VIII. Another Evening
Pulling their dirty clothes back on for the moment, the brothers walked companionably up to their rooms.
"Do you know if we are having just a family dinner again tonight, or if we are eating in the Great Hall?" Faramir asked.
"Father didn't say," Boromir frowned. "I suppose we should try the chamber up here, and if he is not there then we can go down to the Great Hall. I will knock at your door in twenty minutes, all right?"
As Faramir changed into his dark red tunic and grey trousers, he thought over the conversations he had had with Mithrandir that day. Choosing evil, he mused. I still don't really understand that. I think I can see how someone might fall into evil unknowingly, but not why a person would turn to evil deeds deliberately. Perhaps this evening or tomorrow I can ask Boromir what he thinks. He has worked and lived with many men, yes, and fought our enemies too. I'm sure he has had to deal with prisoners. Perhaps he understands all this more than I, and can explain it.
He took up the wide-toothed comb on the washstand and pulled it carefully through his damp and tangled hair. He was just slipping on his soft indoor shoes when Boromir's knock sounded at the door and his brother entered.
"Ready yet?"
Faramir looked up. Boromir, too, had dressed carefully tonight, and looked every inch the son of the Steward of Gondor in a dark green tunic with silver leaves embroidered around the neck and wrists. His dark hair was caught back in a carved leather clasp, and he had even somehow managed to find time to have his beard trimmed.
"You look well," said Faramir, and added apprehensively, "Is there something special happening of which I have not heard?"
Boromir shook his head. "No, but Father remarked this afternoon that I need not look shabby simply because I had only just returned from the field. You know how he can be," and he gave his brother a tight smile that quickly faded from his face.
Faramir sighed. He certainly did know, but it was unusual for Denethor to make that kind of remark to his elder son. Ordinarily his more cutting words were reserved for the awkwardness of the younger.
"Actually his words were, 'If you persist in dressing like a common soldier, no noble will respect you and none of their daughters will look at you.' So I thought it best to dress the part of the fine nobleman tonight, and avoid any further quarrel. That is all," said Boromir, turning and leading the way out of Faramir's room.
The family chamber, when they reached it, proved to hold only Mithrandir, standing at the window and gazing westward into the darkling roses and golds of the clouds on the horizon. He turned his head as the brothers entered the room.
"Good evening," he greeted them. "Denethor left a message that he was called urgently to deal with some business, but that he should return within an hour, or two at most. He asked that we begin the meal without him, if we desired."
Boromir raised his eyebrows at Faramir, who shrugged in reply.
"How surprising of Father," remarked Boromir. "In general he requires us to wait, if he is delayed by pressing affairs of state."
"I imagine it is in deference to me, do you not suppose? Perhaps he feels that the elderly should be accommodated to a greater extent than youth?" asked the wizard, a gleam in his eye and a wry twist to his mouth. "Still, since you say he prefers you to wait, we shall do so. He most courteously ordered a flagon of a very good wine to be brought. Will you join me in a cup? We can talk until your father's arrival."
Boromir nodded, and filled a goblet of wine for himself. He paused, and then poured one for Faramir as well, mixing it half-and-half with water. Faramir accepted the cup and sipped tentatively. He rarely drank wine and did not mind at all that his brother had watered his share.
"Of what would you speak, Lord Mithrandir?" said Boromir, seating himself in one of the heavy oaken chairs and stretching his legs in front of him. Mithrandir moved to sit in one of the pair of leathern chairs on either side of the hearth. Faramir noted that he did not take the worn chair that was clearly Denethor's, but the other. For his part, Faramir chose a seat from which he could watch both his brother and his new teacher as they conversed.
"Why, anything you please," answered the wizard. "If you like, you could tell me something about your city and your land. For although I have traveled in Gondor many times, I do not know the country as would one for whom it is home."
Faramir wondered if Mithrandir knew he could have chosen no better subject for the conversation. Boromir's love for his land shone on his face like the last light in the West as he leaned forward to speak.
"Minas Tirith has no equal," he began. "Surely not in strength, and I daresay not in beauty either, at least not among the cities of Men. She has never been taken by force, and shall not be, as long as I and mine draw breath. The White City is fair and proud and strong, and she serves as guardian to the rest of Gondor. The plains of Lebennin would bear no golden grain, the hills of Pinnath Gelin no fruit, were Minas Tirith not their strong bulwark."
"Do you then see the city as predominant over the countryside?" inquired Mithrandir.
Boromir thought about the question for several moments before answering. "I see them as partners, as equals. The city is a warrior, as some of the women among the Rohirrim are reputed to be, and she defends her weaker sister from the Enemy. But without the country, Minas Tirith also would starve and fail. They need and support each other, as all true siblings must." He sighed.
"I do not know for how long she can endure, though," he said sadly. "Each year we lose ground to the Enemy. His forces multiply, and the green dells of Ithilien are trampled bit by bit by Orcs' feet and filled with the stench of their foul burnings. Meanwhile our oldest kindreds wither, their sons falling untimely in Gondor's defense. We shall never be conquered unresisting, but I begin to fear that in the end this land will not last. May it not be in my time!"
"No, nor in any of our times," agreed Mithrandir. "But I did not intend that you should speak of such dark things. Perhaps you would rather talk of something else?"
Boromir shook his head. "No, I am happy to tell you somewhat of Gondor. I will simply try to keep my descriptions to what is, and not what might never come to pass!"
And for the next hour he spoke at length of the different lands within the realm: of the broad fields of Lebennin between Anduin and the Hills of Tarnost; of the gulls crying on rocky Tolfalas near the Ethir Anduin, in the Bay of Belfalas; of the rushing waters of the River Lefnui; of the mines near the Starkhorn in the White Mountains. Faramir listened as closely as Mithrandir, for he had not yet had the opportunity to visit much of Gondor far from Minas Tirith, although he had several times been to Dol Amroth where his uncle and cousins dwelt.
I hope that Father decides to have me travel through Gondor before I am placed into one of the fighting companies, he thought. Clearly there is far more to our land than I could ever imagine or understand clearly from Master Golasgil's tutelage alone!
Finally Boromir sketched his impressions of the Morthond Vale, in the north of which rose the Hill of Erech, where stood that stone where the lords of the mountains had sworn oaths to Isildur as king, at the very beginning of the age.
"I have seen Erech only from a distance, mind you," Boromir added. "The local folk avoid it in great fear, for it is haunted by the spirits of the Dead, the Men of Dunharrow. No sooner had they sworn allegiance to the king than they broke their word, and returned to the Dark Lord's fold. When the Enemy was defeated they were condemned to remain in and near the Ered Nimrais, whence they came, until the heir of Isildur should call them to fulfill their oaths at last. And since that may never come to pass, now that the line of the Kings is broken, it would seem that the hill will be inhabited by their spirits for all time."
As he finished these words, Faramir saw Mithrandir sit motionless for a moment, as if recalling something long forgotten.
"Indeed," breathed the wizard finally. "You are no doubt correct."
Now, what can that tale mean to one such as Master Mithrandir? Faramir wondered. Surely it is not new to him, though I had not heard it before. I knew of the oath-breaking, but not that the Dead haunted the Hill of Erech.
By this time the sun was long set, and the servants had discreetly lighted the tapers in all the sconces on the walls, and placed glowing lamps on the tables.
"I think we can wait no longer for the Steward," said Mithrandir abruptly. "I will claim the privilege of age that he offered me, and dine now."
He rose and asked Boromir, "Is there a bell I should ring, or will there be someone in the passage waiting upon our needs?"
"Try the hall first," was the reply. "Since we have delayed the meal, I would suppose that it will be ready to serve as soon as we ask, and that someone will be on hand to bring it."
Mithrandir strode towards the door, but it opened before he could reach it, and Denethor himself walked in. He appeared surprised.
"The table is still bare? I told you, did I not, Mithrandir, to dine without waiting for me, since I knew not when I might return?"
"You did, and I was about to bespeak our supper; we had just decided to delay no longer. Although naturally I preferred to dine with my host than without him, adept though his sons are at conversing in his place," responded the wizard.
Denethor raised his eyebrows, but did not reply. He merely turned in the doorway and spoke to the servant waiting beyond, bidding him to bring the meal at once.
Like the night before, the conversation dwelt mostly upon the war and how best to apportion troops and supplies to Gondor's greatest advantage. Denethor looked fatigued, the skin of his face slack and almost grey, even in the lamplight. But he spoke forcefully enough, arguing not uncivilly with Boromir's ideas, and even acknowledging Mithrandir's contributions. Faramir held his tongue, remembering his father's previous dismissal of his suggestions.
When dinner was over, and even Faramir was merely picking at the raisins more for something to occupy him than from hunger, Denethor pushed back his chair and spoke.
"It has been a long day, and I am weary. I must bid you all a good night. Mithrandir, if you wish to remain and converse further with my sons, or to study your books, please do so. Boromir, Faramir, rest well. And Boromir, before you begin your duties tomorrow, be sure to see me in my study in the Tower." He bowed slightly to Mithrandir, and left the room.
Mithrandir looked at his companions. "I believe I will return to my rooms as well, and not prevent you from spending a little more time together privately before Boromir must return to his company. Boromir, it was a pleasure to talk with you this evening. Faramir, I will see you in the archives tomorrow morning, if we do not break fast together first," and he too departed.
"Now, how did he know that we would want to talk?" Boromir questioned his brother.
"Why, that would simply be common sense. We are brothers, we see each other rarely, what could be more natural? I doubt it has anything to do with him being a wizard," said Faramir.
Boromir halted in his restless movement around the room and looked at Faramir. "You jest, my brother."
"No, really," protested the younger boy. "He told me so himself, and I saw him cast light from his staff."
"Too bad he cannot cast some spell to defeat our enemies," sighed Boromir. "A wizard would be a handy ally to have in these wars. Unless that is in fact his purpose here?"
"No," said Faramir regretfully. "He says that all his power is to persuade men to the side of good – he cannot force them to go against their natures, for that in itself would be evil."
Boromir shook his head. "What matters the reason, if he cannot carry out the action. But it is not our part to judge him, I suppose. Now. You did want to talk further, did you not, Faramir? Do you want to stay here, or go off to one of our rooms?"
"To your room, I think. I have but one comfortable chair in mine, while you have two, unless one has been removed since I was last there. And I expect that we should leave this chamber so that it may be tidied before morning," Faramir responded.
"Very well. Let me just ask to have something brought for us to drink, if our talk should go on all night," and Boromir grinned at Faramir, who wrinkled his nose in return.
"As long as you don't have them bring spiced wine, since you wouldn't let me have that anyway!" he said.
"Certainly not. Cider will suit me admirably."
They walked back down the passage together, and entered Boromir's room.
