"Down A Different Road"
Part 4
by Beryll
When I first met Faramir of Minas Tirith, he was the typical
annoying little brother of your best friend. Boromir and I were twelve years
old. Grown boys in our own eyes and very important ones at that. It took all
our stealth to sneak away from the watching eyes of mothers, nurses and guardians
anyway. The last thing we needed was six year old Faramir, following us around,
making us that much more detectable.
I clearly recall that summer. I had met Boromir before, when my father took
me along to Minas Tirith to show me the big city, to acquaint me with my future
duties, even if my mother told him over and over, I would just get into mischief.
She was right, of course. Boromir and I needed just one look at each other,
to decide there was a whole lot of trouble, we wanted to get into together.
It was easy to dodge Faramir in Minas Tirith. His nurses kept him confined
to the palaces, never letting him out of eyesight. I saw him just once at
diner and that can't really count.
Then, when Boromir turned twelve, his mother decided, she had spent enough
steaming hot summers in the city and came down to Dol Amroth, to spend the
two hottest month in the cool sea air with my mother. I couldn't have been
happier. I remember running around the castle the whole week before they arrived,
making plans, what I wanted to show my friend, what we would do together.
And then they brought Faramir with them! At first Boromir actually tried to
take him along, but he soon realized how much his usually beloved little brother
grated on his nerves, when he finally had somebody his own age to play with.
We must have been the meanest kids anybody can imagine then. I don't know,
how often Faramir ran away crying, both of us laughing after him. I do know,
that my father used his belt on me that summer four times. More than he had
in all my life till then. And I deserved every single one of those beatings.
But children forget quickly. The year after that, Faramir came along again,
still eager to be with us. It was easier then. Both Boromir and I had started
our fighting training by then. Mostly we were sparring together, Faramir sitting
quietly in a corner, worshipping both of us. How can you be mean to a little
boy, who looks at you, as if you are one of the Valar, come back to middle-earth?
And if we really wanted to sneak away? Well, we could do that, when his nurses
caught him for his afternoon nap.
They came two more summers. Boromir growing ever taller and broader. I could
still beat him with swords, but I kept away from wrestling matches. Faramir
growing tall as well, but turning not so much to weapons practice as to books
of lore.
It was our last summer, when I first really talked to him. I was sixteen then,
almost a grown man in my own eyes, still a stupid kid in everybody else's.
I saw him sitting on the battlements of the castle, reading a book. What a
strange thing to see, to see a ten year old sitting on the wind-worn wall,
reading. I don't know what made me walk over to ask what was so interesting,
that he had to read it right there. Some sudden curiosity, maybe.
He showed me his book, something really strange to me then. Poetry. A ten
year old reading poetry. I don't think he understood all he was reading about.
There were a lot a love poems. But he told me, he was trying to find out "how
the words came together, to make them sound, as if they had grown, not been
shaped". I will never forget that sentence. I actually felt stupid and
ignorant then. I laughed it away, tussled his hair and walked of.
But I remembered. That same summer, I fell in love for the first time. Some
daughter of a minor noble at the court of my father. I could not think of
anything, to make her notice me, for she was nineteen. Ages away from me.
I remembered Faramir's poetry then. So I went and asked, if there was something
in his book, addressing a beautiful maiden. I felt ridiculous, asking a child,
but what else could I do? Ask my mother? And sure enough he had something
for me. It didn't work out in the end, because I got scared, when I actually
got that girl interested, but his poem worked.
In the winter of the same year, the Lady of Minas Tirith died. That was the
end of the summer visits. Boromir was out in the field, the summer after that,
fighting his first battle. I was allowed one more year of peace before my
father sent me to the garnison in Cair Andros, to test my mettle in a real
fight as well.
We all grew up. Killing and surviving make you grow up pretty quickly. Boromir
became the man he is today. A fighter for his people, dedicated to serving
Gondor. Sometimes I wonder, if this can be healthy. Being so bend on a thing,
never acknowledging your own needs. As we grew apart, I grew together with
Faramir. I had picked up reading myself, needing consolence in the lonely
hours before battle. We spend hours discussing this or that writer, when we
both were in Minas Tirith or on guard somewhere in Gondor.
I fell in love again and again. My heart never settling on one woman, ever
suffering, when I lost them, ever rejoicing when I fell again. Faramir watched
me, wry amusement ever present in his eyes. He even wrote some candid poems
about me, which made me laugh again. Then I truly fell. I married the woman,
I had always dreamed about. We have two children now, both of them healthy.
My father died on the battlefield, forcing me to take up the mantle of ruler
of Dol Amroth sooner than I had hoped. I try to keep in mind what he has taught
me and my mother reminds me when I forget.
My life is a busy one, but I have everything a man would need, except peace
maybe.
*****
On the day the letter from Boromir arrived in Dol Amroth
I was out on the battlements, overseeing repairs. I had received note from
spies in Umbar, that the Corsairs were preparing a fleet again and though
they mostly harassed other shores it would not hurt to be prepared.
When I came home in the evening, I was tired but hearing the letter was from
Boromir, I read it immediately. He had been on some mysterious errant for
more than a year and I was glad to hear he was back. Until I opened that letter
and found he had written in the obscure code we had made up when we were boys.
Until I read, why he had to resort to such secrecy. That the heir to the throne
of Gondor had returned and been imprisoned by the Steward himself.
My face must have shown my shock, for my wife was suddenly beside me, asking
if everything was alright. I managed a brave smile and nodded. This had to
be taken care of immediately. There was no doubt in my mind, that Boromir
had told me the truth. He had never spoken up against his father, which had
always bothered me. This unwavering, unquestioning loyalty could be dangerous
with a Steward who was behaving stranger with every passing year. If he now
said, his father had to be stopped, he had not made that decision light-heartedly.
But what to do now? There was no suggestion in his letter, just hard facts
leaving it entirely up to me, to decide what to do. I could just sit back
and pretend not to know about anything, keeping my own neck save. Or I could
participate in this act of treason against the Steward. For a brief moment
I wished I knew where Faramir stood. But there was no word of his opinion
in the letter either.
Considering what I knew of the Steward, of Boromir and of the state of Gondor
there was only one possible way to go. To Minas Tirith to see for myself and
help Boromir in any way I could. So I kissed my wife and children goodbye,
told my most trusted officers to take care of the city and left that evening,
going to the white city as fast as I could.
I did not have high hopes. The letter had been on its way to me for many days
and Boromir had stated clearly, that he needed to act quickly. I was not sure,
I would find my childhood friend still alive much less that heir to the throne,
but I had to try at least.
*****
When I came to Minas Tirith the white city was strangely
quite, as if holding her breath. The guards at the gate greeted me with worry
in their eyes and when I asked if there was new trouble blowing from Mordor
- not wanting to show, I already knew, there was something wrong - they told
me, that Boromir had returned from his long journey but had fallen mysteriously
ill and lay in the Houses of Healing, fighting death.
So what ever had happened, it had not ended well for Boromir. I heard no word
of any heir to the throne, so I assumed, he must be dead. Disposed of by the
Steward. My heart was heavy when I entered the palace and it fell right into
step with the mood hanging over the palace. A dark gloom, making all sounds
muted and shallow.
I was told, the Steward wanted to see me right away. I dreaded the thought
that he might suspect me, but now that I was here, there was no way to evade
him. The more I was surprised when I entered his hall and he rose from his
throne coming to greet me halfways. His eyes were clearer than I had seen
them in years, although there was a great sadness shadowing them.
I told him I was sorry about Boromir. He flinched as if I had struck him,
then nodded and looked at me for a long moment. "Much has changed since
you were last here." He told me. "A great darkness has been in my
thoughts." A small smile was on his face when I started to object. "Don't."
He said. "I know, you noticed. You have your fathers keen eyes for the
flaws in men. I do see reason now, but it might still cost me my eldest son."
He suddenly seemed very old and tired. "Imrahil, there are hard times
ahead. Gondor will be tested to the limit. But we might still survive for
hope has shown itself. The rightful heir to the throne has come to Minas Tirith."
I could not believe, I was really hearing that. Had he just told me, he accepted
the claim to the throne he and his ancestors had kept so long? Hadn't Boromir
told me in his letter, the Steward had imprisoned that heir?
"It is only known to a very few yet. We must move carefully, to make
sure he will take over the rule quickly, when the time comes. Mordor must
not learn, that the despair, that held me so long, has been lifted from my
heart. But I know, I can trust you." His eyes pierced me and there was
his old sharp intelligence again.
"Boromir wrote to you." he said, a statement, not a question. I
could do nothing but nod. "I suspect his brother advised him to do so..."
The Steward mused. "Boromir's incredible loyalty to the one he chooses
to serve is beyond question but he is still not a skilled enough politician
to draw you into this."
I noticed he did not say his loyalty to his people. So he had even accepted,
that his eldest son had chosen this new king over his father. He truly had
changed. There was no spite or hatred in him at all. "So were is this
mysterious heir to the throne?" I managed to ask. Again there was great
sadness in Denethor's eyes. "He is in the Houses of Healing, guarding
my son. He has been there since... Well, they say the hands of the king are
the hands of a healer. It is my only hope now, for life flees my beloved son.
The healers can not help him."
I felt the urge to offer him some kind of comfort, but he still was the Steward
and it would have been unseemly. "Is there anything, I can do to help?"
I asked instead. Denethor smiled. "There surely is. There are many things
to be taken care of and as Faramir is not here either..." He slowly shook
his head. "I suggest, you refresh yourself and then attend council in
the evening. Maybe I can get Aragorn to come as well. He can not stay with
Boromir all the time. He will go insane..."
So that was the name of the heir to the throne. But there seemed to be much
more to this whole matter. Denethor sounded as if he was almost as much worried
for Aragorn as for his own son. And why was the future king of Gondor only
interested in tending to Boromir instead of taking care of his future kingdom?
What had happened to Boromir anyway? And were was Faramir? The Steward was
obviously not inclined to tell me, so I would have to curb my curiosity.
I took my leave, went to the quarters I occupied when in Minas Tirith and
tried to gather my thoughts. At least there seemed to be sense in the Steward
again. And the king had returned to Gondor at last. Maybe there really was
hope.
*****
I did not meet the future king of Gondor that evening. And
not the evening after that. He stayed in the Houses of Healing with Boromir.
I would have liked to visit my friend, too. But Denethor deliberately kept
me busy.
Three days after my arrival in Minas Tirith Faramir returned from wherever
he had been with a dwarf called Gimli and two creatures he introduced as 'hobbits'.
He and the Steward actually embraced, when they met under the gate of the
palace. Strange times were upon Gondor.
I watched them walk to the Houses of Healing, hoping against hope, that at
least my friend Faramir would tell me, what was really going on. I started
to feel a bit excluded from the important things.
I met him on the city walls that evening. He did tell me that he had been
on a mission to show some people a secret way into Mordor, to do 'something'
there and that he, the dwarf and the two hobbits had had to turn back, because
they were just too many to remain unnoticed. But he did not know, what exactly
had happened between Boromir, the Steward and our future King, either. Which
returned some peace to my mind. If he didn't know, I could reign in my curiosity
as well.
He told me, he had seen his brother, pale as death in a deep coma but otherwise
pretty much healed. "It's as if his soul is leaving, even if his body
is healed." He said, sounding afraid. I did not know, what to say to
comfort him. "The healers do not know, what ails him still." He
went on. "I saw Aragorn at his side and he doesn't look much better.
I knew they were friends but now I wonder if there is more between them. I
will have to ask Gimli."
We stayed up on the walls for several hours, following our own thoughts in
silence, only occasionally mentioning this or that about politics or warfare.
It had been a long time, since we had had the time to do that and in a strange
way we both enjoyed those lonely hours. It was, as if we were both waiting
for something.
And when dawn finally came, something did happen. A guard of Faramir's father
came searching for us, a look of wonder on his face. "My lords, Boromir
has awakened." He told us, his voice full of emotion. "The healers
say he will live!"
This time I went with Faramir to the Houses of Healing as there was no Steward
to keep me away. Denethor was there already talking to a tall dark-haired
man who looked like he had just been to Barad-Dur and back. The dark circles
under his eyes showed clearly that he had not slept in days and even before
that he must not have been the most... noble-dressed man. So that was our
future king, who had secluded himself with Boromir instead of worrying about
Gondor.
I was doubtful that first moment, but that changed when he glimpsed Faramir
and me at the door. I can not say, what startled me more: The fact that he
just radiated royal command or the immense relief in his eyes. What ever his
reason to stay with Boromir had been, if he cared only a fraction as much
for Gondor as he cared for Boromir, he would do anything in his power to keep
it save.
We went over to them and Faramir introduced me to Aragorn. He gave me a tired
smile. "So you are Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth." he said. "Boromir
said something about writing to you. I thank you for coming." He threw
a sideways glance at Denethor. "I really appreciate the risk you took."
The Steward kept his face blank but I had the distinct impression, he hid
a smile not a scowl. Which was so weird it bordered on absurd. He had never
been one to smile about any casual remarks, threatening his authority.
Denethor seemed to notice my confusion for he said: "I know he is right.
My time is fading fast. And it is a relief to see, that the ones who will
take over stick together. We must not allow Mordor to devide us again. Distrust
will be our downfall."
"So how is my brother?" Faramir interrupted, for once not able to
stand the political innuendo. "He is asleep now." His father answered.
"Has been, for most of the night..." He looked at Aragorn who suddenly
looked a bit embarrassed. I'm pretty sure he would have been able to hide
it, had he not been so tired, but here was some evidence there was more than
friendship going on between our future king and Boromir. "And you should
get some sleep as well." he told Aragorn, now more stern father than
Steward. "You are of no use to anyone like this."
Aragorn raked his hand through his hair and rubbed his face. "I had hoped
to do some catching up on the political situation. And to hear some news from
Mordor. There are many decisions to be made. It will not be long now, till
the storm breaks and we need to prepare quickly. Although I fear, we can only
stall for time now." He looked at Faramir who nodded. So there was another
secret, I was not part of. Slowly I was getting used to it.
"But you are right, of course." Aragorn continued. "Some hours
of sleep will make my head the clearer. Wake me in three or four hours and
I will be all yours. Though I would rather sit at Boromir's side and wait
till he wakes up again, that would be pure foolishness and I have allowed
myself enough of that in the last days."
The Steward nodded and gave a small bow, which Aragorn returned with one of
his own. It really was amazing to watch them circling each other with politeness
always making sure, there was nothing to misinterpret. Aragorn turned to walk
away, then stopped again. "Oh, and make sure, he doesn't get up yet."
he said. "He will certainly try but he is not well enough for that."
I think I was not the only one considering what else he might be well enough
for and it must have shown on our faces for that guilty look passed over Aragorn's
face again and he left rather hurriedly.
"Well, it seems I won't have to speak to Gimli after all." Faramir
said, watching him go. He stretched. "As there is nothing going to happen
for the next hours, I'll catch some sleep, too. Haven't had that much as well."
As I had spend the night on the wall with him, I went to sleep as well.
*****
When we all met in the council hall a couple of hours later,
the dark circles under Aragorn's eyes had not lessened much, but his eyes
were clearer. Denethor still sat at the head of the table but it was clear
to everyone present, that the reports made were mainly for the future king,
not for the Still-Steward. I watched Aragorn, as he watched the commanders
and nobles present. It was obvious he was a weathered leader. The questions
he asked were the exact I would have asked and some, I would not have thought
of.
He spend much more attention on the defenses of Gondor than on the inner politics
which suited most of the commanders just fine. There were some nobles, who
seemed troubled and I marked them in my mind, to have some words with them
after the meeting. Better to route out potential trouble, before it had a
chance to brew.
When the council ended I rose to leave with the other nobles but Aragorn motioned
me to stay with the Steward and Faramir. So he had decided quickly to trust
me. Either he was a very good judge of character or he needed my help or advise
so badly he could not afford to give himself more time to watch me. I suspected
the latter.
As soon as the door had closed behind the others he addressed Faramir: "What
do you know of the situation in Rohan? Your command in Ithilien is closest
to that border. With Isengard aiding Mordor we must fear an enemy in our backs
as well." Faramir looked at his father a moment, obviously considering.
Then he said: "I have been exchanging information and occasional aid
with the sister-son of Theoden king, Eomer, third Marshal of Riddermark. Theoden
forbade him contact with the forces of Gondor. And I am pretty sure, my father
would have done so as well, had he known." He added, when he noticed
Denethor's risen eyebrows.
"Yes." his father conceded. "I would have. Which would have
been foolishness on my part. Let's be thankful I didn't find out about it.
So what did you learn?" "Theoden seems to try to stay out of the
whole conflict. Eomer says it's all the fault of Theoden's advisor. He suspects,
that advisor works for Saruman, but he can not proof it. There are many orcs
traveling Rohan these days and the riders of Rohan are hard pressed to keep
them in check, with their king more hindering them, than giving clear commands.
They can not really stop the contact between Mordor and Isengard."
"So it is unlikely we will receive aid from Rohan, when they can't even
control their own land." Denethor said, sounding disappointed. Aragorn
shook his head. "We can't afford to give up that easily. What Faramir
said, just confirmed what I had guessed anyway. But we need their aid. Theoden
must choose sides in this war. And he must choose our side, or we won't last.
Even if we beat down Mordor, Isengard will just have to pick up the pieces,
if we can't make Theoden help us."
"But what can we do against Saruman. Now that Mithrandir is gone, who
can stand against the wizard?" asked Faramir. Mithrandir gone? What did
Faramir mean with that? Aragorn noticed my questioning look and said: "Gandalf
led me and my companions through Moria. He fell, fighting a Balrog. I fear,
we will have to survive without his guidance." That were grave news indeed.
"Can anybody stand against Saruman, who is not a wizard himself?"
I asked. Aragorn shrugged. "I suppose Elrond or Galadriel could. But
they will stay in Rivendell and Lorien. We don't have to beat Saruman himself,
though. We just have to get rid of his orcs. That is what Rohan has to do."
He considered for a moment. "I want you and Faramir to go to Rohan and
talk to Theoden and Eomer if you can find him. Sending the two of you together
might show them, how important this is. And you are both well versed in politics.
Where I would just loose my patience, you might actually achieve something."
He looked at Denethor who nodded his assent. "You will be needed here
to take the crown and give hope back to our people. Gondor needs a king now."
The Steward said. "As soon as Boromir is well enough to attend a ceremony
as well, we will make this official. And I want you to name him new Steward.
I will stay as your advisor, but young blood is needed to wage a war."
Aragorn gave a deep sigh. "Yes, I know. I will try not to disappoint
you."
He then turned to Faramir and me again. "Will you go?" We both nodded,
though we were not too sure, how much we could really do in Rohan. "Then
get ready. I want you to leave today. Any delay means risking greater disaster."
When we left the hall, I heard Denethor speaking to Aragorn again. "There
is something I want to give you. It has proved to be dangerous already, darkening
my mind, but you might be able to control it...." Then we were outside
and the door closed behind us, leaving me to ponder one more secret.
*****
Two hours later we were on our way to Rohan, accompanied by a dozen of soldiers.
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Beryll
go to PART 5 or SILLY INTERLUDE