Chapter Forty-Three - The Gift of the Elves

Indis searched through every drawer of Denethor’s desks – both in his public and private studies. She was close to her wits end. Finally, as she sat upon Denethor’s bed, dejected for her search for the key to the Tower room that held what she hoped was the Palantír, seemed for naught, she perceived the bottom drawer of his bureau looked deeper on the outside than she had seen when it was open. She stood and ran to it. Pulling the drawer open, she noted, for the first time, its weight. It was very heavy for the few pieces of clothing in it. Her heart began to flutter with excitement. Gently, she removed the clothing and placed them on the floor. When the drawer was at last emptied, she saw she had been correct – the drawer was deeper; there was a false bottom in it. She drew her dirk and pushed it into the space between the side and the bottom. It easily pried up and she found the bottom board in her hand. Trembling, she lifted it out of the way and looked down. Her heart rose and sank in an instant. The blue, star-hemmed cloak of Finduilas lay before her. She choked at the remembrance. Lovingly, she caressed the material and remembered, as tears fell, the two times in Finduilas’ short life that the Steward’s wife had warn the garment. On a whim, she took it out, planning to have it cleaned and stored for Faramir to give, perhaps, to his own wife, when the time came.

As she drew the cloak forth, a broach fell out, the sound of it as if hitting something soft. She carefully placed the cloak on the floor and gasped. A dark blue velvet case lay in the bottom of the drawer. Indis opened the case and smiled. An ancient key lay inside; she knew it was what she looked for. She leaned back on her heels and breathed a sigh of relief. She pocketed the key and put the false bottom back in the drawer, along with the clothes and the blue case

Gazing out the window, she saw Anor was well behind Mindolluin. If she went now, she would be able to return in time for the daymeal; she patted the pocketed key, and went to the hidden door. She pulled her shoulders back and walked slowly up the stairs. When she reached the topmost door, she pulled the key from her pocket and placed it into the keyhole. The door unlocked with nary a sound. She shivered, then walked inside.

The room was quite bare - only a plinth in the middle with a black cover on what appeared to be a rounded object. The walls were bare except for one small bookcase along the south wall. There was one window in the Tower room; it faced eastwards. Indis walked to it and looked out upon the Pelennor. She had never been this high before and was startled at how much one could see, all the way across to the River Anduin. The ruins of Osgiliath shone in the afternoon light. She bent forward a bit and looked northwards and then southwards. The land of Gondor stretched before her on either side, but there were not many landmarks of note. She was too high to see the Harlond.

Breathing a soft sigh, she turned and faced the plinth. She walked slowly towards it, considering what she would do first, uncover it or look at the books in the bookcase. ‘Stop dawdling!’ she reprimanded herself and walked resolutely to the plinth, pulling the cloth off in one swipe. Taken unawares at the lightness of the covering, she dropped it and it fell to the floor as she stared at the orb in surprise. It was smaller than she had thought. There were no identifying marks on it, but she knew it was the Palantír, one of the Seven Seeing Stones of Arda, probably the only remaining Seeing Stone.

Indis moved around the plinth and stood behind it, facing the east. Her heart began to flutter while her hands moved, almost of their own volition, towards it. As she touched it, she groaned and dropped her hands. ‘I cannot do this,’ she whispered and ran from the room.

Indis stopped her musing and shuddered. Only a fortnight after that, she had found her courage and gone back to the Tower room and looked, almost losing herself to Him. If not for Mithrandir! Another shudder coursed through her, but she steeled herself. Faramir would be leaving for Lossarnach in less than a month. Besides that, though of lesser import to her, she would be coming against Haleth’s forces at the River Erui. She needed to look – if for nothing else – to ensure Faramir’s safety, now she knew the globe might show her, for had not Mithrandir hinted of the possibility? She returned to the Tower room and walked about it for a bit. Finally, she went to the bookcase and found Denethor’s journal and a raft of papers. After caressing the journal, she pulled it open. Inside, written in his scholarly hand, was a detailed listing of the dates and times Denethor had used the globe, and also all the places he saw. She had never thought her brother looked into the globe – yet she discovered he had. And many times.

Indis returned to her study, rang the bell, ordered solitude, filled a glass with wine, and sat on one of the stuffed high-backed chairs that flanked the fireplace. Opening the journal, she spent the next three hours reading. Finally, she closed the book. Her tear-laden cheeks burned. Denethor had assuaged his grief over Finduilas’ death by watching her – through the Palantír – looking at the past from the moment he first espied his beloved Finduilas until the last moments of her life. Indis heart was filled with grief. Although she now knew she could ‘see’ Arciryas once again, she saw the folly of it through Denethor’s writings. The more her brother watched his beloved Finduilas, the more despair assailed him and grief became more than a daily pain – it became a great open sore. The longing he suffered for her every time he released the globe overshadowed the joy of seeing his adored wife. Finally, Indis noted, he stopped using it. He wrote that he could no longer endure the suffering. She held the journal to her heart and bent over, weeping at her brother’s grief.

After a time, she sat back. Slowly she forced the grief from her and began to recall the purpose for reading Denethor’s journal – to find out what It could do. ‘So one can see the past and some portion of the future if one is strong enough.’ She immediately decided she would look neither forward nor backward. The present held pain enough for her. But she would look. For Faramir’s sake.

The sky was still light; night would be upon her shortly, but she had no other duties. She found the key, went through the hidden door and walked back up the stairs to the Tower room. She pulled away the cloth and placed her hands on either side of the globe. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to concentrate on Lossarnach. She gasped as it opened to her and before her lay the fields of that fair land. There was no sign, of course, of Thorongil, as she watched farmers plowing their fields for the spring crop.

A touch to her mind caused her to look eastward. A shiver ran down her spine; she pulled the globe southward and It obeyed her. It took her but a quarter of an hour to find Haleth’s army on the eastern bank of the Anduin. At first she gasped at the size of his force and then realized that there were women and children and vendors in the crowd. The uniformed men were few – at least compared to Gondor’s army. She smiled. If all went well, they would crush this rebellion.

Another touch and the globe swirled her mind to face eastward. She drew in a shuddering breath and dropped her hands. She would not look East!

~*~

And so it came to pass that the time for farewells was upon them. Upon discussion with Listöwel, Húrin, and Imrahil, the prince having stayed on after the Mettarë feasting, it was decided that Imrahil would take Faramir south, along with Valanestel, and leave the boy with Morwen’s people at their farm in Lossarnach. A company of men would follow close by – far enough not to cause suspicion, but close enough to offer succor if it was needed. Imrahil and his entourage would ride on to Dol Amroth and the company of Gondor’s Knights would bivouac along the River Erui, as if they were on training exercises.

Faramir was apprised of the tactic and warned not to come back to Minas Tirith until his uncle came to Lossarnach. Imrahil would be their guarantee of Faramir’s safety, should aught go amiss with the battle.

Both parties left at the same time, though Faramir was hidden within Imrahil’s contingent. Loath were aunt and nephew to say their farewells, yet hope ever drove them on. Indis was quite confident her plan would work as reports from her spy in Pelargir about Haleth and his army continued to note the young man’s folly. It seemed even in the most public places, the boy would speak of his hatred for the Stewards and his plan to usurp them. Borondir reported that only a few more men had left Tarnost, headed southeastward, to join the traitor’s forces. The soldier was confident that the number Barach spoke of was, indeed, the number of men who followed the son of Amandil the Traitor.

As Indis and Listöwel sat by the banks of the river the next morning, she recalled the day Thengel’s wife, Morwen, had lost her first child, very close to the very spot they sat upon. Only a month carrying, the child had never fully settled in its mother’s womb; it was lost. Indis sat back and sighed. “Would that I had at least that experience. I have never felt the stirring of a babe in my body.”

Listöwel looked at her friend in surprise. “Arciryas was a healer. Was he never able to discern why you did not conceive?”

She blushed. “We never discussed it. The shame was mine, I am sure.” She bit her lip. “He did not seem to care; his patients were his children.”

~*~

The supply wagons and the rest of Indis’ troops arrived late the next day. The rest of that day and the evening was spent in putting an army to rest.

Morning of the fourth day came and before she even broke her fast, Indis decided it was time to begin preparing the battle site. They would take one infantry company and dig holes and rig bushes and such to hide the men. Listowel and she were in the midst of discussing which captain would lead the cavalry when they were interrupted. Balan brought Ciramir and Durahil to her. Both captains bowed and saluted, then sat at her gesture. “The men are ready, Regent,” Ciramir began. “I would have you inspect the riverbed; I would have your approval of the placement of the men for the battle.”

Indis nodded. “I will come with you. Listöwel, please accompany me. Balan, would you have a meal ready when we return? Captains Ciramir and Durahil – it would please me if you joined me for the breaking of your fast.” When they nodded their agreement, Balan saluted and left them. The four walked towards the river.

“I believe the place you have chosen will guarantee a victory, Regent,” Ciramir stated. “There are bushes and small trees that o’erhang the bank; it will be easy enough for a company to hide there. You plan on secreting the other nine companies far afield?”

“I do. I do not want to give our position away. One company will hold the river and begin the attack. It will only take moments for the other companies to join us.”

“I wish you would reconsider, my Regent,” Durahil spoke quietly. “If you stay back with the second assault force, it would be safer.”

She smiled at him. “Safer, yes, but wiser – I think not. I have been in battle before, Durahil.” Indis eyes clouded in sorrow as she spoke. She shook herself, physically, and continued, “There have been one or two scuffles that I participated in,” she smiled openly now. “Listöwel and I. Now, come show me what you have prepared.”

They were just finishing the inspection when a hue and cry arose from back towards their camp. Indis mounted and rode swiftly, along with her captains, arriving just in time to see a lone horseman fall from his mount. As Indis dismounted, she heard the name, ‘Borondir,’ called out and ran and knelt next to the fallen warrior.

“We have been betrayed, Indis,” the man cried in anguish when he saw his Regent, “Ragnhild takes Haleth and his men to Morwen’s farm. They will kidnap Faramir!”

“What is this?” Listöwel was at Indis’ side. “Why has she done this? How could she…?”

Indis interrupted her. “How and why are of no matter,” the Regent turned back to Borondir. “How many men does he take? Our scouts say his army still marches towards us.”

Ciramir held the warrior’s head up. “Three hundred come against you as a ruse. Haleth has taken his best, about one hundred strong, all horsed. He has already met Ragnhild, I am sure. They will already be at the farm. Hard as I tried to ride…”

Indis shushed him. “Rest now, friend. We will save Faramir.”

Borondir tried to reach for her hand, but failed. “Do not kill her,” he begged, weeping. “She is changed; she is not herself.” But he was speaking to the wind; Indis was already in deep discussion with her captains.

“We send four companies for the original trap. Durahil, you know the plan well; you will lead the men at the river. Ciramir, you will take two cavalry companies and head south until you find Haleth’s trail. Watch for signs. I cannot believe they have already reached the farm. My scouts would have warned us of their progress. Baran, you will lead two more companies to the northwest, in case Ragnhild has already kidnapped…” She stopped and gasped, trying to catch her breath as the horror of which she spoke smote her. Listöwel took hold of her arm and held it tightly. Indis controlled herself and spoke again, “You will watch their retreat, Baran. I think the safest way for them to make their escape would be into the foothills. Follow those; see if you pick up a trail. If you do, follow it and send a rider back to me. Listöwel, you and I will take the remaining two companies to Morwen’s farm where,” she pointed to Ciramir and Baran, “you will meet us if you have not engaged Haleth.” She paused. “We will find them and we will take back what is ours!”

The Regent of Gondor clenched her teeth, turned and ran to her horse. Listöwel followed and the two women rode off, accompanied by Indis’ personal guard and the First and Second Cavalry.