the corridor, Holmes signaled the man to wait and drew me aside. "Watson, find where the Rohirrim regiment is quartered and go there at once. Do not approach any of the officers, but seek out the grooms and servants--the lower orders. Find out all you can about the Lady Eowyn and her betrothal to Prince Faramir. Servants' gossip is what we need. When you have the information, return to the Prince's chambers and await me there. Now, off with you!" and he turned back to the waiting servant.
With the help of a passing lackey I found my way to the citadel entrance, where further inquiry directed me the the quarters of the Rohirrim regiment on the third level of the city. As I made my way downward through the crowded, sloping streets, I was impressed by the majesty of the city, with its vast white walls, towers, arches and domes. I was also struck by its extreme inconvenience, and reflected that a funicular such as one finds in the Alpine resorts would be a useful addition to the city's amenities.
Pressing onward through the variegated crowds, I was easily able to identify the native Gondorians by their tall stature, fair complexions, gray eyes and grave manner.
The reserve and dignity of their bearing reminded me of the Spanish gentry I had seen when my troop ship paused at Gibraltar on my voyage to Afghanistan. The darker, more vivacious Haradrim and rather sinister looking individuals called "Easterlings" stood in strong contrast.
At length I reached the Rohirrim quarters. Luckily, a groom was just leading in two magnificent horses from their morning exercise. A sincere compliment on their appearance, a flattering comment or two on the neatness and spaciouness of the stables, and I was soon in easy conversation with several grooms and a very voluble maidservant.
The grooms were fine, sturdy, blonde-haired fellows, and the maidservant was a picture of robust health and vigor. It was soon clear to me that my companions were intensely proud of their country, and convinced of its military superiority. While no one said so outright, I received a distinct impression that their opinion of the Gondorians as fighting men was not high, though King Elessar they seemed to regard almost as one of their own.
I ventured to say that I had heard that even the women of Rohan were fighters, and instantly I was overwhelmed with a paean of praise for the Lady Eowyn, with detailed accounts of her defeat of something or someone called the "Witch King." I was quite naturally able to inquire about her present occupations and whereabouts, and immediately the maidservant was in full flood about her engagement to Prince Faramir, the twice-delayed wedding, her trousseau. . . . One of the grooms snorted comtemptuously, and said everyone knew the lady regretted her engagement and "didn't want to spend her life tending flowers and reading poetry to patients in the Houses of Healing." Another interjected that things might change once King Eomer married Lothiriel of Dol Amroth come spring--Lady Eowyn could never play second fiddle to a sister-in-law. "Best take the bird at hand than fret for the one that got away," opined another, and was immediately shushed by the maidservant.
I judged that I had acquired the information Holmes sought, and the fortunitous appearance of a head groom with some sharp comments about "worthless layabouts and chattering females" gave occasion for my departure. Half an hour's climb up the steep streets brought me back to the citadel and the Steward's quarters, where I thankfully sat down to await Holme's return.
I had been waiting for two hours and was beginning to feel decidely peckish when Holmes entered hastily, accompanied by Prince Legolas and the the dwarf Gimli. I was alarmed by Holmes' appearance, for his clothing was dust-smeared, his face was bruised and a bandage encircled his temples.
Nevertheless, Holmes' spirits appeared to be buoyant.
"We are getting close to the secret, Watson!" he exclaimed. "I had a fruitful discussion with the Royal Archivist and then paid a visit in the guise of a casual idler to the back premises of the Haradian embassy. In making my way back to the citadel, I was fortunate to encounter Prince Legolas and Lord Gimli. As we were passing under a wall on the second level a huge stone fell from above, and had not Legolas' quick eyes caught a glimpse of it as it fell, and had not Gimli alertly thrust me out of its way, I most likely would be a corpse at this moment. The stone missed me completely, but it shattered and a frament struck my head. The cut is trifling " he added, seeing my look of concern, "and Legolas has bandaged it skillfully."
"An assassination attempt!" I exclaimed. "Have you any idea who may be behind it?"
"Legolas caught a glimpse of someone on the wall, but the figure's face was masked," replied Holmes. "Now Watson, what did you discover about the Lady Eowyn and Prince Faramir? Quickly, there is no time to be lost!"
I reported as concisely as I could what I had gleaned from the Rohirric servants. Gimli growled under his breath at intervals, and even the impassive elf showed signs of emotion during my narrative.
"Watson, the trail is warm and we may soon track the culprit to his lair. Legolas, will you go to the kings's chambers to request an audience for us, and Gimli, will you fetch the Princess from her confinement? I believe Prince Faramir is already in attendance on the King, so let us all join them at once."
The elf and dwarf left the room hastily, and Holmes asked "Have you your revolver, Watson?" 'Yes," I replied, "loaded and ready." "Bring it then, and be ready to use it, though I hope events will not require such extreme measures."
We left the room together, and guided by a servant, soon found ourselves outside the King's chambers. Legolas awaited us with the news that the King and Prince Faramir were expecting us, and just as we prepared to enter, Gimli came hastening up accompanied by the Princess Korallein and her two guards.
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