One glance out the window in the land of Drémeadow would suggest an unseasonably warm day for the last day of the year. Most of the hobbits bustling around the kingdom’s capital were devoid of the scarves, mittens and head coverings that were characteristic of winter garments.

 

 Dozens of Drémeadow’s denizens were congregated around the palace from which the royal family had ruled for five years. They were in dressier clothes than the rest of the hobbits around  Hardscrabble, with their curls carefully styled and held in place by clips and pins. The dresses, coats and trousers on the men, women and children  down to those young enough to be the height of cats were in the finest material the wearers could afford.  Five queues were forming outside the gate. Guards in garments of red, brown and gold  stood back at a distance, carefully watching the five at the front of the lines checking the  sheets of parchment in the hands of the respective families at the head.  Four of the five, ranging in age from their late teens to their early thirties, wore the most expensive garb out of everyone. Their gold jewelry and hair ornaments glistened in the sinking sun. The fifth, an armed and armored man in his late twenties who was positioned at the centered line, towered over the two lads to his left and the young hobbit-women to his right. He stood out compared to everyone owing to both his height and the gold armor that bore a crest that was not of Drémeadow. Despite his significant contrast to the hobbits around him, however, he was checking papers like the other four. Although a few heads were turning his direction, few of the hobbits paid any heed.

 

A particularly large family near front of the line headed by the youngest of the four hobbits checking lines was deep in discussion.  “I cannot believe it’s already becoming 3015. It feels like just yesterday the continental calculation hit 3000,” remarked a corpulent gentlehobbit with a blue cloak

 

“Will the party be any fun?” asked a tiny girl dubiously. “Or will it be the king or queen talking?”

 

“Don’t be daft,” a lad in his late teens snapped, “Folco’s family always throws good banquets. Plenty of eating, drinking and entertainment for all.”

 

“His Highness, or the royal family” hissed the brood’s mother so others nearby would not hear. “You might be a close friend of the prince, Lindo, but you are out in public and thus should refer to their Highnesses the Foxtrots the same way as everyone else must.”

 

The adolescent said, “Right. Give your Pre-New Years invitations here. I’ll give them to Prince Folco. The Whitbys are almost done.” As the tall, lanky prince signaled to the guards that the four hobbits in front of him were permitted to pass, Lindo stepped forward with a respectful bow of his head and presented the pile parchment. “Your Highness, the Rivers family.” He tucked his chin to his chest, waiting for the young prince to take them.

 

            The dark-haired prince smiled slightly as he accepted the parchment, halfheartedly thumbing through them. “Go on,” he whispered.  As the Riverses began to pass through the ornate wooden gate, Prince Folco took his pudgy subject by the elbow. “You know, you don’t have to bother with the niceties. How many times do I have to tell you? People know we’ve been friends since before we ever became a monarchy. It’s not exactly a state secret.”

 

            “Don’t be silly, others can hear,” Lindo whispered back to Prince Folco as the Rivers family exchanged discreet smiles with the prince. “Talk to you after if you have any time, okay?” He inclined his head one last time before rejoining his parents and younger siblings.

 

~*~*~

            Once the palace’s banquet hall was filled to capacity and wine had been distributed to the guests, the king and queen stood up. The king was first to speak. “Welcome, ladies and gentlehobbits, to the annual Pre-New Years Banquet. I am pleased to see each and every one of you present in my hall. My staff has my thanks for ensuring the banquet would be possible. I intend to keep my speech short-“ there were several appreciative smiles among the guests- “as I know everyone is hungry. We shall commence our feast with Queen Arabella leading us in a toast.” A smattering of applause ensued.

 

Queen Arabella’s fine-boned hand rose, holding her red wine aloft in the air. The tight golden-brown curls gathered by several gold clips into a long plait and topped by a small gold crown were immaculate. Though the lines in her face indicated middle age, her dark brown eyes were vivacious, her cheeks rosy with the glow reminiscent of youth. “My dear hobbits! Thank you all for taking the time and effort to travel here tonight despite the cold. I greatly appreciate seeing each and every one of you gathered here, as do King Hrothgar, Princess Nora, Princess Jillian, Prince Odo and Prince Folco.” The royal family, oldest to youngest, gave a wave at mention of their name.  “I invite you all to take part in a toast. Raise your glasses.” Crystal wine glasses rose to the ceiling all over the feast hall.

 

          “To a happy and prosperous 3015!” Arabella said. The rest of the hall echoed her. “To family and friendship!” Another echo. “To the health of all in Drémeadow!” At that, the queen began to drain her glass, followed by the rest of the royal family and all the guests.

 

Suddenly, Queen Arabella’s eyes went very wide. Her pupils contracted. Her rosy face blanched to white, then grey, then an ominous greenish hue as she began to gag and cough. The human stirred, sliding his chair back, staring at the ruler with a speculative face. Gasps, resonating cries and murmurs erupted among the guests.

 

A series of crashes reverberated around the hall as the Queen collapsed in convulsions, her long sleeve sweeping her plate, silverware and some of Princess Nora’s utensils off the High Table. One of her flailing arms struck her chair, knocking it sideways. Her grip loosened on her crystal glass. A dark purple stain spread on the white silk carpet covering the dais. The crystal glass rolled along the dais and off the platform, shattering upon the stone floor. There were several cries. Many of those sharing a table with the royal family left their seats, crowding around the thrashing queen. “Stand back! Give her air!” bellowed the panicked king, rushing from his seat to the side of his wife. He shoved aside Princess Nora and Prince Odo to get to his wife. “Out of my way!  All of you! Someone fetch a healer!”  The group dispersed, revealing the queen’s inert form. She’d gone utterly still, face ashen. The human stood, striding towards the anxious hobbits.

A lithe figure with long pointed ears and sweeping bottle-green robes with silver lining that highlighted his green eyes emerged from the chamber behind the High Table. The elf cut in front of the human, knelt over the queen, jet-black hair falling into his thin face. She had gone utterly still. He seized her wrist. His thin, straight eyebrows deepened into a frown. The bony hand hovered just above her mouth to feel for breath, then straightened her face and placed two fingers against Queen Arabella’s neck. Finally, his pinkies closed the inert hobbit’s eyelids over fixed and dilated brown eyes devoid of light.

 

Presently, several servants bore the lifeless queen out of the hall. The human sank into his chair in dismay. The two princes and two princesses looked fearfully at the goblets from whence they’d just imbibed their own wine.

 

The elf whispered something to the king, who turned very pale. His children, comprehending, shared expressions of mingled shock, disbelief and terror. The look in the elf’s jade eyes could chill one’s blood. The elf and the king exchanged whispered words impossible for anyone else to hear through the hullaballoo erupting in the hall.

 

Suddenly, the king stepped forward, extending a long finger towards the human, cheeks bright red spots against a white background.  Golden-brown eyes smoldered with fury. The human, a strapping young man with dark brown hair that fell to broad shoulders in waves, retreated a step, confused. “Paladin!” roared King Hrothgar. “How dare you! You enter my land, we grant you hospitality, and you repay us by taking away my wife’s breath and heartbeat with your poison! Leave at once!”

 

The king’s hall went dead silent. The paladin, astonished, looked at the king.  Most occupants of the High Table were utterly still except for the youngest Foxtrot, who fidgeted in his seat looking troubled.

 

“Good Highness,” Kiran protested, “I swear to you by my god Heironeous that I had absolutely nothing to do with this terrible deed! I swear on my honor I would never do commit such a heinous crime as murder. Especially not royalty!” A slight hum rose as the guests began murmuring their opinions.

 

“You lie!” accused the enraged king. The mutters among the guests intensified.

 

“I’m not lying, I swear it. Good Highness, I would take my own neck before slaying the Lady!” Kiran inhaled an aggrieved breath.  “Her Majesty is the fairest of all!”

 

“I don’t believe you.”

 

“What motive would I have?” the frustrated paladin challenged while the youngest prince took a tentative step forward.

 

 The king’s face flushed puce. “You dare ask me to fathom the mind of a murderer? Leave at once, before I decide to eschew continental protocol and have you killed now despite your diplomatic immunity!” He slammed a fist on the table beside him. “You are the Benoits’ vassal, yes? Did Cancalia order this?”

 

            “Duke Ivan Benoit did nothing wrong!” The voice of the human, incensed at the implication, rose almost to a shout.. “His Grace has nothing to do with this! Nor have I!” The guests fell silent again, listening. Prince Folco scuffed the toe of his boot into the ground, looking more uncomfortable than ever. “Please, Your Majesty, I could prove my innocence. Paladins can’t do a malicious deed like this and still…”

 

Folco dashed forward, ducking under the elf’s attempt to stop him, placing himself between the paladin and the king, staring at his father. King Hrothgar looked at his son in surprise. “Folco, this is not the proper time…”

 

            “Father, he didn’t do it!” interjected the prince vehemently. “There’s no way! I saw him, he was nowhere near the kitchen! He couldn’t have…”

 

Hrothgar shook his head dismissively. “There was quite a lot to supervise and do in there. He might easily have slipped past, even if he is double our race’s size.”

 

Folco emitted a sharp breath, throwing up his hands. “Kiran was nearby while Lindo, his siblings and cousins, and I were playing Hide and Seek this afternoon, I saw him. Him and his friend Nont’im! He’s innocent, he must be, he can’t be two places at once!”

 

The king’s voice went forebodingly low. The guests towards the front of the tables leaned forward to hear. “Wait. Are you telling me that you disobeyed my orders? You were to be in the kitchen.”

 

A stricken expression flitted across the eighteen-year-old’s face. “Yes,” the prince said impatiently, “I did, I’m sorry, but that’s not the point, I-“

 

“We will discuss this later.” There was a note of finality.

 

            “But…” Folco spluttered desperately, “please listen… I’m trying to tell-“

 

“That. Is. Enough.”

 

 “Kiran didn’t do it, he couldn’t have, he was there all afternoon and then helping the servants while we got ready! I’m begging you, please! Hear me out!”

 

  “I will say no more.” The king nudged his son aside, moving closer to the flabbergasted human. The prince jumped off the dais, virtually running to Lindo. A few sets of eyes followed him but most remained on the paladin and the king, who did not notice his son, too fixated was he on denigrating the paladin. “Now. You heard what I said before.  Get out, unless you prefer death. I do not want you ever disgracing my kingdom with your presence again.” Meanwhile, news of the proceedings had spread quickly from front to back. The atmosphere was charged with discord.  Reactions varied from distress to amazement to grief to terror.

 

Presently, the prince returned to the platform, his dubious friend beside him. The king remained fixated on the paladin. His golden-brown eyes fell upon the two youths, but he ignored them. “You dare defy me?” he said.

 

“Your Majesty,” Kiran replied pleadingly, “please, I beg you to continue investigation before condemning me. Put me on trial, even. With all due respect to Your Highness, you are making a terrible-“

 

            “I have many things to do other than wasting time further proving your guilt,” snapped Drémeadow’s king.

 

“Father! Please…” a tentative Folco Foxtrot began.

 

 The king glared at the youngest of his progeny. “Did I not say we will speak later?”

 

“But  Lindo was with me, he also knows-“

 

            “Do not answer back! I don’t need you wasting any more of my time.

 

 Lindo reached up, grasping Folco’s shoulder.  The prince bracingly returned the gesture. Catching the eye of the king and inclining his head respectfully, Lindo said “Your Majesty…”

 

            Hrothgar retorted “that is quite enough from the both of you. I’ve greater problems than you two.”

 

 Lindo looked at the ground but Folco stared defiantly back. The king’s face was devoid of clemency and understanding. Folco was first to break the staredown. Shaking his head forlornly, the prince tilted his head towards his father, who looked away in dismissal, then muttered something to his friend. “You could at least give him a fair trial,” the adolescent snapped resentfully before leading Lindo back to his family

 

Most seats were vacant. Small clusters of hobbits merged into larger group. Halfling guards fidgeted on the outside perimeter, torn between awaiting orders and taking action. “Now. This is your final chance. Leave Drémeadow at once or face a well-deserved execution for the blood you have shed! And spare me comments on intracontinental protocol! Guards!”  The squirming hobbits and the eager orcs subsided. Orcs and hobbits alike formed a line in front of the High Table, erect, motionless, attention rapt on the agitated guests.  Several guests stepped forward, forming a line at the front of the room. They appeared wary of the guards and stood about eight feet away, but nonetheless something had emboldened them.

 

“Your Majesty, His Highness is just a lad but he’s right,” entreated an elderly hobbit, “there should be a trial.”

 

“We know you’re upset, anyone would be, but please be reasonable…”

 

“Forgive me, Your Highness, but you’re not being very just in this…”

 

“You’re making a terrible mistake!”

 

The king looked, if possible, angrier. His neck, face and ears were virtually the crimson of blood in his wrath. “How dare you!” he roared. “Who is king? The murderer or me?! Your duty is to be loyal to your king! Anyone who would side with the man who just slew your queen over me is a traitor! You know the penalty for treason!” The hobbits imploring for a fair dealing looked stricken and afraid. 

 

“But Your Majesty, please!”

 

 “We are not traitors, we are trying to…”

 

The enraged king quavered with choler, hands balled into fists. “Silence!” he bellowed. “Paladin! Why are you still here?”
  

Kiran turned around. “You said these subjects are traitors.” He nodded at the swelling group. “They are not. They merely seek proper justice,” he said quietly. “That is not treason. I will leave, but do not punish them for suggesting a fair trial, that is no crime.”

 

Several of the supporters actually clapped their hands two or three times before remembering themselves and subsiding. “If he leaves, I’m going with him, I’m sure he’s innocent!” Several echoed agreement.

 

The king straightened to full height. “NO!” he bellowed. "You are all going to stay right here! If you depart from this hall before I give you permission you are clearly on the side of the assassin! Leave, and you are guilty of treason and receive punishment befitting defectors and traitors! My word is law. Paladin, get out or die!”

 

However, King Hrothgar’s threat had not cowed the brave halflings defending the paladin’s right to a just investigation. As a collective unit, they moved close to Kiran.  Without warning, the king’s face changed to a very ugly look. “Guards… seize them! Use force if you must!”

 

            “No!” shouted the human as the scraping of steel sounded around the hall. Screams began to erupt as the orcs rushed upon the king’s unarmed and helpless subjects.