X. A Morning with Mithrandir
Faramir jerked awake at the rapping on his door. He half-sat up, pulling the blankets around him, and said, "Who is it?"
The door eased open and his brother stepped into the room.
"Still asleep, were you? I thought I would see if you wanted to have breakfast with me this morning. Father seems to have already eaten and gone to the Tower, and though I must see him there soon, I have a little time yet," said Boromir.
Yawning, Faramir stepped out of bed and splashed his face with water to rub the sleep from his eyes.
"If you can wait but five minutes, I will be ready," he replied, looking for a pair of clean stockings.
"Certainly," said Boromir, closing the door and leaning against it.
Once Faramir had dressed, they walked quickly down the stairs to the Great Hall. Denethor had decided, when Boromir had left for service in his first company, that it was wasteful to have breakfast served in the family quarters, when he and Faramir rarely ate the meal together anyhow. Although Faramir understood and agreed with the principle, he sometimes regretted the reality. If he had to eat alone, he would prefer to be truly alone rather than solitary amid the usual crowd in the Hall.
"What are you doing today, Boromir?" Faramir asked through a mouthful of porridge.
"Before anything else I must see what Father wants me for this morning, and make the proposal you suggested last night. But most of the day, I hope, I will be arranging for the delivery of arms and provisions to resupply Osgiliath. First I must meet with Hallas and then with Quartermaster Eradan. And you?" Boromir returned.
"I am to meet Master Mithrandir down in the archives, I expect. Although I had thought to see him here," said Faramir, craning his neck to see if the wizard were elsewhere in the hall.
Boromir chuckled. "Well, you know that the children's tales say 'Do not meddle in the ways of wizards,' although I had never thought to put the line to the test. Perhaps he broke fast earlier; perhaps he does not eat the morning meal every day. Or perhaps he will appear soon. As long as you turn up in the archives in a timely manner I cannot imagine it will matter whether you see him beforehand."
"I wasn't worried about seeing him here, brother. I merely thought I might," said Faramir. "So it sounds as if you do not plan to leave until tomorrow at the earliest then?"
"It depends on what I can accomplish today. Probably I will leave tomorrow; although I have no fear that Cirion will do anything amiss in my absence, still I would prefer to be back in the field myself. And it is my duty," Boromir added as he saw dismay on Faramir's face. "Though I would enjoy spending more time with you, Faramir, we each have our different responsibilities. Do not forget that!"
"I had no thought to," Faramir said honestly. "Two days in Minas Tirith merely seems hardly worth the travel, that is all."
Boromir shrugged. "We do what we can, what we must."
He finished his last morsel of bread and rose. "If I see you not at the noon meal, and I probably will not, then this evening. Have a good day with Master Mithrandir – learn much!"
He strode out of the Hall, heading to the White Tower and his appointment with Denethor. Near the doorway, Faramir saw him pause to speak to someone.
Faramir grinned. That will be Serindë, he thought, and Boromir is telling her of Hunthor's accomplishments. She will be so pleased to hear good news of her brother!
Then he returned to his own meal, spooning the last few bites of porridge out of the bowl. He considered the hour, then got up to fetch himself some bread and honey and an apple.
"Your father does not stint, I see," came Mithrandir's voice from behind.
Faramir looked over his shoulder and saw the wizard balancing a plate in one hand and a mug of tea in the other, his staff held in the crook of his elbow.
"Let me take that for you," he said, relieving Mithrandir of the hot cup.
"Thank you," Mithrandir returned gravely. "Are you ready to work today?"
"Of course," said Faramir in some surprise. "Why would I not be?"
"No real reason, only that you might be tired, since you were up rather late last night with your brother. I was awake until a late hour myself, and heard your voices as I passed through the hallway," explained Mithrandir.
"Oh, that is no matter. Actually I am looking forward to today. What will you have me do?"
"First I will test your understanding of the Quenya letters, and begin you on some simple words and phrases in the tongue. But those you can study later today, or this evening. I think I will use you as my legs to go and find the books and scrolls that I wish to examine; that will be a more efficient use of my time," the wizard said.
Faramir thought guiltily that he had not studied the letters as he had promised, and hoped that he would remember them all.
"Did Master Ulbar show you his indexes?" he asked. "They are incomplete, but still useful, according to Master Golasgil, as they are comprehensive lists of the extant records for a given reign. I believe that they begin with my grandfather's rule and extend backward, but I do not know how far."
"No, I was not aware of those. Your Master Ulbar is clearly very conscientious about his duties; from what I saw yesterday the archives are far better run than they have been in many, many years," said Mithrandir, sipping his tea.
Faramir licked the honey from his fingers. "I am ready whenever you are, sir."
"Well, let us turn the day to good use, then." Mithrandir pushed his chair back.
They walked slowly across the court to the King's House and down the stone-flagged stairs to the bustling muniments room. After conferring with Ulbar for a few moments, Mithrandir nodded sharply and returned to the table where Faramir waited.
"It seems that the indexes reach back only through the time of the Stewards, so far, and not to the reigns of the Kings. So we will not be using those for some time. I find it easier, myself, to move forward rather than backward though the years, and prefer to begin with Meneldil. But first, your language lesson," said Mithrandir.
For fifteen minutes the wizard patiently took Faramir through the Elven alphabet once again, praising the boy's quick learning. Then he spoke a few simple words of Quenya, having Faramir write them down, first in the original tongue and then translated into both Sindarin and Westron for future study.
"That will do for now," said Mithrandir, and Faramir laid aside his quill in some relief. "Now, you said that your mother taught you your Sindarin, did you not? Your command of that language is very good."
"Yes, my mother taught us," said Faramir quietly. "She used to speak Sindarin with Boromir in the evenings, saying that this was an easier way to learn than through books, especially for an active lad such as my brother. I learned much just by listening to them, though I was still very young when she died. My father speaks it as well, more for formal occasions with the high nobles than for everyday use, and he required both of his sons to practice. I read poetry and stories in the language quite often in the evenings. And my uncle Imrahil and I often speak it when we see each other – though that is infrequently – I think he enjoys doing so in memory of his sister. Many of the folk of Dol Amroth speak the tongue regularly, though it is not a birth-language for any, even there."
"That explains matters," said Mithrandir. "Your accent is remarkably pure, compared to most who usually speak in the Common Tongue."
Faramir said nothing; he had never given thought to how he spoke the Elven language, merely imitating the pronunciation of his mother and uncle.
"A convenient ability, in any case," Mithrandir added briskly. "Which we will put to good use. I made a list last night of works I know I wish to consult; if you will please go try to find them for me," and he handed Faramir a slip of parchment.
The boy nodded and disappeared into the back rooms, returning some little time later, staggering under the weight of four huge volumes.
"I was only able to bring a few codices in this trip," he explained breathlessly. "I will bring the rest of them, and then the scrolls next."
When he had collected all the items on the wizard's list and piled them neatly on the table, Faramir inquired, "What would you have me do now, Master Mithrandir?"
Mithrandir shot him a glance from under bushy white brows. "Hmm. Difficult, since I am not entirely certain what I am looking for myself. But in general I am studying the course of events in Gondor – how she became sundered from the Dúnedain of the north, for instance, why her boundaries have ebbed and flowed over the centuries, and perhaps most importantly for any mention of Elves as political allies or even trading partners."
"Elves? Why are you interested in Gondor's contacts with the Elves?" asked Faramir.
"For one thing, it was only the alliance between Men and Elves that permitted the defeat of Sauron at the end of the Second Age," said Mithrandir tartly. Then he softened his voice. "I am sure that Master Golasgil has taught you well about events within Gondor, but there is much else to this land of Middle-earth. Elves and Men will not always have the same perspective on events, and that is to the good – each race has its own strengths. I have some idea how the Elves perceive Gondor and her people, but I would like to know the perspective of Gondor on the relationship."
"Where shall I start, then?"
"Begin with the court rolls that survive from Osgiliath, and look for any mention of trading concessions, special privileges granted to Elvish merchants, if there was any quarter of the city where Elves usually stayed – that sort of thing," Mithrandir told him.
Faramir sorted through the pile. When Osgiliath was destroyed, many of the original records of Gondor had been lost, and those that remained were unevenly scattered over the decades and centuries. He chose what appeared to be the earliest scroll and began to scan through it, bracing the roll of parchment with his left hand as he slowly unwound it with his right, letting the loose end curl over itself as he went. He was nearly halfway through the second scroll when he first saw Elves mentioned.
"Here, Master Mithrandir," he said, and nudged a codex aside to spread the crackling parchment in front of the wizard. "King Cemendur made an arrangement with King Thranduil of Greenwood to transship one hundred barrels of wine each year from Dorwinion, for the royal household. In return for a guaranteed price on the wine, the Elves who brought it were granted the right to use two warehouses and a large dwelling convenient to the River Anduin."
"Ah, excellent," said Mithrandir, making a note of the information. "That is the sort of thing I hoped to find, something that indicates the movements of different peoples and goods around the lands, and that shows with what degree of courtesy they treated one another."
"Why do you need to know all that sort of thing for such a long time ago? Surely it can have little to do with today?" questioned Faramir.
"You study the political alliances and wars of that period of Gondor's history, do you not?"
"Yes, of course; but that is important, that is politics," Faramir replied.
"Well, does not trade affect as many people, or more? If some particular item was once traded with the Elves, might it not be worth thinking about reestablishing the exchange, if possible, to the benefit of both peoples? It might even turn to practical purposes as well, to be on good terms," said Mithrandir.
Faramir thought about that for the remainder of the morning, even as he continued searching through the documents and showing Mithrandir what he found. I am not entirely sure I agree with Master Mithrandir; it is long since Gondor had much trade with the Elves, though we do some business with the Men to the north. But I suppose it is worth thinking of, as a possibility. I never really connected all these things together before. Father seems to talk most of politics, but he must pay attention to the rest as well.
