Written for the Topsy-turvy (Alternate Universe) challenge at Tolkien_weekly.

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“Careful!” Denethor snarled as the household guards gently raised the litter.

Peregrin knelt before him. “Do not send me away, lord.”

“Indeed not, Master Halfling, for now you may be of great service. Go with these men to the healers.” Handing him the white rod of office, the steward commanded, “Keep this until my son should awake.“ He glanced at Faramir’s sweat-streaked face. “Or until the king should return.”

He donned his helm and took up a shield that bore neither charge nor device. After bowing before the vacant throne, Denethor departed to lead the defence of his City.