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Of claim and councils  by Itarille

Be careful what you wish for, it is said.  As a child I used to dream that the shadow would depart, the king would return and the White Tree would bloom again.  I had not, however, given thoughts to where I would be or what I would be doing when the king returns.  

And so, one day I found myself the Steward of the realm, the latest of a long line of faithful rulers who took oath to rule until the king returns, holding in my hands a letter from someone who claimed to be the returning king. 

I hailed him my lord and king on that fateful night at the Houses of Healing.  There were witnesses, worthy ones, though all understood that my exclamation was not to be taken as the formal reply of the Steward.  I remembered clearly what I had said, thought and felt at that moment.  The joy, the surge of love and trust; I did not deny or regret any of that. 

But (why is there always a but in anything glorious and wonderful?) I was a free man then.  I was Faramir, a Captain of Gondor, who had done his outmost to protect his city, who had endured darkness and walking deaths, who found a king of the West calling to him at the end of the perilous road.  I followed him and found my city standing; she had withstood the siege of Mordor.  If it is considered a weakness that I jumped for joy, so be it. 

Shortly afterwards, I found that the duty that had so long burdened my father had finally crushed him, and that duty was then mine to bear and fulfil.  That Captain of Gondor who was overjoyed to find his king, he could go on following him and offer him his fealty.  Even that Steward’s son who was so fond of songs and tales, he could have debated endlessly with his father (as was their wont) over the heir of Elendil’s claim and accused his father of pride and clinging to authority.  But the Steward? Could he, was he allowed to, air his fancy, his dream?  For the Steward, only the good of Gondor can prevail, shall prevail. 

I had no question on what my reply would be.  For my part I acknowledged Lord Aragorn as king, and I would welcome him as a king’s servant should.  But I had other questions, as I was the Steward, though only for a short while, and it was my duty to preserve Gondor’s interest.   

I accepted that Aragorn son of Arathorn is Elendil’s heir, but beyond that what did I know of him? Yes, there were his healing hands, there were Eagles who pronounced his triumphant entry to the city, but will the king prove an able ruler, will he be benevolent to my city, to my people?  

The steward is the king’s servant, but it does not mean I would welcome just anyone with Elendil’s blood on his veins to do whatever he wishes to my land and my people.  Why do I keep thinking of the people as my people? Do I have the right? What does the king know of the hopes and fears of the folk at Lossarnach, at Lamedon? Who is he, where has he lived? What plans has he for Gondor? Do you see that I, too, began to think of Gondor as my charge, after only few days of being the Steward? 

And I was my father’s son.  How could I receive with joy someone, something, that he rejected so utterly till the end?  It is long now since you turned from your own way at my counsel... 

Now that the white rod was mine to hold, I began to understand my father a little better.  He must have started his office like I did, thinking only of the good of Gondor.  If I let my mind continue with all the questions, would I too become like him, thinking in arrogance that only I know what is best for Gondor? 

I sighed and returned my sight to the letter.   

Such an important claim should be presented in person to the Council of Gondor. I would not enter the city unbidden.  Would a meeting at Osgiliath be agreeable, or would the Lord Steward prefer to meet at the Pelennor?  

It was thoughtful of him to ask my preference (did he perhaps think Osgiliath bear too painful a memory for me?), but I would not ask him, weary from the battles of the Pelennor and the Black Gate, to ride so far to Pelennor only to meet me.   

As for Osgiliath, well, dark memory came to me from time to time, not only at Osgiliath. And it would not be the first time I rode there after the battle. I had gone there to see the clearing, for many were busy at works there.  We had repaired the boat-bridges which were damaged in the battle; some ferries were stationed there to allow people to travel and goods to be sent to Cair Andros; a guarded post with fresh horses we also kept there for coming and going between Minas Tirith and Cormallen. 

... 

 

The next day, I rode early in the morning with Húrin the Warden of the Keys and some guards. Aragorn rode from Cormallen with two of the lords of Gondor who marched to Morannon for the last battle: Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth and Angbor, Lord of Lamedon.  

Many of the Council of Gondor were absent; Gondor had the victory but it was dearly bought.  Forlong Lord of Lossarnach fell in the battle of Pelennor, as was Hirluin Lord of Pinnath Gelin.  Haldad Lord of Lebennin fell in Morannon. Halmir, his right-hand man, whom I appointed as the next Lord of Lebennin, was wounded.  He was then still under the healers’ care in Cormallen, and so was Lord Dervorin of Ringlo Vale.  Lord Duinhir of Morthond remained at Cormallen, deep in mourning.  He sent words to me, asking to be excused from any council.  Both his sons perished in the Battle of the Pelennor. 

That afternoon we all sat in one of the tents which had been set among the ruin of Osgiliath.  Aragorn declared his claim firmly but not arrogantly.   

“I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, the heir of Isildur, his descendant through an unbroken line of father to son; and the heir of Anárion through the line of Fíriel daughter of Ondoher.  Long have I desired to return to Gondor.  Now is the time, and I am come as the king.” 

I answered him, for the Steward was the head of the Council of Gondor.  “Should the Council of Gondor accept your claim, Lord Aragorn, you will be the King of both Gondor and Arnor.  Should this come into fulfilment, will you give us your words that you will not neglect the needs of Gondor?  I do not accuse you of lacking in your regard of Gondor, how can I, after you delivered her from the siege?  Yet it is only natural for every man to hold his land of birth the most important. 

“I do not presume to know much about Arnor, but I know that much rebuilding is needed there, much more than what Gondor needs.  But the greater need of Arnor does not diminish the importance of rebuilding in Gondor.  For many long years we have dwindled and spent all our efforts to defend what remains.  Now that the shadow has departed, should we not turn our thoughts to cleansing and rebuilding? Too early, perhaps, to think of the scouring of Minas Ithil, but surely we can now turn our long-held dream of rebuilding Osgiliath into a certain plan?  My heart rejoices when I think that this ruin may one day be restored to its former glory, tall and beautiful with its dome reaching to the stars.  We also need to make plans about Umbar.  Now that the Enemy is no longer there to support the Corsairs, Gondor shall rightfully regain it; are we not the descendants of the Sea-lords? And what of fair Ithilien, the garden of Gondor, now so desolate?  Surely we can begin the cleansing and planting there?” 

His face brightened when I mentioned Osgiliath. “The thought of Osgiliath restored to its former glory makes you rejoice,” he said. “I, too, long for it.  My forefathers built Osgiliath; is it a wonder that I long to see it restored?  You said that one holds the land of one’s birth the most important: that is true.  But I have not spent all my years in Arnor.  I was raised in Imladris, the Elven realm of the North.  It was only after I came of age that I spent some time in the company of the Dúnedain of the North.  Then I travelled far and wide to many lands, spent long years serving many lords, including the Lord of Gondor.  I give you my words that I hold Gondor as dear as Arnor, for both are the realms of Elendil, and I have spent many years in each realm, long enough to endear both to me.” 

For a moment no one spoke.  It was Angbor who broke the silence.  “You served Gondor in the disguise of Captain Thorongil,” he said.  “I only met you once and I was very young then, but I have not forgotten.” 

Aragorn nodded.  “I took the name of Thorongil when I served Thengel King and Steward Ecthelion.  It is an honour to be remembered by a valiant man, Lord Angbor.” 

He turned to me.  “Have I answered my lord Steward’s question?” 

He had, but I had other questions.  “Captain Thorongil did many great deeds and his praise is still sung in Gondor.  But he left suddenly, at a time when Gondor needed him.  Would you enlighten us your reasons for doing so?” 

“It was not yet the time for me to claim the kingship.  I left to travel to many lands, for I had much to learn,” said Aragorn. “And before I left Gondor, some people had begun to give me respect and love more than befitting a Captain.  Some might have remembered the line of Arnor and suspected my lineage.  The time was not ripe and I was loath to see Gondor torn by kin strife for the second time.” 

“I remember that time,” said Angbor.  “In Lamedon I heard the same whispers.  My father had the highest regard for Thorongil, but he was relieved when he left.  He said that with the shadow at hand, kin strife was the last thing Gondor needed.  It was noble of you to leave, lord.” 

“We all have to do our duty,” Aragorn replied. 

I spoke again, "Should we accept your claim, we will lay down some conditions."  I did not like to say this, it sounds too mercenary, but it was necessary. 

Aragorn nodded.  "Name them." 

"First, to preserve the Council of Gondor with their role and duties as stated in the Law. The king may appoint council members; yet we entreat you to keep your appointment among the lords of Gondor." 

He nodded again. "I have no intention of being a despot.  And my kinsmen will return to the North.  Gondor's affairs will be decided by Gondor; you need not worry." 

"Second, about the treasury."  I was reluctant to say this, but it was better to be thought a mercenary man, than failed to safeguard Gondor's prosperity.  "I have searched in the Archives, yet I could not find a detailed account of how the treasuries of Gondor and Arnor stand in relation to each other.  From what I could find, it seems each has a separate treasury. In your reunited kingdom, we would like to keep it that way. We will, of course, maintain a close relation with Arnor as befitting our kinship and come to each other's succour in times of need."  But Gondor's coffers shall not be depleted for the rebuilding of Arnor.  I could not bring myself to say that. 

He looked at me intently.  I was ready to see disappointment or irritation in his face, but he seemed almost amused. 

"I have no intention to empty Gondor's treasury to rebuild Annúminas, my good lords," he said. "The Ruling Stewards seek the Council of Gondor’s approval on their spending plan; I will do the same.  Any other conditions?” 

Prince Imrahil spoke, "Lord Faramir would never say this, so it falls on me to do it.  Not a condition, but an entreaty.  The Stewards have ruled and guarded Gondor faithfully and ably for almost a thousand years.  There shall not be two rulers, of course.  But relying on the wisdom of the king, I trust you would treat Lord Faramir and his house with respect befitting their lineage and faithful service." 

The other lords murmured their agreement.  I studiously kept my eyes on my lap; I could not bear to look at anyone. 

"I hold the House of Húrin in high regard," I heard Aragorn's reply. “And I am not one who sees great men as rivals.” 

“If I may ask, Lord Aragorn,” Lord Húrin said next, “should Gondor repeat the answer we gave to Arvedui, what will you do?” 

He seemed slightly taken aback and some sadness passed over his countenance.  But he replied evenly, “I have no wish to oppose the Council of Gondor.  Should that happen, I will devote myself to the rebuilding of Arnor.  I would like to maintain our tie of kinship, just as Arvedui and Eärnil did.” 

Nobody spoke for a while and I, too, had no more to say in front of everyone.  “The Council of Gondor will give our answer in due time,” I said.  Aragorn and I rose and we all went out of the tent.  

... 

 

As I went out of the tent, to my surprise I saw Mithrandir outside, sitting on the grass near the river.  “I did not know you came, Mithrandir,” I said as I sat next to him, “why did you not join us?” 

“I purposely set off slightly later than them,” he said. “My task is done.  I would not meddle in what you and the Council of Gondor decide.” 

“Then did you come to see me? That is very kind of you.” 

He looked at me tenderly.  “How good it is to see you alive and thriving, Faramir.  I feared that we would lose you, too.” 

“The Shadow crept in,” I admitted.  “But for your parting words to me, I might have thrown my life and many men’s.  You saved my life more than once.” 

Then I asked him to tell me about the Lord Aragorn.  “Who is he, where has he spent his life before, why did he come only now? He did mention Thorongil, but I would like to hear more.” 

And so I listened to the eventful life story which seems fitting to heroes and legends.  The untimely death of his father, the fostering at Rivendell, the disguise as the sell-sword Thorongil, the wanderings to uncharted places, the death of his mother.  He too has lost all his family, I thought, and is not a stranger to hardship and loss.  

“Did you know that it was the Eagles that bring the tidings of victory to the city?” I asked him after he finished his story.  “They sang about the return of our king.  It was as if the Valar themselves made the claim for the heir of Isildur and warned any stiff-necked lords of Gondor who would dare to deny him entry.” 

“Does it seem thus to you?  The Valar do not dictate the doings of the Eldar, much less the doings of Men.” 

“And what say you, Mithrandir, what counsel would you give me?” 

“What are your doubts, Faramir?” 

“I would not call them doubts.  I am just making certain, as a steward should, that I am releasing my charge to someone...” 

Here I stumbled for words.  Someone worthy? Someone destined to be king? Someone who can restore Gondor to its glory?  Who am I to judge whether someone is worthy to be king?  And yet that is what I am called to do.  “Someone that will be true to Gondor”, I finally said. 

He seemed to understand what I chose not to say. 

“One can never be certain of such things, Faramir.  Today I say to you, and I think you yourself know this, that the line of Elendil has returned to you.  Aragorn is a great man, capable to be a good ruler and restorer of glory.  But what will become of Gondor in years to come, under his rule, or under your rule, who can be certain of that?  Elendil the Tall was a great lord, but he perished in a battle.  Eärnur was mighty in battles, but in his rashness, he left his kingdom bereft.  Aragorn is a great man, but who can say what his descendants would be like?  The same question applies to the Steward and any other rulers.  You, Faramir, are devoted to Gondor.  Who can be certain that your son, or grandson, will be as devoted?  Shall we say, then, that we will choose a worthy ruler every time the previous ruler departed?” 

“The stewardship was not hereditary in the beginning”, I pointed out.  “In the old days every king chose their own steward.  But it is unthinkable to do that with kings, and who are to be burdened with the choosing?  The Council? Or shall we, by some clever means, gather the opinion of everyone in the land?  Even if we can, that will present its own difficulties.  Lords will vie for power; the crown will become a prize and no longer a duty.” 

“Yes,” he said, “it is unthinkable for us now.  Let that be the course taken by others in distant days, if the needs for that ever come.  As for you, my Lord Steward, do not wish to master all the tides, or to make Gondor future all certain.  It is enough for each of us to do our part, in the years wherein we are set, preparing a good earth for those who live after to till.  If what may seem good earth to you today proves to be otherwise for your descendants, fret not.  No one is ever asked to be all-knowing.” 

His words relieved me of some of my burdens.  I also recognized his gentle warning and accepted it. 

My thoughts went to my father.  “Do you remember, Mithrandir, how Father said that it was long since I turned from my own way at his counsel?  I realized now that he was right.  Even now, I am welcoming someone that he rejected utterly till his end.  Boromir would not have disappointed him so.” 

“Who knows? Boromir had come to respect Aragorn during our journey and had learned the peril of desiring power.  But does it matter?” 

“No, I suppose it does not.  At the end I would still go my own way, no matter what Father or Boromir would have chosen.” 

… 

 

As arranged, we spent that night at Osgiliath, for all were weary from battles and even with fresh horses, we deemed it would be better to ride the next day. 

As I sat outside my tent that night, gazing at the starlit river, my thoughts went not so much to the last battle at Osgiliath, as to the night when I saw Boromir’s funeral boat passing me by.  I missed my brother. 

I turned as I heard footsteps approaching.  It was Aragorn. I stood up to meet him, but he gestured that he would like to sit with me. 

“Does your wound still give you pain, Lord Faramir?” he asked as we sat down. 

“No, it has healed.  I hope Peregrin, Frodo and Samwise are in the path of recovery as well?” 

“They are still asleep, but it is a healing sleep.  I hope they will wake up in few more days.” 

“And what about you, my lord? You appear unscathed, but surely you suffered some wounds?” 

“Some harmless wounds,” Aragorn replied, “and weariness, as no doubt we all feel.” 

“I am sorry about your father and brother,” he said. 

“Thank you,” I said. “I am sorry for your loss, too.  I heard of Lord Halbarad and some other kinsmen from the North.” 

After a short pause he spoke again, “Now may it be my turn to ask you questions?” 

Is it not a sign of greatness, that one should ask, where he may command?  You may ask anything of me, my lord, I wished to say, and I would have said it had I not been the Steward.  Instead, I simply said yes. 

“Should the Council accept my claim, and should I ask you to remain as the Steward, not the Ruling Steward but my Steward, will you resent it?” 

“Why should I resent it?” 

“Most people may see it as being forced to serve someone who deposed you.” 

I smiled.  “But I am not most people,” I said.  “I see it for what it is: a steward surrendering his charge and continue to serve his king.  It is a reason for pride and joy, not resentment.  But what would the king need a steward for?” 

“You are the lore master, and you asked me this? The kings of old have their stewards, the Law wrote down the duties of the Steward: chief councillor to the King, the King’s representative during his absence or sickness, when the King goes to war the Steward must remain in the City as the army commander … though in your case, I would like to have you by my side in battles. Perhaps we can do something about this rule.” 

I was not sure which one made me happier, his familiarity with the law and customs of Gondor, or his compliment on my quality as a captain. 

“I came from a long line of Ruling Stewards.  Most people would not want to start their rule with the shadow of the previous ruling line by their side.” 

“Ah,” his eyes twinkling, “but I am not most people.”  He smiled and I could not help smiling too. 

It would be remiss of me not to point out to him, thus I said, “I am sure you know that the stewardship was not hereditary to begin with.  The King is free to choose his Steward from any lords of Gondor.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Who?” 

“Pardon, my lord?” 

“If I am to get rid of the House of Húrin, since they have dared to usurp the ruling authority for hundreds of years, who would you recommend as my steward? You know the lords of Gondor better than I do.” 

“Ah. Let me think.  My cousins the lords of Dol Amroth are all valiant and true. Elphir is out of the question, since he will be the next Prince.  Erchirion is a great captain but has little patience for mundane matters which unfortunately a Steward would have to bear with.  Amrothos is more interested in numbers and books than in people. And they both know little of Gondor other than Minas Tirith, Belfalas and Pelargir. The lords of other fiefs, their care is mostly on their own land, they may not have the required understanding of Gondor as a whole.  And there are some who certainly should not be the Steward!  I should not mention their names to you at this stage.” 

He nodded encouragingly, “Pompous ass, I gather?” 

“Yes, arrogant enough without a new rank to increase their pride.  There are other valiant men of high Númenorean descent in Minas Tirith, with some tutelage they could learn about the fiefs …” I suddenly realized that Aragorn was trying to suppress his mirth. 

“You are having your amusement at my expense,” I said, as I realized what he was doing.  “Very well, at the risk of being a fool who sings his own praise, I admit: if we talk about trainings and qualities, I seem to be most suitable to serve the king as his steward.” 

We both laughed.  

“Should the Council accept my claim, and should I choose another lord as my steward, what is your plan?” 

I had my answer ready, for I had thought that the King would have no need of a steward, and have planned my course accordingly.  “I will continue to serve you as a Captain of Gondor.  If you release me from that duty, too, I will rebuild my ancestors’ house at Ithilien and dwell there with my books.  Or perhaps at the orchards at Lossarnach.” 

“That sounds enjoyable,” he said.  Then he grew serious again. “But what a loss for Gondor! I am not a fool; I would not lose you.  And the people would never forgive me if they think I treat you less than you deserve.” 

For some time, none of us spoke.  We both looked at the stars above.  My thoughts again went to Boromir.  What did he talk about with Aragorn during their journey together? What did he think about Aragorn? 

His next question brought me back to the present. “Do you think you are capable to rule Gondor, Lord Steward?” 

That was a question I have asked myself many times.  Looking straight at him, I answered, “Aye.”  

He did not seem surprised.  “Why, then, did you not straightaway reject my claim? Why take the trouble to adjust to a king?” 

“Because ability and right are two different matters,” I said. “Everyone has their own duty.  One may be able to do another’s duty, but that does not mean he should start usurping another’s place and authority.  I believe I can rule Gondor well.  But I can never make the White Tree blossoms or make my hands the hands of a healer.  I will not deny Gondor her king.” 

Aragorn looked at me intently, and I saw a wistful expression in his face.  He did not say anything, but I could sense that he allowed me, invited me even, to read his heart.  And as I looked back at him I read many things: that he saw the kingship as his duty, that it saddened him that his return had caused so much distress to such a staunch steward as my father, that he earnestly wished he could have come sooner during the siege, and finally, that the past was gone, but at least the present and the future are salvaged, and would I build that future together with him? 

Who could have said nay?  I had resolved to be guided by my duty and reason, not by my feelings or fancies.  I wished to accept him as my king because it was the right thing for Gondor and my duty to do so, not because I loved him.  But how sorely tempted I was, to kneel then and there and pledge myself to him! 

We were silent, for no words were needed. 

Then he chanted softly and I soon joined him. 

Gondor! Gondor, between the Mountains and the Sea!

West Wind blew there; the light upon the Silver Tree 

Fell like bright rain in gardens of the Kings of old. 

O proud walls! White towers! O winged crown and throne of gold! 

O Gondor, Gondor! Shall Men behold the Silver Tree, 

Or West Wind blow again between the Mountains and the Sea?*

 

*The verse was the one sung by Aragorn when the glimpse of the White Mountains made him reveal his deep affection for Gondor (The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter Two: The Riders of Rohan). 

… 





        

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