A/N: A series of vignettes (and the occasional short story) on the subject of duty, featuring Denethor and Faramir with appearances by Ecthelion, Aragorn, Finduilas, Boromir, Gandalf, Éowyn and Elboron. I am not a quick writer so this may not be updated very often but there will eventually be 10 chapters.

Title: For Gondor

Context: Book-verse, Gondor, 3rd Age pre, during and post-LOTR

Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for LOTR

Disclaimer: All characters, settings and other elements created by JRR Tolkien are the property of the Tolkien Estate. No copyright infringement is intended and I do not profit in any way from the creation of this story.

A Lesson Learnt

It had been a long and difficult meeting and the Steward of Gondor was glad of the chance for some peace and quiet in his private chambers. Seating himself by the fire, he closed his eyes, breathed a heavy sigh and tried to clear his mind. However, the ill news that had been brought to him that day weighed on his thoughts and he was unable to relax.

After a few minutes of gloomy contemplation, he became aware that he was being watched. Opening his eyes again, he saw his five year old son standing in the doorway, evidently unsure whether he should disturb his father. The boy had an expression of concern that was far too old for his years. The Steward shook himself from his melancholy and smiled at the child.

"Come in, Denethor," he said encouragingly, "sit here with me."

The boy came and settled on the floor by his father's feet, looking up into the man's face with a worried frown.

"What is the matter, father?" he enquired in a solemn voice.

For a moment, Ecthelion considered dismissing his son's concerns and affecting that nothing was wrong, but he quickly decided against that course of action. For one thing, his son was already far too perceptive to be taken in easily. Moreover, the Steward was mindful that Denethor would one day take his place and would have to shoulder the burdens that he now bore. It was best that the child should hear the truth from the start so that he could begin to prepare himself for the heavy duty that would fall upon him.

"We have received some bad news, my son," he explained as simply as he could. "Many of the soldiers who were fighting against the Enemy have been lost."

Denethor bit on his lip as he thought through what his father had said. "Where were they lost?" he asked seriously. "Can they not be found?"

"No, my child, I mean that they have been killed by the Enemy. It saddens me because I sent them into battle and now they shall never return."

The boy pondered this for a while. He did not like to see his father so troubled and he wondered what he could do to make things better. While he was trying to think of a solution, the Steward spoke again, quietly as if to himself.

"And because I shall have to send many more who will also lose their lives."

"Must you send them, Father?" Denethor questioned him. "If the soldiers did not have to go and fight, perhaps you would not be sad any more."

Ecthelion smiled in spite of his bleak mood but he spoke soberly. "They must go to battle, my son. They are men of Gondor and it is their duty to protect our beloved country against the evil of the Enemy…as it is my duty to send them, even to their deaths."

He looked at the child with sympathy in his eyes. "And there will come a time when you are Steward and you will have to do as I do now."

Denethor stared back at him in confusion and some alarm. "But how could I be Steward?" he exclaimed. "You are the Steward."

"That position will be yours one day, when you are grown and I have passed out of this world. But that will not be for a long time, Valar willing."

His son sat in silence for several minutes, thinking this over in a pensive fashion far more suited to an adult than a five year old child. Finally, he looked up at his father again and spoke with great solemnity. "I hope that it will be a very long time before I am Steward but, when I am, I will try my best to be as good as you are."

Ecthelion leaned forward and put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "I am sure that you will," he assured the child with a gentle smile. Then his expression became sombre once more. He took a deep breath and released it in a weary sigh before speaking again. "Always remember this, my son," he urged in a quiet but authoritative voice, "the duty we owe to Gondor must come above all else."

Denethor held his gaze and his grey eyes shone with sincerity. "I will not forget that, father," he replied. "I promise."