Chapter 2
The two men walked to their own rooms. They quickly donned their official robes that had been laid out on their beds and went into the Council Chamber.
When the Councillors stood up at their entrance, Aragorn felt their resentment towards him and his Steward more strongly than ever; it seemed to him that an invisible wall had risen with them, that he had to strive to break.
As usual, but with barely veiled ambition, the Councillors in turn expounded their claims. Aragorn, who had begun to be accustomed to this behaviour, quietly replied by invoking the law and the duties incumbent on them; but inside he was seething.
When a Councillor rose to demand higher taxes on wheat, claiming an unlikely royal treasury deficit, Aragorn glanced towards Faramir, who had not yet spoken. To his surprise, he noticed that the young man was very pale, his eyes fixed on a point at his feet.
"Are you unwell, my friend? "asked the King, putting an hand on his forearm.
Faramir gasped, as if under the effect of a blow; he jumped up and briskly got away from the King, knocking over his chair. On his face was read an unexpected expression : terror. Aragorn thought of a deer cornered by hounds after a long hunt.
Forcing himself to calm, he stepped forward and wanted to speak to the Steward; but his soothing words died on his lips when, with an inarticulate cry, Faramir flew at him.
Aragorn dodged the furious charge, but with a surprisingly smooth movement, Faramir spun around and threw his hands to the King's throat. The latter found himself pinned against the wall, his hands gripping Faramir's wrists. With painful astonishment, he looked at the fair face of Faramir, a few inches from his, breathless, his eyes wide, mad with fear.
Yes. He was mad.
Aragorn's hold suddenly gave way when Faramir was violently pulled back by two Councillors, who had seized his shoulders. With a cry, the Steward struggled furiously and fell to the ground, with his two opponents. A guard, who had probably entered the room on hearing the din, helped them to hold him down.
Aragorn knelt quietly. There was no anger, no desire to kill in Faramir's look; only the fear that grips every man engaged with people wanting to harm him, and drives him to defend his life.
The Steward flinched violently when Aragorn put his hand on his forehead, but gradually his wild movements subsided and he closed his eyes. The silence was absolute, broken only by Faramir's hoarse gasps.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he opened his eyes and looked at the King. All fear was gone from his eyes, which now just showed great confusion.
"My lord, he murmured, what ...? "
But before Aragorn could utter a word, the First Counsellor, one of three who had stayed away, stepped forward and pointed a finger at Faramir.
"This man is guilty of an attempted regicide! He deserves death! "