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b2mem2016-03-23 07:12 pm
mysterious-jedi.livejournal.com) wrote in b2mem2016-03-23 07:12 pm
Saving the Steward by Mysterious Jedi
B2MeM Challenge:2016 Memories and 2012 Bingo
Format:short story
Genre: AU
Rating:T
Warnings: canonical attempted suicide/homicide
Characters: Beregond, Faramir, Denethor, Gandalf, Pippin, Aragorn, Imrahil
Pairings:n/a
Creators' Notes (optional):Written for B2MEM 2016, using the 2012 Bingo Cards. I used the number B15, which was “diplomat” for “Facets of Faramir” as well as “Denethor Never Dies” on the “AU: Who Lives, Who Dies?” card.
Summary:Beregond is able to save Denethor as well as Faramir.
Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to Tolkien Enterprises. I have no affiliation with Tolkien Enterprises or New Line Cinemas. I make no profit on this. Lines in italics are quoted from Return of the King, by J.R.R. Tolkien.
When Master Peregrin bade me save Faramir, I was loathe to leave my post. However, as the halfling spoke I realized that I could not abandon Captain Faramir to death if it was in my power to save him. In my haste, I eliminated every obstacle in my path, including the unfortunate guard at the door. Lord Denethor had grown quite mad, I know not why, save that his grief must have been great and the siege heavy upon his heart. I killed two more men to keep Lord Denethor from lighting the fire, but he would not be dissuaded.
Mithrandir could not catch him when he grabbed the torch. Before Lord Denethor could rush back into his tomb, I tackled him to the ground. My wrestling skills were fresh, since I had been teaching Bergil. The Steward struggled. He thrashed and scratched and even bit, but I did not release my hold.
Finally, Pippin extinguished the torch, and Lord Denethor went limp beneath me.
"Traitor! Fool! I should have died free, with my last remaining son. Now we shall both die in the siege, or worse, as slaves to the darkness."
"My lord Denethor, have you no hope? The battle is not over yet."
"One does not need the foresight of my ancestors to see that doom is upon us. Servants! Slay this traitor!"
Pippin gasped. I closed my eyes, resigned to my fate.
Before my execution could be completed, Mithrandir took hold of me and ushered me out of the presence of the Steward.
"Do not kill this man." He said to the servants. "He has saved the House of Hurin, even as he betrayed it."
The servants looked at each other, and then at Mithrandir, and then at me. Mithrandir’s gaze remained on them and never wavered. “You have done your duty this day,” he said softly. “Go and tend to your Steward, but do not allow him to venture near flame.”
They did as he asked. I helped Mithrandir bear Faramir to the Houses of Healing. My one prayer was that he would live. Otherwise this would all be for naught.
"Be at peace. You have saved two noble men today." Mithrandir said.
"What peace is there for me? For I have become a traitor and a murderer. The Steward can never forgive me this, and if my lord is against me, what hope do I have?"
"Hope for a better lord to come."
"But Lord Denethor lives, and even if Faramir survives his wounds it will be many years before he becomes the Steward."
"I said nothing of Faramir. He may never live to be Ruling Steward, but you have hope yet."
Before I could ask what he meant, he rushed back into the fray, leaving me to stand watch over the man I had risked so much to save.
***
“Father!” Bergil panted. “Are you well? Is Captain Faramir? And Pippin? I’ve brought some of the kingsfoil they were asking for.”
“Go on in, son. Give it to Lord Aragorn.”
I waited outside the door and maintained my watch. A wholesome scent filled the air, like wildflowers and rain and fresh-baked bread all rolled into one. Some of the tension drained out of my neck and shoulders. Who knew a small herb could have such an effect? At length, I heard Faramir’s voice through the door.
“My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command?”
“Walk no more in the shadows, but awake!” said Aragorn. 'You are weary. Rest a while, and take food, and be ready when I return.”
“I will, lord,” said Faramir. “For who would lie idle when the king has returned?”
The King. So this must be who Mithrandir meant when he spoke of a better lord. But would Denethor allow such? Even if he did, how long could Minas Tirith stand against the might of Sauron? I did not know anything about this newcomer, but Faramir clearly accepted him as King, and that was enough for me.
“My lord,” I bowed as Lord Aragorn emerged.
He nodded in return. “Beregond. Get some rest. Faramir will recover now, I think.”
He knew my name? I felt myself smiling even as I blinked back tears. “Thank you, my lord. Thank you.”
***
With Lord Denethor still confined to his quarters, clearly unwell, I was permitted to march to the Morannon with the Host of the West. I saw little hope in a siege on Mordor, but I was eager to fight nevertheless. Better to go down fighting than to sit around waiting to be killed or enslaved. Pippin marched beside me.
I had never known so cheerful a soldier as Pippin, and yet his face grew grim as we watched Mithrandir parley with the Mouth of Sauron. I gathered that a kinsman of his had been on a mission within Mordor. He had failed, it seemed.
All was dark. We stood on a hill, near the banner of Dol Amroth. Men and orcs swarmed about us, and we were surrounded.
All other thoughts fled my mind as I fought the hordes. Then the trolls were upon us. They crushed our men into the hill like a mortar in a pestle. A club crashed into me, denting my armor. I fell to the ground, and there I lay, certain that my end was nigh. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Pippin’s sword thrust upward into the troll. Then the troll fell, and I knew no more.
***
When I awoke, I lying on the blanket-covered grass, somewhere on the Fields of Cormallen. Pippin sat beside me. He looked about as bad as I felt.
“Beregond, you’re awake! We won, did you know? My cousin destroyed the Ring. Sauron is gone now, and the Eagles have brought Frodo and Sam back. We’re just waiting for them to recover a bit, and then we’ll go to Minas Tirith for the coronation.” Pippin spoke all in one breath. How could someone so small have such a lung capacity?
“That is well,” I said. “Pippin, may I ask you a question?”
He nodded eagerly.
“How well do you know Lord Aragorn? Is he truly the heir of Isildur?”
“He is a good man, and I have traveled with him for many leagues.” Pippin answered. “He really is the King, though it took me months to realize it. He can seem like a commoner, or even a ruffian, when it suits him. Still, I’ve never met anyone braver or more noble.”
“It will be good to have the King returned. I hope Lord Denethor does not try to detain him. Perhaps the politics would have been simpler if the Steward had died.”
“Maybe, but simpler isn’t always better. I’m glad you saved him. We’ve lost enough people as it is.”
“Aye, that is so. It grieves my heart that I have contributed to that number.”
“Well, you couldn’t have just left Denethor to burn himself and his son alive, could you? I’m sure Strider’ll understand, too. ”
“Strider?”
“Lord Aragorn, that is. Sorry, I’m still getting used to the fact that he’s the King.”
I did not say anything to that. I could not even imagine referring to the King in such a manner. Perhaps customs were different among Pippin’s folk.
***
"Beregond, your king summons you to his tent."
I had mostly recovered from my troll wounds, although I could still walk but slowly. I followed the messenger to Lord Aragorn's tent. When I was arrived, I was grateful for the need to bow, as it gave me a moment to gather my thoughts without looking into anyone's eyes. Aragorn and Prince Imrahil were present, as I had expected, and with them sat the Steward of Gondor and his son.
"So you have brought a traitor, Grey Pilgrim." Lord Denethor said. "Is this how you will convince me to accept this Ranger's claim? By bringing a soldier who deserted his post and defied his master's will?"
"Beregond saved the line of Stewards from ruin, Denethor.” Mithrandir said. “He has proved his loyalty. And you would do well not to defy your master. For who is your lord if not Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur?"
"Heir of Isildur indeed! The rule of Minas Tirith always belonged to Anarion's line in days of yore."
"That line is ended, but the line of Elendil endures."
"Welcome, Beregond." Lord Aragorn interrupted the verbal duel. "Come and take a seat. We were just discussing how to handle my return to the City. I asked you here because you are a man of Gondor, and because you witnessed the Steward's doings during the siege."
I bowed in acknowledgement, wiping the sweat from my palms onto my trousers. Must I be caught up in a meeting of such lordly folk? I took the seat next to Faramir and evaded the Steward's eyes.
"I do not see any room for debate," Prince Imrahil said. "You are the returned king. All that remains is to plan the celebrations."
"What proof has this man given you that his claim is even true?" Denethor asked.
"I have the Ring of Barahir and Anduril, forged from the shards of Narsil. My foster father, Lord Elrond, has in his keeping the other tokens of my line."
"How do we know that these tokens are even real? And what of Elrond Half-Elven? Where was he when Minas Tirith was besieged?" Spittle flew from the Steward’s mouth as he spoke.
"Father, I know that you are frustrated, but should we not hear all the facts before we render judgment?" Faramir said calmly.
"You know that Aragorn's claim is true, Denethor.” Gandalf broke in. “Even when he ventured into the city as Thorongil, you knew it was true. Why else would Ecthelion favor him over his own son?"
Denethor's face turned red with rage.
"How dare you use my father against me, Grey Pilgrim? He was desperate, for the Shadows grew in the East. It was out of desperation that he grew to love a sell sword from the wilds of the North."
"Excuse me, my lords," Faramir said, "but perhaps we should speak one at a time. If this meets with my king's approval?"
He looked to Lord Aragorn. Denethor glowered.
"Very well, Faramir. Lord Denethor, perhaps you could give us your side first?"
That was very merciful. Lord Denethor didn't seem to deserve any chance to speak at all.
“It is true that this man served as Captain Thorongil many years ago. He made no claim on the throne, though, and he abandoned us just after the routing of the Corsairs.”
“You mean he returned to the people of the North after he saved us from the Corsairs!” Imrahil objected.
“Peace, Uncle,” Faramir said. “Lord Aragorn has allowed my father the first word. There will be a chance for all to speak.”
“So he abandoned us,” Denethor repeated, “and I was left to stand watch over Gondor as the threat of Sauron grew. I sent one son to Imladris, but he was lost to me. The other has become a wizard’s pupil. Then this fellow shows up in the midst of chaos and tries to supplant me.”
“I had indeed returned to the North,” Aragorn said, “but not for want of love toward Gondor or her people. The time was not yet right to reveal myself. I returned because the need was great. I would not otherwise have chosen to take the Paths of the Dead.” Aragorn said. “Faramir, you are the Steward’s only living son. What are your thoughts?”
“My father has indeed guarded Minas Tirith for many years.” Faramir said. “His will has held the city together in defiance of the Enemy. About a year ago, I had a dream about Isildur’s Bane being at Rivendell. Boromir dreamed of it also, and father chose to send him in my place.”
“Boromir knew his duty!” Denethor shouted. “He would have brought me the Ring!”
“And if he had, we would be dead or slaves of Sauron now!” Gandalf said.
“Boromir went to Rivendell,” Faramir continued, “and it was not until I met with Frodo and Sam in Ithillien that I learned his fate.”
“You met with the Ringbearer?” Denethor shouted. “And allowed him to leave with the Ring? Faramir, your life is forfeit!”
Faramir bowed his head, but continued speaking. “I knew my father’s will, but it seemed to me that the Ring was too powerful for any mortal to use. I allowed Frodo and Sam to continue toward Mordor, and I would do so again given the chance, for Sauron is defeated now. Is that not what we all wanted?”
Denethor grunted. Lord Aragorn placed a hand on Faramir’s shoulder. “You judged rightly, Faramir, and our freedom is owed in part to you. Please continue your tale. What can you tell us of your father’s actions?”
“Thank you, my lord. As I said, my father had long watched over Gondor. He wished me to retake Osgiliath. I attempted to do his bidding, but it was not to be. Then I was wounded on the Pelennor and was brought before my father. My memories of that time are rather hazy, but I remember that he kept mourning me as if I were dead.”
“That is when Pippin came to get me,” said Mithrandir. “He told me of Denethor’s madness and pleaded for me to save Faramir. I would have been too late to save either, had not Beregond here intervened.”
“And slain three men within Rath Dinen!” Denethor glared at me.
“I regret their deaths, my lords.” I said. “I can claim no excuse save that of great haste. Peregrin had asked me for aid, and I could think only of saving my lord Faramir. Perhaps I went about it wrong, but I am glad I succeeded in that mission.”
“As am I,” Lord Aragorn said. “Do not be afraid. You witnessed it, then? Can you verify for us that Denethor tried to burn himself and his son alive?”
“Aye, my lord. The Steward was caught in madness.” I tried not to look at Lord Denethor.
“I can attest to that as well,” said Prince Imrahil, “for I tried to tell him that his son was alive, but he would not heed me.”
Aragorn nodded slowly. “So Denethor was not thinking clearly, and Beregond saved him and Faramir. The question remains, what are we to do about my return? The city has been all but destroyed by war; she does not need strife between her lords.”
“The city needs her king,” Faramir said. “As for my father, if you would have mercy, my lord, I would remove myself to Ithillien, and take him with me as soon as all is prepared. Perhaps away from the city he can regain some clarity of purpose.”
“I can still hear you!” Denethor said.
“I know, Father, but you truly have not been yourself of late. I know that your heart has always been for Gondor. What could be better for Gondor than the defeat of Sauron and the return of the King? The time of the Stewards is past.”
“The time of the Ruling Stewards is past.” Lord Aragorn corrected. “If it seems well to the rest of you, then, I shall keep Denethor confined for the time being. Lord Elrond will come ere long; it may be that he has some insight into healing this sickness of mind. Once I am crowned King, I will appoint Faramir as my Steward in place of his father.”
This seemed good to everyone except Lord Denethor, and so it was done.
***
No one could have been happier than I when the King made Faramir Prince of Ithillien. He deserved it, for his years of service. As for me, I found mercy, mingled with just enough justice to assuage my conscience. I had to leave the city I loved, but I was allowed to serve my prince in Ithillien.
I live here still, with my wife and children. Faramir is a good lord. Even Denethor has softened some, now that the threat of Mordor has passed. He lavishes his love upon young Elboron. The Prince’s young son can even make the old man laugh, at times. I am glad I stopped Denethor from killing himself and his son. Now that he has recovered, I think Denethor himself is glad also.
Format:short story
Genre: AU
Rating:T
Warnings: canonical attempted suicide/homicide
Characters: Beregond, Faramir, Denethor, Gandalf, Pippin, Aragorn, Imrahil
Pairings:n/a
Creators' Notes (optional):Written for B2MEM 2016, using the 2012 Bingo Cards. I used the number B15, which was “diplomat” for “Facets of Faramir” as well as “Denethor Never Dies” on the “AU: Who Lives, Who Dies?” card.
Summary:Beregond is able to save Denethor as well as Faramir.
Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to Tolkien Enterprises. I have no affiliation with Tolkien Enterprises or New Line Cinemas. I make no profit on this. Lines in italics are quoted from Return of the King, by J.R.R. Tolkien.
When Master Peregrin bade me save Faramir, I was loathe to leave my post. However, as the halfling spoke I realized that I could not abandon Captain Faramir to death if it was in my power to save him. In my haste, I eliminated every obstacle in my path, including the unfortunate guard at the door. Lord Denethor had grown quite mad, I know not why, save that his grief must have been great and the siege heavy upon his heart. I killed two more men to keep Lord Denethor from lighting the fire, but he would not be dissuaded.
Mithrandir could not catch him when he grabbed the torch. Before Lord Denethor could rush back into his tomb, I tackled him to the ground. My wrestling skills were fresh, since I had been teaching Bergil. The Steward struggled. He thrashed and scratched and even bit, but I did not release my hold.
Finally, Pippin extinguished the torch, and Lord Denethor went limp beneath me.
"Traitor! Fool! I should have died free, with my last remaining son. Now we shall both die in the siege, or worse, as slaves to the darkness."
"My lord Denethor, have you no hope? The battle is not over yet."
"One does not need the foresight of my ancestors to see that doom is upon us. Servants! Slay this traitor!"
Pippin gasped. I closed my eyes, resigned to my fate.
Before my execution could be completed, Mithrandir took hold of me and ushered me out of the presence of the Steward.
"Do not kill this man." He said to the servants. "He has saved the House of Hurin, even as he betrayed it."
The servants looked at each other, and then at Mithrandir, and then at me. Mithrandir’s gaze remained on them and never wavered. “You have done your duty this day,” he said softly. “Go and tend to your Steward, but do not allow him to venture near flame.”
They did as he asked. I helped Mithrandir bear Faramir to the Houses of Healing. My one prayer was that he would live. Otherwise this would all be for naught.
"Be at peace. You have saved two noble men today." Mithrandir said.
"What peace is there for me? For I have become a traitor and a murderer. The Steward can never forgive me this, and if my lord is against me, what hope do I have?"
"Hope for a better lord to come."
"But Lord Denethor lives, and even if Faramir survives his wounds it will be many years before he becomes the Steward."
"I said nothing of Faramir. He may never live to be Ruling Steward, but you have hope yet."
Before I could ask what he meant, he rushed back into the fray, leaving me to stand watch over the man I had risked so much to save.
***
“Father!” Bergil panted. “Are you well? Is Captain Faramir? And Pippin? I’ve brought some of the kingsfoil they were asking for.”
“Go on in, son. Give it to Lord Aragorn.”
I waited outside the door and maintained my watch. A wholesome scent filled the air, like wildflowers and rain and fresh-baked bread all rolled into one. Some of the tension drained out of my neck and shoulders. Who knew a small herb could have such an effect? At length, I heard Faramir’s voice through the door.
“My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command?”
“Walk no more in the shadows, but awake!” said Aragorn. 'You are weary. Rest a while, and take food, and be ready when I return.”
“I will, lord,” said Faramir. “For who would lie idle when the king has returned?”
The King. So this must be who Mithrandir meant when he spoke of a better lord. But would Denethor allow such? Even if he did, how long could Minas Tirith stand against the might of Sauron? I did not know anything about this newcomer, but Faramir clearly accepted him as King, and that was enough for me.
“My lord,” I bowed as Lord Aragorn emerged.
He nodded in return. “Beregond. Get some rest. Faramir will recover now, I think.”
He knew my name? I felt myself smiling even as I blinked back tears. “Thank you, my lord. Thank you.”
***
With Lord Denethor still confined to his quarters, clearly unwell, I was permitted to march to the Morannon with the Host of the West. I saw little hope in a siege on Mordor, but I was eager to fight nevertheless. Better to go down fighting than to sit around waiting to be killed or enslaved. Pippin marched beside me.
I had never known so cheerful a soldier as Pippin, and yet his face grew grim as we watched Mithrandir parley with the Mouth of Sauron. I gathered that a kinsman of his had been on a mission within Mordor. He had failed, it seemed.
All was dark. We stood on a hill, near the banner of Dol Amroth. Men and orcs swarmed about us, and we were surrounded.
All other thoughts fled my mind as I fought the hordes. Then the trolls were upon us. They crushed our men into the hill like a mortar in a pestle. A club crashed into me, denting my armor. I fell to the ground, and there I lay, certain that my end was nigh. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Pippin’s sword thrust upward into the troll. Then the troll fell, and I knew no more.
***
When I awoke, I lying on the blanket-covered grass, somewhere on the Fields of Cormallen. Pippin sat beside me. He looked about as bad as I felt.
“Beregond, you’re awake! We won, did you know? My cousin destroyed the Ring. Sauron is gone now, and the Eagles have brought Frodo and Sam back. We’re just waiting for them to recover a bit, and then we’ll go to Minas Tirith for the coronation.” Pippin spoke all in one breath. How could someone so small have such a lung capacity?
“That is well,” I said. “Pippin, may I ask you a question?”
He nodded eagerly.
“How well do you know Lord Aragorn? Is he truly the heir of Isildur?”
“He is a good man, and I have traveled with him for many leagues.” Pippin answered. “He really is the King, though it took me months to realize it. He can seem like a commoner, or even a ruffian, when it suits him. Still, I’ve never met anyone braver or more noble.”
“It will be good to have the King returned. I hope Lord Denethor does not try to detain him. Perhaps the politics would have been simpler if the Steward had died.”
“Maybe, but simpler isn’t always better. I’m glad you saved him. We’ve lost enough people as it is.”
“Aye, that is so. It grieves my heart that I have contributed to that number.”
“Well, you couldn’t have just left Denethor to burn himself and his son alive, could you? I’m sure Strider’ll understand, too. ”
“Strider?”
“Lord Aragorn, that is. Sorry, I’m still getting used to the fact that he’s the King.”
I did not say anything to that. I could not even imagine referring to the King in such a manner. Perhaps customs were different among Pippin’s folk.
***
"Beregond, your king summons you to his tent."
I had mostly recovered from my troll wounds, although I could still walk but slowly. I followed the messenger to Lord Aragorn's tent. When I was arrived, I was grateful for the need to bow, as it gave me a moment to gather my thoughts without looking into anyone's eyes. Aragorn and Prince Imrahil were present, as I had expected, and with them sat the Steward of Gondor and his son.
"So you have brought a traitor, Grey Pilgrim." Lord Denethor said. "Is this how you will convince me to accept this Ranger's claim? By bringing a soldier who deserted his post and defied his master's will?"
"Beregond saved the line of Stewards from ruin, Denethor.” Mithrandir said. “He has proved his loyalty. And you would do well not to defy your master. For who is your lord if not Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur?"
"Heir of Isildur indeed! The rule of Minas Tirith always belonged to Anarion's line in days of yore."
"That line is ended, but the line of Elendil endures."
"Welcome, Beregond." Lord Aragorn interrupted the verbal duel. "Come and take a seat. We were just discussing how to handle my return to the City. I asked you here because you are a man of Gondor, and because you witnessed the Steward's doings during the siege."
I bowed in acknowledgement, wiping the sweat from my palms onto my trousers. Must I be caught up in a meeting of such lordly folk? I took the seat next to Faramir and evaded the Steward's eyes.
"I do not see any room for debate," Prince Imrahil said. "You are the returned king. All that remains is to plan the celebrations."
"What proof has this man given you that his claim is even true?" Denethor asked.
"I have the Ring of Barahir and Anduril, forged from the shards of Narsil. My foster father, Lord Elrond, has in his keeping the other tokens of my line."
"How do we know that these tokens are even real? And what of Elrond Half-Elven? Where was he when Minas Tirith was besieged?" Spittle flew from the Steward’s mouth as he spoke.
"Father, I know that you are frustrated, but should we not hear all the facts before we render judgment?" Faramir said calmly.
"You know that Aragorn's claim is true, Denethor.” Gandalf broke in. “Even when he ventured into the city as Thorongil, you knew it was true. Why else would Ecthelion favor him over his own son?"
Denethor's face turned red with rage.
"How dare you use my father against me, Grey Pilgrim? He was desperate, for the Shadows grew in the East. It was out of desperation that he grew to love a sell sword from the wilds of the North."
"Excuse me, my lords," Faramir said, "but perhaps we should speak one at a time. If this meets with my king's approval?"
He looked to Lord Aragorn. Denethor glowered.
"Very well, Faramir. Lord Denethor, perhaps you could give us your side first?"
That was very merciful. Lord Denethor didn't seem to deserve any chance to speak at all.
“It is true that this man served as Captain Thorongil many years ago. He made no claim on the throne, though, and he abandoned us just after the routing of the Corsairs.”
“You mean he returned to the people of the North after he saved us from the Corsairs!” Imrahil objected.
“Peace, Uncle,” Faramir said. “Lord Aragorn has allowed my father the first word. There will be a chance for all to speak.”
“So he abandoned us,” Denethor repeated, “and I was left to stand watch over Gondor as the threat of Sauron grew. I sent one son to Imladris, but he was lost to me. The other has become a wizard’s pupil. Then this fellow shows up in the midst of chaos and tries to supplant me.”
“I had indeed returned to the North,” Aragorn said, “but not for want of love toward Gondor or her people. The time was not yet right to reveal myself. I returned because the need was great. I would not otherwise have chosen to take the Paths of the Dead.” Aragorn said. “Faramir, you are the Steward’s only living son. What are your thoughts?”
“My father has indeed guarded Minas Tirith for many years.” Faramir said. “His will has held the city together in defiance of the Enemy. About a year ago, I had a dream about Isildur’s Bane being at Rivendell. Boromir dreamed of it also, and father chose to send him in my place.”
“Boromir knew his duty!” Denethor shouted. “He would have brought me the Ring!”
“And if he had, we would be dead or slaves of Sauron now!” Gandalf said.
“Boromir went to Rivendell,” Faramir continued, “and it was not until I met with Frodo and Sam in Ithillien that I learned his fate.”
“You met with the Ringbearer?” Denethor shouted. “And allowed him to leave with the Ring? Faramir, your life is forfeit!”
Faramir bowed his head, but continued speaking. “I knew my father’s will, but it seemed to me that the Ring was too powerful for any mortal to use. I allowed Frodo and Sam to continue toward Mordor, and I would do so again given the chance, for Sauron is defeated now. Is that not what we all wanted?”
Denethor grunted. Lord Aragorn placed a hand on Faramir’s shoulder. “You judged rightly, Faramir, and our freedom is owed in part to you. Please continue your tale. What can you tell us of your father’s actions?”
“Thank you, my lord. As I said, my father had long watched over Gondor. He wished me to retake Osgiliath. I attempted to do his bidding, but it was not to be. Then I was wounded on the Pelennor and was brought before my father. My memories of that time are rather hazy, but I remember that he kept mourning me as if I were dead.”
“That is when Pippin came to get me,” said Mithrandir. “He told me of Denethor’s madness and pleaded for me to save Faramir. I would have been too late to save either, had not Beregond here intervened.”
“And slain three men within Rath Dinen!” Denethor glared at me.
“I regret their deaths, my lords.” I said. “I can claim no excuse save that of great haste. Peregrin had asked me for aid, and I could think only of saving my lord Faramir. Perhaps I went about it wrong, but I am glad I succeeded in that mission.”
“As am I,” Lord Aragorn said. “Do not be afraid. You witnessed it, then? Can you verify for us that Denethor tried to burn himself and his son alive?”
“Aye, my lord. The Steward was caught in madness.” I tried not to look at Lord Denethor.
“I can attest to that as well,” said Prince Imrahil, “for I tried to tell him that his son was alive, but he would not heed me.”
Aragorn nodded slowly. “So Denethor was not thinking clearly, and Beregond saved him and Faramir. The question remains, what are we to do about my return? The city has been all but destroyed by war; she does not need strife between her lords.”
“The city needs her king,” Faramir said. “As for my father, if you would have mercy, my lord, I would remove myself to Ithillien, and take him with me as soon as all is prepared. Perhaps away from the city he can regain some clarity of purpose.”
“I can still hear you!” Denethor said.
“I know, Father, but you truly have not been yourself of late. I know that your heart has always been for Gondor. What could be better for Gondor than the defeat of Sauron and the return of the King? The time of the Stewards is past.”
“The time of the Ruling Stewards is past.” Lord Aragorn corrected. “If it seems well to the rest of you, then, I shall keep Denethor confined for the time being. Lord Elrond will come ere long; it may be that he has some insight into healing this sickness of mind. Once I am crowned King, I will appoint Faramir as my Steward in place of his father.”
This seemed good to everyone except Lord Denethor, and so it was done.
***
No one could have been happier than I when the King made Faramir Prince of Ithillien. He deserved it, for his years of service. As for me, I found mercy, mingled with just enough justice to assuage my conscience. I had to leave the city I loved, but I was allowed to serve my prince in Ithillien.
I live here still, with my wife and children. Faramir is a good lord. Even Denethor has softened some, now that the threat of Mordor has passed. He lavishes his love upon young Elboron. The Prince’s young son can even make the old man laugh, at times. I am glad I stopped Denethor from killing himself and his son. Now that he has recovered, I think Denethor himself is glad also.
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- Erulisse (one L)
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