Ch. 1 - A Decision

Indis walked next to Faramir. They passed through the foyer and stopped at the door to the Great Hall. Faramir shivered. It was fear, Indis knew, and her heart broke, but they had to press on.

“Lord Faramir. Your people await.”

Proudly she watched him straighten his shoulders. He did not look at her, though she knew he wanted to, desperately, for comfort and assurance. But he was Denethor’s son and he knew his duty. He stepped into the Hall and she moved with him.

There was a slight murmur of approval from the filled Hall. Indis and Faramir walked through the parted throng to the steps. Faramir paused for a brief moment. She smiled as he took a deep breath. “Only a few more steps, my Lord,” she whispered. He barely nodded and started to climb them. When they reached the Throne, he stopped and knelt. She knelt beside him.

“Faramir. What you do now will be written and kept in the Archives. You may choose to take the Throne and force your people to claim you as their king, with all the dangers that entails. Mayhap another Kin-slaying. Or, perhaps, they are tired of waiting upon a king to return and they may accept your claim. Amandil sat here.”

Now he did turn to her; fear and horror filled his eyes. Suddenly tears slid from the corners of his eyes.

“Or. You can do as your father did and accept the Rod instead of the Crown, sit in the Steward’s Chair and govern your people until the king returns. It is your choice.”

Tears fell more rapidly. “I do not want to be like Amandil.” His voice caught at the hated name.

She noted he was desperately trying to stay the tears, but the time of horror, when Amandil had stolen the Throne, killed Boromir, and tortured Faramir, was only shortly past. Gondor still reeled from the tragedy. How was her seven-year old nephew expected to make such a decision? She bit her lip to stay her own tears. “Gondor has need of a Steward or a King now, Faramir. You must decide. Either way, your people need you.”

“What…?” he sniffled. “What would Boromir do?”

She smiled. “That is a very good question.”

“He thought,” the boy swallowed. “He thought father should be king.”

She waited. The Hall had grown deathly still.

“Will you still be Regent?”

“Yes.”

“No matter my decision?”

“Yes.”

He stood and walked to the Throne. She held her breath. She had not thought he would make this decision. Her mind reeled at the implications, the dangers. But she had promised him she would stand behind him, no matter his decision,