Ch. 5 - Acquiescence

Borondir, surprised, looked at Ragnhild, whose face was lit with joy. Húrin and Amlach were smiling. Ciramir looked thoughtful. Théoden King gazed about him, bewilderment clear upon his face.

“She is…”

Before another word came from the Rohir’s lips, the young Steward ran into the room, Théodred and Targon close on his heels. Faramir pulled up short and blinked in surprise. He took one look around the room and memories flashed across the small face. All in that chamber died a little as the child’s smile quickly fell into a deep, trembling frown. Théoden knelt and opened his arms. “Come, boy.”

Faramir’s breath hitched; the cookie he held crumbled as he ran into the same strong arms that had held him on the Pelennor, rescued him from the bad men who were taking him away from Boromir and all he held dear, and wept with him when Boromir was slain. His sobs, muffled by the fur-lined cloak of the king, tore at their hearts. Théoden nodded his head and Indis led the others from the room and into Denethor’s study. She grimaced. ‘Now my study.’

“There is not a place in the Citadel,” Imrahil said quietly, “that does not bear pain and anguish for all of us. How much more for my nephew?” He sat in his accustomed chair and began to worry the leather cording around its arm. “I can hardly bear it myself.”

“Bear it we must. There has been no time to help Faramir heal…”

“I would hear that tale, Indis.” Imrahil sat straighter. “How was he healed when all the might of Gondor could do naught for him?”

“I would hear why Thorongil did not return with you?” Ciramir asked. Pain and puzzlement blazed across the captain’s face. “I served with him; I served under him! He was a great warrior. He must have seen, must have realized the plight that Gondor is now in. I… I cannot understand why he did not return? He could have ruled Gondor after the Corsair Battle! The people loved him!”

She sat, tentatively, in Denethor’s chair. “I will speak to you first, Ciramir. I believe he knew the people would crown him, if he returned. Did he have a right to be our king? You are a warrior and a captain. Would you have accepted him as king? After the first frenzy of adulation, what then would have happened? Gondor is still terrorized by the One we do not name. Once the attacks from Mordor began again, would the people have not questioned him, not wondered why the great Thorongil did not save them? Would they not then have looked to his ancestry and been revolted by his temerity in taking the Throne? Would not Kin-strife have begun again? Thorongil never pledged loyalty to Ecthelion; he never pledged loyalty to Gondor. He was, however, a hero and we all loved him. But he was wise and knew Gondor, knew her history. In my weakness, I asked him to come back with me, for Faramir’s sake, and he would not. I asked him to return with me for Gondor’s sake and he wept.”

The room grew deathly quiet.

“I know not his reasons for not returning. Mayhap the thoughts I have placed before you were his and forced him away? I think whatever it was it must have been great, for he is great. I will not second-guess him; I will not judge him. I will hope that someday his reasons will be o’ercome and he will return to Gondor.

“As for your question, Imrahil. Thorongil made some potion, something he called a tea, that brought Faramir back. I am not sure what happened or what was in the brew. I did not recognize the odor. When we arrived, Faramir’s thrashing had ended; he lay peaceful, but not awake; the fever was gone from him. Thorongil had been plying him with the tea. At last, he sang Finduilas’ lullaby to Faramir. His eyes opened and he…” She sobbed, “He completed the song.”

“And he has been well since?”

“He has. He mourns. Who would not? But he has not succumbed again. I was distraught, when once we sighted the White Tower, for I remembered his pain when we first saw it upon Mindolluin. I was afraid he would lapse again. He did not. He held me close, but he kept his eyes open.”

“Did you ask,” Siriondil questioned, “what was in the tea? What kind it was?”

“I did not. Not even after the shock of having my nephew, my Faramir, awake and aware again had passed.” She shuddered. “In my mind’s eye, I had already entombed him.” Tears fell.

Imrahil stood and held her. “Hush, Indis. You did all you could. If you had listened to me, Faramir would now be dead, lying in the tombs of his fathers. All who listened to you thought you were mad, that Denethor and Boromir’s death, along with your own Arciryas,’ had unhinged your mind.” He stepped back, still holding her arms, and smiled. “You have my full support for Listöwel. If you think it right and proper that she be your Captain-General, then I am behind you.”

She smiled through her tears. Listöwel stepped forward and hugged her friend, her Regent, her commander. Indis returned the embrace. “So now, dear friend, you are in the fire with me. We shall endure; we shall hold Gondor safe for Faramir.”

Húrin and Amlach stepped to her side. “You have our support too, dear Lady. Amdir always spoke highly of his bride.” Húrin nodded. “To use the Rohir’s term, you are a true Shieldmaiden. I remember well the Battle of Amon Dîn. When the garrison was o’er run, you saved the women of that fortress, hid them in the recesses of the storage tunnels, and brought them all out alive, once the garrison was relieved. I will never forget that, nor will many of Gondor’s warriors. Besides being Amdir’s councilor, you are known for your courage.”

“Then it is settled,” Théoden King intoned as he stood in the doorway, his arm draped around Faramir’s shoulder, “Listöwel will be Faramir’s Captain-General and I will go home and care for my own people.” He smiled.

Faramir looked up in alarm. “Please do not leave yet, Adadhron,” he whispered.

Théoden looked at him in surprise. “I am honored to be so named and I accept, Faramir.”

He bent and hugged the boy warmly. Théodred smiled. “I knew we were brothers in some way.”

Faramir giggled. “I am always the little brother!”

“Yes, Faramir, you will always be the little brother. That gives me the right to order you about. Now, my first order is – more cookies! ‘Tis time, is it not, Targon?”

The cook’s apprentice smiled. “The last batch is already eaten. I think I best get back to the buttery and make some more. Anyone want to join me?”

Faramir squealed in delight. “I would. You too, Théodred.” He pulled his brother’s hand and the three young ones left the room.

Indis walked to the King of Rohan and embraced him. “Always, Denethor loved you. He knew your greatness, Théoden. Knew it well.”

The Rohir huffed a little. Imrahil stepped forward and offered a glass of wine and a chair. Théoden sat, contentedly.