Chapter 4: An Audience With the Steward
When Auron had finally came to his senses, he found that he was lying on his back in the middle of a large feild. He sat up slowly and looked at his surroundings, his shades askew.
"Well Jecht, I see you're up to no good again..." He mumbled as he straightened his glasses. His sword was lying by his right leg, and his jug was by his left. When he finally pushed himself up to his feet, he paused to look at his surroundings.
Way off in the distance, sparkling more than anything Auron had ever seen, ran the great Anduin River. He looked across that river at the mountains that shot up flames. 'Where have you taken me, Jecht...' He thought, watching as the flames licked the clouds above them. There were trees in the distance in every direction, except for the one behind him.
For the first time he looked upon Minas Tirith. It was sparkling white, the sun reflecting off of the highest point. There were layer upon layer of houses and shops, each resting on a higher part of the mountain on which the city was built. At the very top there was a great building, which Auron thought must house the ruler of the city.
Slowly, he made his way to Minas Tirith, not knowing what to expect from the people there. As he grew near, he began to see the actual size of the place. When he approached the gate, a voice sounded from overhead.
"Halt!" it said. Auron complied. "State your name and business," The voice called again.
"I am Auron, I wish to speak with your ruler," Auron said.
"You mean the Steward?" The guard retorted, a little confused.
"If that's who he is," Auron answered.
"For who are you speaking for?" The guard asked, wanting to know who sent him.
"Myself," answered Auron simply. There was a pause, but the gates were slowly lifted. As he entered, he was immediatly stopped by two men on horse back.
"This guard here tells us you wish to speak with our father," said the one on the right. He was fair-faced and bearded, riding straight-backed with proud posture.
"Then he told you correct," Auron said.
"To what do we owe this visit?" Asked the other man. He looked like the first, but was a little smaller.
"I am lost, and I need to know where I am," Auron said.
"Lost? How can you consider being at Minas Tirith being lost?" Laughed the first.
"I've never been to Minas Tirith, nor do I care to see it any closer. However, I need to find my friends soon," Auron said. The other two looked at each other, each with a half angry, half impressed face.
"I am Boromir of Gondor," said the first man.
"Faramir, his brother," said the second.
"I am Auron, and my time is short. As I said, I need to find my friends. One of them may be in danger," Auron said. In truth, he was worried about Yuna. The others he knew could take care of themselves (Except perhaps Tidus and his quick decisions), but Yuna was different. She needed a guardian with her at times like these.
"And how do you think Denethor, Steward of Gondor, will be able to help you? How do you know he'll even see you?" Asked Faramir
"Because. You said he was your father. He'll see me if I am taken to him by you two," Auron said. He adjusted his sword on his shoulder and for the first time the two men seemed to notice it.
Their mouths opened slightly as they saw the size of his blade. They weren't afraid of it, just impressed that he would carry it on his back as he walked.
"Follow us, then. We shall see if he will grant you an audience," said Boromir. The two men turned their horses and started up the ascending path that led to the top of Minas Tirith. The people of Minas Tirith watched as Auron passed, curious and scared at the same time.
Finally, after several minutes of walking, they were at the top. There was a dead white tree in the middle of a gorgeous courtyard, and white paths going around it and then up to a large door. Boromir and Faramir left their horses behind, and signaled for Auron to follow them. When they got to the door on the other side, the told him to wait as they went in.
Auron walked over to a chest-high wall that overlooked the field he just left. From there, he could see everything far better, and he knew that he recognized nothing at all. The door suddenly opened, and Faramir showed him inside.
Denethor was sitting in a chair which was positioned in front of a beautiful throne. He was eating quickly from a plate that rested on a table in front of him.
"Father, this is Auron," Boromir said. Denethor looked up slowly, stopped eating, and whiped his face.
"I see..." he said finally.
"He is lost," Faramir said.
"I see..." Denethor said again.
"Have any of your men seen any people you didn't recognize?" Auron asked. Denethor was silent, noticing that Auron had not properly addressed him.
"My men see people they do not know almost daily. But my men have the sense about them to properly address me, now don't they?" Denethor said.
"And if you'll remember, I am not one of your men," Auron said. Denethor coughed, Boromir gasped, but Faramir was silent.
"You will show more respect to the Steward if you wish to continue speaking to him!" Boromir shouted, his hand finding the hilt of his sword. "Or I will make sure you are not speaking at all."
"I notice that you are not sitting in the beautiful throne behind you," Auron said to Denethor, noticing the change in attitude in Boromir. "That must mean it isn't your throne to sit in."
Denethor was silent.
"And if it isn't your throne to sit in, that means there is someone else who should be ruling this place," Auron continued.
Denethor was still silent.
"And if someone else should be ruling, then you are nothing more than a temporary solution to a problem that will face this city in the future," Auron said. There was silence in the room for some time before Denethor broke it.
"What do you want, peasant? Are you a Harad-Warrior here to decieve me? Are you one of Sauron's spies?" Denethor asked, now standing.
"I know nothing of which you speak, wrongful ruler," Auron said. "I simply seek my friends, which I have told to both of your sons already," Auron said. Boromir unsheathed his sword and was ready to strike when Faramir drew his own. He parryed his brother's swing.
"No blood shall be spilled in this room," he said, fire in his eyes. Boromir slowly lowered his weapon.
"Wise choice," Auron said. He turned and looked back at Denethor. "Now will you help me find my friends or not?" he asked.
The room was silent for some time. Denethor stared at Auron, and Auron stared right back. Faramir and Boromir watched on cautiously, expecting Denethor to explode with rage. Surprisingly, he was calm when he spoke.
"You will travel to Rivendell with Boromir. I'm sure you will find more help there. Besides, Your foul feet should have never stepped foot in Minas Tirith. The sooner you leave, the better," Denethor said, returning to his seat.
"Father, I must protest," Boromir said.
"But it would do you no good, I'm afraid," Denethor cut in. "He will go with you to Rivendell."
When Auron had finally came to his senses, he found that he was lying on his back in the middle of a large feild. He sat up slowly and looked at his surroundings, his shades askew.
"Well Jecht, I see you're up to no good again..." He mumbled as he straightened his glasses. His sword was lying by his right leg, and his jug was by his left. When he finally pushed himself up to his feet, he paused to look at his surroundings.
Way off in the distance, sparkling more than anything Auron had ever seen, ran the great Anduin River. He looked across that river at the mountains that shot up flames. 'Where have you taken me, Jecht...' He thought, watching as the flames licked the clouds above them. There were trees in the distance in every direction, except for the one behind him.
For the first time he looked upon Minas Tirith. It was sparkling white, the sun reflecting off of the highest point. There were layer upon layer of houses and shops, each resting on a higher part of the mountain on which the city was built. At the very top there was a great building, which Auron thought must house the ruler of the city.
Slowly, he made his way to Minas Tirith, not knowing what to expect from the people there. As he grew near, he began to see the actual size of the place. When he approached the gate, a voice sounded from overhead.
"Halt!" it said. Auron complied. "State your name and business," The voice called again.
"I am Auron, I wish to speak with your ruler," Auron said.
"You mean the Steward?" The guard retorted, a little confused.
"If that's who he is," Auron answered.
"For who are you speaking for?" The guard asked, wanting to know who sent him.
"Myself," answered Auron simply. There was a pause, but the gates were slowly lifted. As he entered, he was immediatly stopped by two men on horse back.
"This guard here tells us you wish to speak with our father," said the one on the right. He was fair-faced and bearded, riding straight-backed with proud posture.
"Then he told you correct," Auron said.
"To what do we owe this visit?" Asked the other man. He looked like the first, but was a little smaller.
"I am lost, and I need to know where I am," Auron said.
"Lost? How can you consider being at Minas Tirith being lost?" Laughed the first.
"I've never been to Minas Tirith, nor do I care to see it any closer. However, I need to find my friends soon," Auron said. The other two looked at each other, each with a half angry, half impressed face.
"I am Boromir of Gondor," said the first man.
"Faramir, his brother," said the second.
"I am Auron, and my time is short. As I said, I need to find my friends. One of them may be in danger," Auron said. In truth, he was worried about Yuna. The others he knew could take care of themselves (Except perhaps Tidus and his quick decisions), but Yuna was different. She needed a guardian with her at times like these.
"And how do you think Denethor, Steward of Gondor, will be able to help you? How do you know he'll even see you?" Asked Faramir
"Because. You said he was your father. He'll see me if I am taken to him by you two," Auron said. He adjusted his sword on his shoulder and for the first time the two men seemed to notice it.
Their mouths opened slightly as they saw the size of his blade. They weren't afraid of it, just impressed that he would carry it on his back as he walked.
"Follow us, then. We shall see if he will grant you an audience," said Boromir. The two men turned their horses and started up the ascending path that led to the top of Minas Tirith. The people of Minas Tirith watched as Auron passed, curious and scared at the same time.
Finally, after several minutes of walking, they were at the top. There was a dead white tree in the middle of a gorgeous courtyard, and white paths going around it and then up to a large door. Boromir and Faramir left their horses behind, and signaled for Auron to follow them. When they got to the door on the other side, the told him to wait as they went in.
Auron walked over to a chest-high wall that overlooked the field he just left. From there, he could see everything far better, and he knew that he recognized nothing at all. The door suddenly opened, and Faramir showed him inside.
Denethor was sitting in a chair which was positioned in front of a beautiful throne. He was eating quickly from a plate that rested on a table in front of him.
"Father, this is Auron," Boromir said. Denethor looked up slowly, stopped eating, and whiped his face.
"I see..." he said finally.
"He is lost," Faramir said.
"I see..." Denethor said again.
"Have any of your men seen any people you didn't recognize?" Auron asked. Denethor was silent, noticing that Auron had not properly addressed him.
"My men see people they do not know almost daily. But my men have the sense about them to properly address me, now don't they?" Denethor said.
"And if you'll remember, I am not one of your men," Auron said. Denethor coughed, Boromir gasped, but Faramir was silent.
"You will show more respect to the Steward if you wish to continue speaking to him!" Boromir shouted, his hand finding the hilt of his sword. "Or I will make sure you are not speaking at all."
"I notice that you are not sitting in the beautiful throne behind you," Auron said to Denethor, noticing the change in attitude in Boromir. "That must mean it isn't your throne to sit in."
Denethor was silent.
"And if it isn't your throne to sit in, that means there is someone else who should be ruling this place," Auron continued.
Denethor was still silent.
"And if someone else should be ruling, then you are nothing more than a temporary solution to a problem that will face this city in the future," Auron said. There was silence in the room for some time before Denethor broke it.
"What do you want, peasant? Are you a Harad-Warrior here to decieve me? Are you one of Sauron's spies?" Denethor asked, now standing.
"I know nothing of which you speak, wrongful ruler," Auron said. "I simply seek my friends, which I have told to both of your sons already," Auron said. Boromir unsheathed his sword and was ready to strike when Faramir drew his own. He parryed his brother's swing.
"No blood shall be spilled in this room," he said, fire in his eyes. Boromir slowly lowered his weapon.
"Wise choice," Auron said. He turned and looked back at Denethor. "Now will you help me find my friends or not?" he asked.
The room was silent for some time. Denethor stared at Auron, and Auron stared right back. Faramir and Boromir watched on cautiously, expecting Denethor to explode with rage. Surprisingly, he was calm when he spoke.
"You will travel to Rivendell with Boromir. I'm sure you will find more help there. Besides, Your foul feet should have never stepped foot in Minas Tirith. The sooner you leave, the better," Denethor said, returning to his seat.
"Father, I must protest," Boromir said.
"But it would do you no good, I'm afraid," Denethor cut in. "He will go with you to Rivendell."