Sixth level, Minas Tirith
Hwínor, lord of Lamedon POV
Hwínor leans back against the chair and takes a deep breath. He hears the same thing being done all around him. He smiles momentarily before removing it. One thing is for sure; they share his feelings. Feelings of frustration. Of irritation. And besides, he's got no idea why no one is willing to aid them. Just like everyone here does.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why does no one want to aid us?"
"I've got no real idea besides them being cowards or ignorant."
He smiles uneasily. He can understand this sentiment. Around him, other lords are nodding or frowning. It is split evenly between these expressions.
"Which one is worse?"
"No idea but one thing for sure."
"And that is?"
"They deem their opinion to be nothing but logical. What we've got to figure out is what the reason behind it is. So we can change their logic."
For the next thirty minutes, the discussion turns to the reasons those idiotic lords have for disagreeing with them. Some are ridiculous but others are reasonable. Nevertheless, they thoroughly discuss every reason they can think of. They want to make sure they have every ground covered. Hwínor hopes they might find something which they can use to finally convince them. As such, he makes sure he contributes thoroughly to the discussions. In the end, they manage to determine the most likely reasons. It is then they move toward the backup plan. For that, he has a good idea. Now only making sure his plan will be followed.
"There's someone we haven't approached just yet."
"No, we're not doing that. Lord Denethor will discover it immediately then. It's a terrible idea."
"I say we stick with our previous plan."
"Well, I agree with lord Hwínor in that we need something different now. But I disagree with his plan. It's too early. I say we create an insurgency."
Hwínor looks around and sees many lords nodding. So they agree with the idea for an insurgency but not his plan? This plan is something he deems too much. It could go horribly wrong. Horribly wrong quickly. And they don't know the Northerner just yet. He is the unknown variable they still need to take into account. He scratches his chin as he thinks about it.
"Lord Hwínor. What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing important. Just that it could go horribly wrong very quickly. And as we don't know this northerner, we cannot predict how wrong it can go."
"Aye, we know how Lord Denethor would react to an insurgency."
"Aye, and that's the reason we know better than to anger him."
"True, but I would not put that danger as similar as Lord Denethor's. We can surely handle whatever this Northerner will do to us."
"Aye, the Northener we can handle but what would Lord Denethor…"
"I know what you mean. Lord Denethor could be turned against us. And that's something we can't have."
Around six lords nod. Hwínor joins them. This is one of the real dangers of creating an insurgency. He's glad he's not alone in this. One lord looks not convinced.
"It won't."
Another seven nod in response to this. Almost immediately, the groups begin to argue. Each side is accusing the other of being cowards. And a plethora of other things. Hwínor initially joins the arguing but stops once it becomes more volatile. Once people are insulting each other. He is not interested in such conflicts. He will stay out of it, thank you very much. After some time, Pedwegon breaks the argument violently.
"Silence!"
Silence falls in the room almost within seconds. He looks to Pedwegon hoping for some kind of reaction. Or at least to explain what he has gotten planned. He finds none. Only an expressionless cease.
"Is it possible to find a middle road?"
"What? Give up on using more extreme measures? Never."
Multiple voices echo the denial. Those from his side also protest. Hwínor meets Pedwegon's eyes. This time he sees emotions. His own reflected in Pedwegon's eyes. They cannot believe what they're hearing. He does not want to give in but knows it is the only way.
After another moment of silence, arguing breaks out again. Only this time both sides are more than convinced to prove they're right. In the end, they decide to let each group do what they deem best. Hwínor knows their chances of success will dwindle because of it. It just cannot be helped. And besides, he refuses to give up.
Citadel, Minas Tirith
Denethor POV
Denethor walks into the council room and looks around. He waits near the door for the lords to arrive. They are meeting because Gil finally made the official claim this morning. Something he expected already. He was just waiting for it to be made. And it is the reason why he had called the council yesterday to meet at this time. As for the claim, he wants it to be acknowledged. And thus he will work towards it.
Footsteps echo into the room. He looks up as the arriving lords slowly walk into the room. Most arrive in groups while a few arrive alone. He taps his foot as he waits for everyone to arrive. And once the last lord has arrived, he looks around. They all sit down at the table. He walks forward and sits down. Then he looks around the room at every lord who has gathered. He suspects some will be creating problems. For whatever stupid reason they have. And they will do it soon or in the near future. The lords look at him questionably. He lifts an eyebrow but doesn't say anymore.
"I see you're all wondering why you're here."
"Not really. We've all heard the rumors. I'm sure we all can draw our conclusions from that."
"And those are?"
"That we might have a king again in the future. Is that true?"
"Based on the results of our meeting, we indeed may have a king again. The official claim was made earlier today. It is also the reason why Lord Halbarad and his son have joined us here. With all this said, I let lord Halbarad explain the claim in detail."
"Where is our new king? Does he not want to meet us?"
"My lord Aragorn will only enter the city again as king."
"Ah, is that so?"
The condensing voice. Who is it? Denethor looks around. Lords Hwínor, Pedwegon, and Lathron all look as if they agree with the speaker. He cannot tell if one of them spoke or who did so. His eyes narrow at them. So their group will be causing problems. He should have expected it. He glances at Lord Halbarad for a moment. Lord Halbarad looks calm. He frowns.
"Indeed. Lord Aragorn is a direct descendant from father to son from Arvedui and Fíriel, and thus from Valandil, Isildur and Elendil. Through Fíriel's adar from Anárion to Ondoher."
He ignores what Halbarad further says. His entire attention is locked on the faces of the lords present. All to try and gauge their thoughts. So far they seem to be leaning toward accepting the claim. At least the majority is. Seconds after lord Halbarad finishes his explanation, everyone begins to voice their thoughts on the claim. Some even at the same time. He listens carefully just as lord Halbarad does. Any doubts some lords have are immediately addressed by Lord Halbarad. It results in more lords seeming to agree with the claim. He smiles. It just shows the claim is strong.
Suddenly a loud voice breaks through the discussion. A voice filled with anger and denial. Others are quick to follow him. Together they're quick to make a case for denying the claim. Some lords seem to be considering their arguments. Denethor clenches his fists. Thankfully, it stops once Faramir speaks about the accomplishment Gil has achieved in the past.
At this, a fight breaks out between the groups. Denethor winces behind his mask. This will not end well. And he needs the entire council to agree for the claim to be accepted. Not to have Gil crowned but more to avoid problems for Gil in the future. He waits for a while to see if they manage to resolve their conflict on their own.
"Quiet! As it seems everyone has had enough, I will suspend this meeting. Consider the developments and your behavior for our meeting tomorrow afternoon. We meet as the sun reaches its peak."
He closes the door behind him with a loud bang. Then he clenches his fist and takes a few deep breaths. He wants to scream. Loudly. He just can't as it's unseemly for one of his position to act like that. But those lords! They're so annoying just as he thinks about them. They were using every argument they could think of. Any argument, no matter how useless. And they did not seem to take a hint when their arguments were shot down. They do not want the change. Something which is inevitable. If only for Gondor to reach its former glory. And worst, he has no grounds for dismissing it. Even if they try to give him any reason they can think of. They need to realize that change is inevitable. Thus they need to have their minds changed.
But how? Words had no effect. So it's not something he can use. And he has no idea what else he can use. He cannot use force, physical or mental, to change their mind. It's not the precedent he wants to set. And will it be different later? He hopes for it but has his doubts. It might be better if he ignores it during tomorrow's meeting. It has its risks. He knows it. They could increase their opposition or cause any number of problems. This is a risk he doesn't want to face. So this is also not a solution.
He sits at his desk and opens a drawer. He digs through it. He needs a paper which he has kept in there for years. One which has been kept hidden from everyone for years. His father is the first one who has kept this paper there. He just continued with it. After a while, he finally manages to locate the papers. He puts them on the desk and leans back to stretch his back. He hisses as he pulls on his wounds. He thought they would have been healed better by now. After taking a deep breath, he read it. He knows what's in it but still wants to read it. Just to be sure.
A good hour later, the door opens. Denethor looks up. A servant enters with a tray. Steaming food and a cup stand on the tray. He puts the papers down and organizes them. Then, he pushes them to the side.
"My lord, some refreshment for you."
"Thank you. Put it on the desk before me."
The servant puts the tray on his desk. He sees her eyes trailing over to the papers he has put to the side. His hand moves the paper to block her sight of it. His eyes, in the meantime, land on the servant and narrow.
"What do you think you are doing?"
"Nothing, my lord. I just heard a few things and was curious."
"Something you should make sure to temper in the future. Do not have me hear about you looking into papers that you should not look into. It makes you look like a spy. Now leave!"
"Yes, my lord."
She bows and hurriedly runs out of the room. He almost feels bad for her look. One of obvious fear and remorse. As well as her eyes brimming with tears. But he does not feel bad for her. She must be new and has learned an important lesson right now. She will not make the same mistake again. She will not like the consequences if she fails.
He shakes his head before eating some of the refreshments. His eyes land repeatedly on the paper. He wonders if they can help him achieve his goal. If they will have the effect he seeks. Just as he thinks this, he realizes something; they'll question its legality. It is something he's got to overcome. And it might be the best option he has. These papers will convince those hesitant lords. He is sure of it. As such, he will follow through on it. And those it will not are a lost cause to him. He will not spend more time on them.
Sixt level, Minas Tirith
Hwínor, lord of Lamedon POV
Walking through the sixth leave, Hwínor looks around. Everyone is busy and walks easily. As if there is no worry for the future. How can they do that? Especially after today's council meeting. Many lords are in agreement with the claim. At a time when they should not. Nevertheless, it might be a partial success they've got now. Or so he hopes. The meeting is adjourned. Everyone was told to think about the words. Or so he interprets it. And if not, then everyone will be considering their words.
As for himself, he will not change his opinion. Gondor does not need a king. Not now or ever. The stewards have ruled just fine. Nothing needs to change. He is certain of it. As for right now, he will meet with his allies. They need to determine what to do with these developments. It is the only way to prevent the Northener to be crowned against the wishes.
A building grows before him. He has finally reached his destination. Others are already moving into the building. He quickens his steps. He does not want to be late or the last to arrive. Within a few minutes, he joins the others in the dining room waiting for the meeting to begin. As he waits, he talks to a few lords about rumors. He does not dare to touch on the events of the previous meeting yet. After some time, a voice breaks through all conversations.
"Now that everyone has arrived, we need to speak about the past meeting."
"What's there to discuss?"
"Quite a lord, Lord Pedwegon. Quite a lot. Like what your thoughts are of the meeting."
Murmuring breaks out among the group. Hwínor cannot understand what everyone is saying exactly. Nevertheless, he hears some words which tell him they are discussing the meeting. He shares a look with some. They shake their heads at him. He bites his lips. He wants to interrupt their conversation but knows it will not be appreciated. As such, he listens more closely to what those near him are saying but only for a limited amount of time. Once it has passed, he decides to break the silence.
"Care to share your thoughts?"
"I am still convinced we do not need a king. For that, we need to change our steward's mind. And based on the meeting it will be hard work."
"But you think we can succeed?"
"Yes, we can. I am certain of it."
"I do not share your confidence."
"Are you backing out?"
"Out of this plan of action, yes. However, it does not mean I am suddenly accepting of a king. That I am not."
All around him Hwínor sees people nodding as well as frowning. A few even bite their lips. It causes him to also frown. He wonders what is going through their minds. He is about to speak up when Pedwegon beats him to it.
"Care to share what is on your mind?"
"I do not plan to back out of our plan of action simply because I believe we have already lost. There is nothing more we can do to stop the king from ascending the throne."
"We can do a lot of things yet!"
"No, we cannot. We are a minority which has to accept the judgment of the majority."
Around him, nearly half of those gathered nod. Are they in agreement with this lord? They cannot. As for this lord, he refuses to call him by name. The coward does not deserve it.
"There are always minorities. And they always can, and at times have changed the minds of enough people to attain a majority for their plans."
It quickly turns into a motivational speech. Hwínor has to stop himself from joining in, convinced he has nothing to add. The others are doing a good job at it already. He will sit back and watch their work unfold in the right direction. Or so he hopes. After a while, it reaches a high.
"There is no way for us to succeed now."
"We can. We just have to find a way to succeed. Which we can. I just want to have said it before anyone hints at anything else."
After this, it quickly turns into the direction of discussion options. Many options are offered and either dismissed or put to the side. A few options keep coming back; captain-general Faramir, the other lords, or giving up. The last one is dismissed and those who offered it receive a preach. The same one as was given before. It means there are only two reasonable options.
"So what do you think about these options?"
"What I think? Captain-general Faramir is our best option. The other lords are a lost cause. As was proven before."
"I think we should make another attempt to get them on our side. Maybe the meeting has made them susceptible. And we will not know if they are a lost cause until we try. But I agree we need to focus also on Captain-general Faramir. If the other lords fail then he will be our best chance."
And once more ideas are thrown in the group for both his options. They are discussed before they decide to focus more on captain-general Faramir. The other lords can be handled once they have the captain-general on their side. It will increase their chances.
