The Yuletide Visitations of Denethor
A/N: this is a VERY simplified and condensed version of the Christmas Story... A one shot
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Scrooge: Denethor
Spirit of the Past: Finduilas
Spirit of the Present: Aragorn (as Thorongil)
Spirit of the Future: Ecthelion
O_O_O_O_O_O_O
Denethor sat in his office late at night. Though he had a public duty to attend the feasts occuring in the Merethond, he had no wish to. Ever since his wife died, Yuletide had held no special place for him, and he had become bitter to all. His eldest entered the office and knelt to his father before standing and pacing towards his father who did not stop writing. Denethor's assistant smiled at Boromir as he approached, but Denethor took no notice of him. "Will you not come tonight father? It is the Eve of Yule after all."
"Leave me be." Denethor ordered. Usually Boromir listened to him but tonight was different.
"At least give Alan the night off. He has family who would like him with them, father." Denethor didn't look up from the ledger he was scribbling in, but anger swirled in him as he sensed the hope building up in Alan. "As I said last year and the year before, no."
Boromir stood his ground. "Father, Alan has been by your side for every Yuletide since Mother passed on. He has children who miss him!"
"Let them!" Denethor growled. Standing up, knocking the ink well over, Alan sprang forward to rescue the ledgers. "Now leave me, Boromir!" Denethor snarled.
The young man looked apologetically over to Alan and Denethor swept out of the room. "I tried."
"And I thank you for it, my lord." Alan smiled as Boromir helped to wipe up the spilled ink. "At least I get this night free."
"I just wish there was more I could do." Boromir replied.
The doors suddenly burst open and one of the head healers from the Houses of Healing raced into the room. "Lord Boromir." he panted. "It's your brother..."
O_O_O_O_O_O_O
Denethor grumbled to himself as he went to bed. He was sick of all these people trying to tell him how he should run his life and how everything would be different if he would only try. He got into bed and closed his eyes. A moment later he heard someone whisper his voice and his eyes flew open. He looked around and saw a window open. He got out bed into his slippers, grumbling now about the growing ineptitude of servants. "Denethor." that voice. He spun around and saw his darling wife. Finduilas. She stood there smiling but bound with a gleaming white chain. "Finduilas."
"Denethor." she smiled and shuffled towards him. It was then that he heard the incessant clanking of the chains. She was covered in the white chains, they draped all over her. She stopped and smiled at him wearily. "Be a dear and pick up the city yes?" she gestured to where the chains led to, a city. His city. "This is a dream."
"Oh I wish it were so." Finduilas replied. "Once every 20 years, a spirit can come to the family they left behind. Usually the spirit is unseen and unaware, but our family always had traits left over from Numenor..." She sighed and turned to a wall. Denethor stood beside her, also watching the wall. Suddenly images flashed up all around him. Finduilas seemed to be scrutenizing them before nodding. Suddenly the room changed and Denethor was in the children's nursery. He saw himself and Finduilas playing with Boromir and Faramir. They were all laughing as little Faramir tickled Denethor. "Now Faramine." Finduilas cooed to the little boy. "Your father has to breathe."
Denethor listened. It wasn't 'Your Lord Father.' it was just father. So much had changed since she left. The Finduilas standing next to him spoke. "This is how it was. You were happy, laughed. Listened to your children." She nodded again and the room melted away and party sounds were heard. They were in the Merethond enjoying a feast. Just him, his two sons and almost every noble in the land. Denethor marveled at the decorations in the feasting hall. "It's..."
"Yule. Yes." Fuiduilas agreed.
"But how?" Denethor gasped. "This is not a good memory! Take me away." he moaned as he saw what happened next. A healer had entered the hall and most people fell silent. The young man clothed in black walked straight up to the high table and bowed low before Denethor. "My lord, you and your sons are needed urgently." He turned to Prince Imrahil and relayed the same message.
Denethor turned pained eyes to Finduilas only to see her watching him closely.
"One more." the scene before him changed again and Denethor closed his eyes, refusing to watch.
The two families were closed around Finduilas's bed. She had wasted away to nothing. Imrahil said a fond goodbye to his sister and his two sons stepped forward to thank the woman who had been a second mother to them. Finally they stepped back and Boromir and Faramir stepped forward. Denethor listened to the little boys saying goodbye to their mother and telling them that they loved her. "They were ten and five." the spirit Finduilas murmured. "I didn't want to leave them or you, but I guess it was just my time. Mandos received me in his halls." she tried to sooth Denethor's pained nerves. She cocked her head slightly. "Is this why you hate yuletide? Because it was the night I left you."
Denethor started sobbing in pain as he heard Finduilas die. "Please. Please stop this. Please."
"I love you." she whispered before fading away.
Denethor looked up to see himself back in his bedchamber, on his knees, head in his hands. "Fin?" he whispered.
"You haven't called me that since that night on patrol." came a soft and melodic voice.
"Gil?" he asked.
"The one and only. I am sent by the Valar to show you what you will not see. Your present." the spirit grabbed Denethors arm and jumped out the nearest window. Denethor screamed as they seemed to free fall, part of him marveling that the citadel guards had not heard his cries. "They can not hear us, Thor." Thorongil explained. "To them, we do not exist. No one can see or hear us."
"But... but... This is..." Denethor watched as Thorongil stopped before a small house on the third level. "What is this place?"
"Alan's house." Thorongil replied, walking into the house without so much as a by your leave.
"We can't go in here!" Denethor spluttered, recovering from the shock that Alan lived in such a small and run down house.
"We aren't here," Thorongil replied patiently. "Not to these people anyway."
"But..." Denethor started but Thorongil silenced him with a look. He had always been able to do that.
"Watch."
And so Denethor did. He watched as Alan walked into the small dining room helping his wife and young daughter carry in some plates and knives and forks and food. Then sitting down the small family prayed to Eru Illuvatar for peace for another year, to bless the food and then the youngest boy piped up. "And please make Lord Denethor give daddy the day off tomorrow."
Denethor watched as Alan and his wife smile sadly at each other before they finished the prayer and started eating. "This..."
"This way." Thorongil interrupted dragging him upstairs. Perhaps 20 minutes later Alan came upstairs carrying the little boy who had piped up.
"There you are, my little lad." he sat his son down on the edge of the bed and helped him into a night shirt. "All set for bed?" the boy looked up at him and nodded. "Then I'll get you the poppy syrup and we'll say a prayer."
Denethor turned to Thorongil who was looking at the boy with such compassion that it nearly broke Denethor's heart. "Why does he need poppy syrup?"
Thorongil didn't answer at first then spoke softly. "His legs were broken, they were never set properly. He can walk, but it is very painful and he's outgrown the last set of crutches."
Denethor watched the brave little boy drink the poppy syrup and shuffled himself into the bed. "Goodnight daddy. Don't let the Lord Denethor work you too hard." he yawned before falling to sleep.
"There is one more thing that I would show you before I must leave."
"What?" Denethor gasped. "Where?"
"Lord Faramir;s chamber." Thorongil answered. And they flew back towards the citadel.
Denethor and Thorongil walked through the door to see Boromir kneeling beside his little brothers bed, clasping his hand. "Please wake up. Faramir?" he sounded so lost. Denethor walked over to the bed. "What happened?" he whispered, going pale and he had started to shake.
"Thorongil!" he shouted. "What happened to my Faramir!"
"He was late to the feast. He had fallen ill with the fever. Too many long patrols while he exists on air, freezing showers and a damp home."
"No. no. I can not lose you too!" Denethor sobbed, trying unsuccessfully to grab his sons hand.
"Thorongil!" he turned around to suddenly find himself in his bed gasping for breath. He drew in some deep breaths and looked around the darkened room. "A dream. It was all a dream."
A figure stepped out of the shadows and into the frugal light of the Wintery moon. Denethor gasped and tugged his sable blanket close around him, for there stood his father, dead these 20 years!
"Father?" he asked hesitantly.
The man turned dead eyes to Denethor and waved to him. It was as good a sign as any that the man wanted Denethor to follow him. "What is it? What do you want with me? Why do you not speak?!"
The figure waved to him again and Denethor felt compelled to follow him. He stood up and without putting on his slippers followed the figure to the Streets of Silence... And to the mausoleum.
"What do you wish me to do?" he asked looking around the gleaming room. Ecthelion pointed over to a corner. Denethor looked at him before making his cold feet move over to where Ecthelion was pointing. A coffin lay there and Denethor saw it was open. No one lay inside of it. He turned back to Ecthelion. "What is it?" The man pointed above his head to the plaque that would hold a small memoriam of the person who lay within.
Here lies Denethor, Son of Ecthelion. Lord of Gondor and loving father. May he find solace in the Halls of Mandos.
Denethor turned to look at Ecthelion. "No. this is a jest!"
Ecthelion unsheathed his sword and advanced on Denethor. "No!" he remembered Faramir lying on his bed, healers scurrying about and Boromir kneeling beside the bed. "Please!" he cried falling to his knees. "What must I do!"
Ecthelion stopped the sword an inch from the man's heart. He lowered the sword and pointed to the coffin. "You want me to go over there?"
he pointed to the coffin again.
"Inside the coffin?" Denethor gasped.
Ecthelion said nothing but turned to look at the still kneeling Denethor. He raised his sword again and Denethor leaped to his feet and ran for the coffin. Ecthelion advanced towards him and Denethor saw he had no choice but to enter the coffin. He stepped up and lowered himself into the coffin, suddenly realising that this coffin had no bottom. "No!!!!" he screamed as he fell into darkness.
O_O_O_O_O_O_O
The Page tending to Denethor's fire jumped suddenly as the Lord leaped up screaming 'no'. "My lord?" he hesitantly ventured. "Are you well?"
"Morning." the lord gasped, running to the window to look out. "It's morning."
"Yes my lord." the Page agreed. "Yuletide to be precise sir."
"Yuletide?" he gasped. He ran to his wardrobe and threw on the first clothes that came to hand. "Make sure the kitchens send up a nice lunch to the family dining room." he informed the page as he ran past. "And make sure the table is set for 11. Oh and make sure a carriage is sent down to Alan's house. Tell him that he and his family is invited here for lunch. And Alan... tell Alan that he is to have the day with his family!"
He pressed five gold coins into the pages hand. "Go lad." Denethor turned and left the room before the stunned page and ran to his sons room. Faramir was sitting up in bed, looking pale. "Faramir!" he gasped, completely ignoring Boromir. "Are you alright?"
"I am well, father." he agreed.
"The healers say his fever broke in the night." Boromir put in.
"This happens all the time in Ithillien." Faramir put in. "It's really nothing to worry about."
"No more." Denethor growled. "From now on, you and your men will be fully outfitted."
love sprung up in Faramir's eyes for the man. "Thank you, Father."
Denethor smiled as he walked along the hallway to his office, fully intending to burn the papers that held the new tax reforms. He had to give his people something for Yuletide.... and why not give them some money back instead of taking more from them. He opened the doors and blinked stupidly as he saw Alan standing there, filing papers. "Alan what are you doing?" he gasped. "It's Yule man!" he cried. "Go back to your family! Tell them to dress in their finest, for they are all invited here to sup privately with myself and my family" He bustled the stunned man out. "Oh! And my physician is going to see to your little Tommy! He will never walk in pain again. This I, Denethor, son of Ecthelion, Lord of Gondor and holder of the White Rod do solemnly swear! Now come my dear Alan. Off you go!"
The stunned man suddenly turned a grateful smile on Denethor. "Thank you my lord. Thank you."
"Off with you." Denethor shooed him with a smile. A shadow graced his thoughts as he remembered his dear Finduilas, but then a distinct lightening came when he remembered her as a happy woman full of life.
He turned to look out the window that overlooked the city. Yes, today was a good day, full of feasting and thanksgiving and tenderness, love and family... He looked up as Boromir walked slowly beside a much recovered, if very unsteady, Faramir. Both were laughing and sharing stories of what they had been up to since they had parted ways. Both seemed to sense their father watching them and turned to look up at him. The two men bowed they heads and waved. Denethor bowed his own head in recognition of his sons. It was indeed a good day to be alive... Later that day over lunch, Denethor raised his glass in a toast. "To the lengthening of days and a new year ahead. May they come in peace."
O_O_O_O_O_O_O
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A/N: I'm aware that Imrahil has another son and at least one daughter, but for this story, they are in Dol Amroth with their mother. Oh and I'm well aware that I've made Denethor seem evilish..... but It's AU and he's a scrooge... what else could I do?