A/N: This chapter is a bit different. Thanks to Elisabeth for the suggestion!
Chapter Seven: Night, Labyrinth, and a Dawnless Sunrise
The sun had set some time ago, and the rather inadequate seeming room which Denethor has claimed as his study was dark, save for a small corner of the room which was illuminated by the soft glow of a solitary candle. In the flickering shadows the steward sat, outwardly catatonic, the pale orange flames dancing across his contemplative countenance.
Darkness provides an ideal breeding ground for brooding thoughts, and these were exactly the thoughts which swirled arbitrarily in the Lord of Gondor's head.
'Dinner...the delegation...wine, high spirits...his son's empty chair...'
Denethor continued to stare without seeing at the candle.
'Wine, yes, I drank...Where was Faramir? Where was that accursed boy?
'Accursed?
'Yes, yes accursed is what he is! An ill stroke of fortune upon my house. The demise of my beloved.
'Surely this cannot be true?
'Of course it is true! If it were not for his birth my beautiful Finduilas would still be alive.
'Though she did not conceive this child alone...
'Nay perhaps she...no, I mustn't think such slanderous thoughts, it is not befitting of me nor her memory.
'You struck your own child.
'Aye, and with good reason I say! The insolent brat refused to attend an important social function after being explicitly requested to be present!
'And that is reason enough to strike him? He is but eight.
'He should have been responsible.
'You speak of responsibility, but you have still to conjure a reason for this madness.
'I have said, he killed my wife! Killed her!
'So you believe, or wish to believe, though you know well the falsehood in the statement. There can be no blame in her death.
'What do you know?! There can and there is!
'Is there? Nay, there is none. All would be guiltless in the matter. There are those who would lay the blame on a child and carry out their anger upon their own flesh and blood. Is that what you want?
'Nay! Who would desire to do such a thing?'
A deafening silence filled the gloomy shadows. It seemed that every living creature had ceased its nightly routine. No cricket chirped. No voice laughed merrily from below in the once happy city. Not even the wind whispered.
'I have struck a child.
'That you have.
'I am no father. How my son must hate me so!
'Nay, perhaps not yet.
'Oh, what have I done?'
Suddenly, the steward blinked, his eyes focusing in the dim light. Slowly, he rose and strode to the window. Gazing out the window, he beheld the stars twinkling cheerfully in the sky. They seemed to mock his inner turmoil, not sparing a care for the indecipherable thoughts of man. Denethor massaged his temples wearily. He repeated softly, "What have I done?"
A/N: Sorry, I completely tore up and repaved my plot. There were some things which seemed to me to be unreasonably improbable which I modified.
Lord Elrond of Hogwarts: Thanks, I'm glad you like it. I wish I could curse fluently in Dwarvish – it would be really handy!
AnathTheGoddess: well, it might be easier on me if you did...
InsomniacBoarder: I'm glad you like it!
Jenn: Thank you. You flatter me!
Anastasia Who: I'm glad you're (or were, lol) enjoying it!
Susan: I'm glad you still like it!
Mythwen: Thanks. You probably just forgot you reviewed due to my lazy, writer's-blocked self!
Cygna-hime: Glad I don't look like Maedhros – could cause severe confusion with the dark lords. "Suitably contrite" I should hope so!
Jennifer: Thanks, I'm glad you liked it!
