Stories of Arda Home Page
About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search
swiss replica watches replica watches uk Replica Rolex DateJust Watches

Lords of Gondor  by Linaewen

The healer who had been called from the Houses of Healing confirmed what Dûrlin had suspected, that Faramir was feverish and needed tending by expert healers.  But Denethor would not allow Faramir to be moved.

"Do not move him.  If you must tend him, then do so, but he must stay here... with me..."  No amount of urging from Dûrlin or the healer could make him change his mind; Denethor was determined to stay where he was and his son with him.

With a heavy sigh, the healer did what he could to make Faramir more comfortable, making certain his wound was well-bandaged and clean, with herbs and healing draughts at hand to help with fever and pain. As he left, he gave instructions to Dûrlin.

"I must return to the Houses of Healing, to prepare for the wounded who will soon come, as well as tend those who are already there. You are well-equipped to care for Faramir, but you may call us at need if he takes a turn for the worse or if you feel his needs are beyond your expertise.  I fear this fever may worsen, so do your best to keep him cool.  I will check on him as I am able, but that may not be possible once the battle begins."

"Thank you for what you have done," Dûrlin reassured him.  "I will do everything in my power to tend Faramir well."

"Watch closely and care for the Lord Steward, as well, if he allows it.  It is a grave blow to have his son so ill, and I fear he will also fall ill if he does not take care."

"Fear not, I will not let him fall into illness or despair!" Dûrlin vowed.  "He and his sons have been my charge for many a year, and I will not fail when the hour seems darkest."

Pippin watched the door close after the healer, then turned to Dûrlin.

"Will Faramir die?" he asked, unable to keep from expressing the fear that was foremost in his mind.

Dûrlin laid a comforting hand on Pippin's shoulder.  "Did you hear my vow to the healer just now?  I meant every word.  Faramir will not die, for we will do everything we can to keep him from death.  We will also strive to keep his father from despair; I fear his spirit is broken, but perhaps it can be restored when Faramir recovers and Boromir returns."

Pippin smiled in spite of his worry.  "You are always so positive with how you look at things!  You speak as if you know Faramir will recover and Boromir return.  That encourages me!"

"I feel it is always best to remain hopeful in the face of fear.  What is the use in expecting the worst when nothing has yet been confirmed?  Many likely consider me a fool that I remain so certain in the face of what seems to be reality, but a positive outlook is a strength against all manner of difficulties.  Denethor believes all is lost, that is written clearly on his face -- but we must do what we can to change that for him, and to do that, we must look forward in hope.  You have joined me in my belief that Boromir still lives; can you also share my confidence that Faramir will live, as well?"

"Somehow it seems easier to believe in Boromir's return than to believe Faramir will recover, seeing how sick he looks -- but I'll do my best, Dûrlin!  Just tell me how I can help."

"I will see to Faramir and his needs.  As his page, your duty now is to watch over our lord Denethor and keep him from losing heart.  It will not be a simple task, but it is the best way you can serve him now."

"I'll do it, whatever it takes," Pippin vowed.

***

Word spread throughout the City that Faramir was wounded, perhaps nearing death, and the Lord Steward had fallen ill in his despair at the loss of his sons.  The thought of their strong and decisive Steward being unable to lead was frightening to the people of Minas Tirith, but before long, the rumor that Denethor had given over leadership for the coming battle to Mithrandir was confirmed, as the wizard strode about the City, giving orders as well as encouragement to those manning the walls.  Prince Imrahil accompanied him wherever he went, upholding Mithrandir's leadership.

"Do you think the Rohirrim will come?" Imrahil asked as they walked the walls and made plans for the defense of the City.

"Ingold reports that they cannot come," replied Gandalf, shaking his head.  "He led the guard stationed at the North Gate of the Rammas, so he would be in a position to see the strength of the enemy there.  He and his men were the last to return within the walls before the siege began; according to him, the road west to Rohan is blocked by the enemy, so Théoden is cut off.  He would encounter a fierce battle on the road before he can even get close to the City.  It is my belief that the Rohirrim are coming, but whether they will reach the City in time or in numbers sufficient to aid us, I cannot say.  Even so, I will not lose hope just yet, for the future is not set and we cannot know what fortune may yet come to us."

"I hear the rumor has already gone forth in the City that Rohan cannot come," Imrahil sighed.  "We must keep the fighting men encouraged so that they do not fall into despair at the enormity of the battle before us.  Let us hope Théoden finds a way to reach us before it is too late!  Whether aid comes or no, we cannot lose heart before the battle has even begun!"

"It is as you say," Gandalf agreed.  "There is much we can do to oppose the enemy, while we wait for aid to come, and keeping hope alive is not the least of our weapons of defense!"

***

The Riders of Rohan had broken camp in the early morning darkness, picking their way slowly and carefully over rough ridges and through thick woodland, seeking paths down into the hidden Stonewain Valley.  Once they reached the forgotten wain-road, they made steady progress.  The road was broken and thick with fallen leaves, but wide enough that the long files of Riders could move forward side by side.  All was quiet under the trees, and the air grew steadily dimmer as they slowly drew closer to Minas Tirith.  There was no sight or sound of any enemy, and the Wild Men who accompanied them kept watch before and behind to make certain no Orc scout or spy of evil Men might learn of their movement and thwart their progress.

Though they were now nearing the edge of the wood, they made camp in the late afternoon, in order to rest and receive reports from the scouts Éomer had sent to spy out the road ahead.  Wild Men also came with reports of a large contingent of the enemy encamped near Amon Din to the northeast, no more than an hour's walk away from where the Riders rested, hidden among the grey trees.  However, southwards along the road and straight ahead from their camp, there was no enemy to be found between them and the walls of the Rammas Echor.  Ghân-buri-Ghân reported with a strange gurgling laugh that many Orcs were present at the North Gate walls, but they were heedless and not keeping watch, as they busied themselves with breaking down the walls, assuming no enemy could pass to disturb them.

Éomer was delighted with this news.  He had feared the out-wall would be held against them, but now their way forward was unimpeded and the enemy was open to attack.  They would be able to sweep through, thus reaching the open road and the grassy plain beyond where they would be able to ride more swiftly.

Yet Éomer's scouts also brought news that was not so good: the errand-riders of Gondor had been found dead along with their horses, not far from the edge of the grey wood where the Riders of Rohan were encamped.  They had been struck down and their heads hewn off.   One of the riders still clasped the Red Arrow that had been sent as the signal to call Rohan to the aid of Gondor.  It was evident that the riders had found the enemy already on the out-wall, and had been forced to turn back without reaching the City.

"Alas!" cried Théoden. "Denethor has heard no news of our riding to his aid!  He will despair of our coming!"

Boromir buried his face in his hands, mourning the loss of these good men of Gondor who had been unable to bring hopeful news to the City.  He groaned at the thought of his father's despair.

"This is unfortunate," Éomer said regretfully.  "The need to reach the City swiftly seems ever more urgent now, knowing they have not heard of our coming.  Yet it is unwise to move forward without rest to regain our strength.  Do not lose heart!  We will rest now, but if we move forward tonight, we will reach the fields at first light and ride like the wind to the City.  Then, at the sounding of the horns of Rohan, shall the lord Denethor hear of our coming!"





<< Back

Next >>

Leave Review
Home     Search     Chapter List