Chapter 2. Foresight.

When Boromir was nine and Faramir four, Finduilas had an accident while she and Denethor were riding out of the City.  They were still within a mile from the City when suddenly they heard her screaming and saw her horse bolt and leap wildly.  Finduilas fell off her horse. 

The guards counted themselves lucky that Denethor was riding with them that day and saw for himself how sudden it happened.  Otherwise, there was no telling how his wrath might have scorched them. 

Denethor ordered a thorough investigation.  He was incredulous: Finduilas was a skilled rider, she was riding her own horse, they were on a very familiar path.  Was there foul play? Did a stable hand do something to the Lady’s horse? Was there a muddy patch near the place the horse bolted? Did the horse suffer from any illness? When was the last time the stable master checked the horse? 

But as Finduilas regained her strength, she told him to put a stop to his inquiries.  “I screamed, then Aeglos bolted.  She must have bolted because my scream startled her, husband.” 

Denethor looked at her in surprise.  “And what could have possibly made you scream?  Everyone thought you screamed because Aeglos bolted.” 

“I saw our son fall.” 

Denethor looked at her as if she had lost her mind.  Their sons were perfectly safe at the nursery.  Then he understood.  “A foresight?” he asked with trembling heart. 

“I believe so.  I saw it vividly.  There were foul black creatures on the sky, encircling him.  Then he was pierced by an arrow, fell from his steed, and lay unmoved on the ground.”  Her eyes were wet with tears. 

Denethor placed her head on his chest and caressed her hair.  But he had no words to console her, for what she told him distressed him greatly. 

“He is so handsome, Denethor,” she said suddenly.  “Handsome, tall and noble,” Finduilas said, and amidst her tears she smiled.  “I am very proud of him.  When I saw the flying creatures and their black riders, fear paralyzed me.  But our son marched steadily.  His face is that of one who has mastered a great anguish.” 

Which son?  The question came to Denethor’s mind, but he did not say it, for does it matter which of your sons was doomed to fall in battle?  

“Do not worry overmuch, my love, a foresight does not show all that will happen.  Perhaps others will rescue him and bring him to safety, though this was not shown to you.” 

Finduilas nodded.  “I believe you are right.  I have to believe that, otherwise how could I live?” 

Finduilas’ injuries from the riding accident were not serious, the healers had reported.  After five days of rest, she resumed her duties.   

But there was a change in her: it seemed she had resigned herself that the assault from Mordor would come sooner than later and would wipe out her family.

Afterwards, Denethor would think of that accident as the beginning of the end.  For after that accident, Finduilas was seldom in good health.  A common cold which took a long time to disappear, feelings of weariness that lasted many weeks, giddiness that came every now and then.  She lost some weight.  The healers said her heartbeat was weak and too slow.  And they could not find any cause or remedy for all these. 

Gripped by fear, Denethor unjustly railed against them: was that all they can do? What about their boast that there is no illness which the leechcraft of Gondor could not heal, save old age only?  He almost discharged the Warden and all the healers in the Houses of Healing from their duties, but at the last moment he relented.  What good would it do for his lady, even if he punished them all severely? 

... 

“Go to Dol Amroth, vanima, breathing the sea air and being with your family will do you good.” 

“My family is here, and here I will stay.” 

“Of course, my lady, here you will stay, by my side, till we grow old,” he said, as they had said to each other many times before, though now his words were tinged with fear.   

“You are just visiting your parents and siblings from time to time.  Boromir and Faramir love the sea.  I would try to join you in a few weeks’ time ...” 

“It has only been two months since my last visit.  I wish to share your burden, not to escape and leave you alone to fight the shadow.” 

“To do that you need your strength, and staying here seems to sap your strength.”   

She touched his cheek gently.  “What good it is, my lord, if I live a long life, but apart from you?”   

Her voice sank to a whisper.  “I wish to be at your side, till the end.” 

He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek to her hand.  “Do not speak of the end, my love.” 

For a moment they were silent, content in each other’s closeness. 

Then he opened his eyes and said determinedly, “I would rather you live in bliss far from me, than seeing you suffer.   We will go to Dol Amroth next week, though I will have to return earlier.” 

So they went to Dol Amroth and enjoyed two weeks of respite.  At the end of the two weeks, Denethor returned to Minas Tirith.  Finduilas and the children stayed for another two months. But even there, Finduilas did not regain her strength.  That would be the last time she saw the sea from Belfalas. 

...