A group of men marched through Gondor. Tired, angry, and dangerous. They all had beards and were pretty thick-skinned. They gazed at the city of Minas Tirith and spat on the ground. They had been gazing at the city for so long. Deep in their hearts, they wanted to see the city burn to the ground for driving them away from their homes. They once lived in this land.
Their ancestors entrusted it to them. Now, they were without homes and without secure futures. Their leader, Gorron, gazed at the city and gave a disgusting smile.
"Such a lovely city," he grunted.
"There is rumors of a wedding to take place there," one of his men spoke up.
"How charming. I do love weddings. Drinks all around!" Gorron cackled.
He turned his gaze back to the city and rubbed his chin. "Would be a terrible thing to see such a thing ruined. Who is to be the groom and bride?"
"Word has it, that the king is to be married to a the niece of the late king of Rohan."
"This Aragorn, son of Arathorn, correct?"
"Yes, sir."
Gorron smiled a jagged tooth smile and chuckled. "To have the city's king taken would be a terrible thing, indeed."
The two men called for the rest of the group and schemed until nightfall. They all marched towards the city, armed with clubs, axes, and spears.
Faramir slept in his bed, allowing his wounds to heal and finally get a bit of rest. Eowyn filled his dreams and brought him a sense of peace. Little did he know of the chaos going on in the city.
Aragorn stared out at the city. His hands were clasped behind his back as he eyed his crown upon his desk. With a small sigh, he turned to leave his bedroom. He walked across the hall and bumped into Faramir.
Faramir bowed. "Terribly sorry!"
"Think nothing of it. Shouldn't you be resting, Faramir? You have to rebuild your strength if you're going to stand at that alter soon." Aragorn said with a smile.
"Yes, yes, I know. Don't tell Eowyn you saw me. I was just heading to get a good look at the city before I return to sleep. Bit of a tradition for me."
Aragorn nodded. "If it comforts you, the view from my room is quite a sight. I was going to visit Arwen down at the library. Won't be long."
"Thank you." Faramir said with another bow.
They parted ways and Faramir eyed Aragorn's bedroom. With a bit of hesitation, he entered and smiled to himself when he saw that Aragorn was an earnest. The view was remarkable. The dark mountains of Mordor were seen and the bright lights from Minas Tirith glistened with the stars in the sky. He turned his head when he saw something glisten from inside the room.
Aragorn's crown sat on his desk. Faramir approached it and gently placed his hand onto it. He took it in his hands and turned his head when he heard several screams. His eyes narrowed as he hurried to the balcony.
People scattered and the streets were chaotic as Faramir spotted a group of hairy and aggressive men approach the castle.
"Eowyn," he mumbled.
Before he could turn to leave the room, a rope with a claw attached itself to the blacony. Faramir backed away, looking for a weapon. He couldn't even find a knife. Without thinking, he hurried towards the rope, placing the crown on the desk.
He grabbed the rope, trying to untie its strong grip on the balcony. A large hand wrapped around his wrist and hoisted its owner towards Faramir's face. A man with round cheeks and a large beard cackled in his face.
"Well, thank you, lad!"
Faramir struggled to draw his hand back, but the stranger held it tightly. He pushed Faramir backwards into the room as he approached him.
"Don't suppose you could help me, lad. My men and I are only looking for someone and we'll be gone," the stranger said, raising an eyebrow.
Faramir tried to keep his breathing steady. "What do you want? Who are you looking for? Who are you people?"
"Lot of questions there, lad. Name's Gorron. All my men want is the king of this land. Aragorn, son of Arathorn."
Faramir felt his stomach tighten. He glanced at the table where the crown sat, and swallowed.
Gondor needs their king...
Gorron began to grow impatient. He drew an axe that hung on his back. He approached Faramir and pressed the blade at his throat. "You're testing my patient, boy. Tell me where he is!"
Faramir gasped when he heard more men burst into the room. They growled at him and held their weapons tightly in their hands, waiting to kill any living thing in their way.
"I...I am Aragorn."
Gorron raised both eyebrows in surprise. Faramir feared he wouldn't believe him. He kept a straight face and felt relieved when an evil grin spread across Gorron's face. He pulled his axe away from Faramir and laughed aloud. "Well, this is a mighty coincidence, isn't it?"
"I will go with you, but you must leave the city untouched and unharmed." Faramir, trying to sound as brave as Aragorn.
Gorron smirked. "Done. Lads? Let's move."
Suddenly, two large hands grabbed Faramir, but he did not fight. His hands were bound tightly behind him, and a bag was placed over his head. He was led roughly out of the room. He couldn't see a thing. After taking several steps, he was stopped. He heard Gorron's thunderous voice.
"Listen, well, Minas Tirith! Several years ago, you took this land from us. You took our homes and our hope. Now, we are taking yours. Your precious king!"
Faramir heard several cackles and cheers. Then, they were on the move again. After about an hour or so, the bag was removed from his head. He was in a camp in the forest. Several tents surrounded the area. Fires were lit with many of the men surrounding them, drinking and laughing aloud. He felt a large hand on his shoulder and was dragged forward.
Gorron raised his axe and gave a loud yell. All the men in the camp yelled back, no doubt this was their cry of victory. Faramir stared at all the men and realized there was no way he would escape without being seen or cut in half in one slice.
"Well, take a good look, lads! The land of Gondor was once ours!"
"YEAH!" the men yelled.
"Now, we have taken their king, and they will surely burn to the ground in chaos!" Gorron yelled, grabbing Faramir's chin.
"KILL HIM!"
Faramir felt his heart racing. Gorron glanced down at him and smirked. "Shall I?"
Faramir swallowed. Gorron grabbed his shirt collar and pushed him forward, causing him to fall to his knees. Then, he grabbed a handful of his hair and drew his head back. The crowd cheered and Gorron cackled. Faramir closed his eyes, and pictured Eowyn's smile and eyes. Her hair flying as the wind blew against her face.
"But, wait." Gorron said, midst the noise.
He looked down at Faramir and smirked. "Perhaps we could use this to our advantage."
Gorron turned his attention back to the crowd and yelled, "Let's use their puny king to control the land! Then, we spill his blood on their great city's steps!"
"BLOOD! BLOOD!" the crowd chanted.
Gorron grabbed the back of Faramir's shirt and hoisted him back to his feet. He dragged him into a large tent and threw him down on the ground. The tent was rather large, filled with animals skins and furniture. The tent was held up by a post in the middle of it. Gorron dragged Faramir towards it and bound him to it.
"No use in working out an escape plan, Your Hignness. Ain't no way you're going to escape." Gorron assured him.
Faramir sat and gazed up at the large man. "I have no intention of running away. A king keeps his word."
Gorron cackled. "Aren't you such a good king? Well, eat this."
He spat in Faramir's face and laughed. Faramir shut his eyes as saliva ran down his face. Gorron finally left him alone for a moment and walked over to a table. He sat down and glanced down at a map that laid upon it. He began to scribble upon it and grunted.
Faramir stared down at his boots, remembering that he had a knife inside of them. Somehow he had to get ahold of it. Gorron stood up from the table and stepped outside. Faramir finally got a chance to sag his shoulders and hang his head. His wrists burned from the ropes binding them and cringed.
Gorron returned with a kettle and a goblet in his hand. He poured hot water into the goblet and took a long drink from it. He glanced at Faramir and smirked.
"Thirsty, sire?"
Faramir shook his head.
Gorron didn't believe him. He stood up and held the goblet in front of Faramir's face. The steam clouded his face and Gorron laughed. "Come on. Have a drink."
Faramir clenched his jaw. "I'd rather not."
Demanding to be satisfied, Gorron grabbed Faramir's chin and shook it, violently. "Open your mouth!"
Holding his breath, Faramir refused. Gorron angrily grunted and tossed the boiling liquid onto Faramir's face. He gave a small cry from the burning liquid as it stung and burned his face. Gorron threw the goblet aside and calmed down. His breathing was so loud and his breath wreaked.
"Sleep well, sire. We move in the morning." Gorron spat.
He stepped behind Faramir for a moment as Faramir felt his face cool down. Suddenly, a rag was wrapped between his lips and tied behind his head. He cringed and gave a small grunt. Gorron stepped in front of him with a content grin.
"Sweet dreams," he grunted.
Then, he turned and left Faramir alone in the tent. Sudden thoughts of regret filled his mind. Had he made the right choice in taking Aragorn's place? What would happen if Gorron found out the truth? Was Eowyn alright? Had she already realized he was missing? Why had he done this?
Aragorn could handle himself. Faramir hung his head in regret and decided to get some sleep. But, how could he sleep? He prayed that this secret would go on for as long as possible. For his own sake and for Gondor's.
~x~