A/N: One more chapter!! WOO-HOO!! This time we get to take a look at what's happening behind the big picture... may not be look too interesting, but it will lead to interesting things, I assure you, eheh! I'm thinking of making some changes to the previous chapters, clear up some things... don't know if they'll be MAJOR changes or not (even though I will try to keep them minimal) but once it's done I'll say. So far, the only thing that's been rewritten is the first chapter (just some touches, you don't have to reread it if you don't want to). That's all, I guess... pardon for my bad english, haven't practiced it in a while now... ;p

Mysterious Jedi: WOW!!! Really think so? Thanks, very flattered!! Hope you continue to enjoy!

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Chapter VI: At The Backstage

After sending one of his trusted soldiers on his way to taking care of remedying as much as possible the abrupt ending that had been put to the crowning ceremony, Faramir retreated to his personal chambers. Eldarion wouldn't be needing him for now and he had a crazy idea forming in his head. One his heart desperately hoped was wrong.

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Outside the city's seventh wall, something quite similar took place. Herion, the counsellor, was about to start pulling out his cards to play them in parallel to Faramir. He disliked the oposition the other was putting up and decided that he would need to gain the majority of the table of counsellors, if he was to override the influence the captain had over the King. His list of possible means to achieving it wasn't at all short, and already was a plan forming in his mind.

He walked through the market, watching from afar how one of his well-familiar colleages had stopped for some purchases. He was quickly by his side, talking in hushed tones.

"Hîmac..." The other looked back, almost startled. Whatever it was that what was going through Herion's mind right now, he thought he didn't like it from the look on his eyes. He imagined he knew enough of how persuading the fat counsellor could be, to be able to evade it, and was determined to refuse to take part of his plots.

"Before you say anything, Herion, let me tell you this. I will not partake on whatever tricks you're trying to pull on me or anyone this time!" He immediately defended himself.

"Who said anything about tricks?" Judging by Hîmac's stance, Herion quickly realised this part of the play was useless. Perhaps he had done this too many times for the other to start learning how to counter it? The fat counsellor skipped the offended look and went straight ahead. No matter how ethically correct Hîmac bragged himself of being, Herion knew his mind was weakly built, too easily swayed once one spoke the right words.

"Very well, but at least give me a chance and hear me out..." The other would certainly want to hear every thing everyone had to say on the matter and that would be his downfall. He was the kind of man that believed that through greater knowledge came greater justice. The fool. As Hîmac nodded, Herion recognised he'd succeeded and began to talk.

Some time later, he was leaving Hîmac by his home door and moved towards his next target: the Embassy of Anfalas. Earning the trust of a foreigner, someone who lived outside of Minas Tirith, would be a good psychological factor for others to join up with him. And his political mind shouted at his ears that he needed as many elements of that table on his side as possible.

He had the ethically correct man on his hand – a few would consequently follow him for that – and pretty soon, he'd have the foreigner too.

"Lord Herion, right? Forgive me for not remembering your name correctly, it's something I've always been terrible at... What brings you here?" The Ambassador excused himself as they shook hands in greeting.

"Yes... Herion." He took the seat the other was silently offering him from across the desk. "I know the palace meeting has long finished, but there's an ill feeling that lingers in my mind and refuses to leave. I couldn't wait until the next time and decided to come speak to someone about it. I hope you don't mind."

Finishing graciously, he almost didn't need to wait for the other's reply to know the exact words he would say. Herion had a lot of experience, he'd always had a special ability for knowing how to read other people's faces and with time had also come to sharpen the fine art of saying the right things at the right timing to convince them of something. Needless to say, he did his job formidably well. He'd lived comfortably through the time of the Stewards, he'd live through the Age of Kings just the same.

"Why, certainly, it's no bother at all! Let's hear it. Is it about the elves?" For once, Herion found he had slightly misjudged someone... Why would the other have a special interest in the elves?... then again, maybe he wasn't wrong at all.

"As a matter of fact... yes, in a way. Follow my line of though: first, we have an attack on Anórien, in which our King tragically dies. Then, strikes on the North on the land of the Hobbits and the elven harbours. And third, let's not forget that Gondor is just recoverying from playing set to the War of the Ring, which is very fresh in the memories of many!"

The Ambassador was well aware of all the things the other had said, and eyed him almost suspiciously. "That is no news you bring me, where are you trying to get to? The point is...?"

"The point is, I fear our King may be being pushed into entering a war that has nothing to do with us." The Ambassador had been listening intently until then, but after this, he relaxed back into his chair with a strange face.

"What do you mean, «nothing to do with us»? As you said, king Elessar fell to an ambush, and there's nothing to indicate that those orcs haven't got anything to do with the events up North!"

"But nothing proves it, either..." He hastily put in. "The Great War is still recent, there are many dark contingents scattered through the land, they might not even know that their master is already gone."

"You speak true, there are. But isn't it Gondor's duty to assure the lands are safe and clear of those foes?" The fat counsellor shifted in his seat, he hated when others put up a fight. He replied more brusquely this time.

"Gondor's duty is to watch over itself and those who inhabit in it! Not of sheding blood over matters that do not concern it."

"But they do! They concern us all!"

"Oh, cut it. Don't tell me you really believe in those fairy-tales?" He had had enough of talking to idealists with Hîmac for one day. And there was nothing that annoyed him more than an idealist.

"Yes, I do. And besides, even admitting that Anórien has nothing to do with the Shire and that this doesn't directly affect Gondor in any way, even in that case, it falls upon us to help the needed."

"To help the... is your memory short or what?!" Making good use of the best disbelieving tone he had, Herion leaned in closer, in order for his weight to help him firmly state his point. He wished he didn't have to face so many weak-minded idealists, but at the same time was thankful for it. It only made his task easier. He continued venomenously. "Or have you forgotten already how Gondor stood alone at the doors of the Unnamed Evil itself? Who was there for us then? Which noble people came to help us?!"

"Every people had something to worry about then. Evil was everywhere, we weren't the only ones to suffer..."

"Is that so?... What about the elves, the very same that rest now within our walls? I don't remember ever seeing an elf fighting along our side, from the Grey Havens or any other of those places where they continuously hide from the world! Why should we expose ourselves for them now?"

"Because-"

"That's exactly what was troubling me, that kind of reaction," he interrupted at once. He didn't want to give the Ambassador too much time to process everything he was saying. "The sense of being at war is so fresh in everyone's minds, that it seems people have forgotten what it means, what it's like, to be at peace. And considering his influence over the King, lord Faramir would be the most perilous of them. He wouldn't hesitate to drive this country back into war... unless someone stops it."

"I don't think lord Faramir would be that irrational-"

"Think again, my lord. Didn't you see how he guided the King earlier at the meeting? Lord Eldarion said or did nothing before consulting with him first, you surely must have seen it!"

"Yes, I did. But that was an exceptional circumstance, it was a very uncomfortable position for-"

"And remember, lord Faramir lost both brother and father to war, and his name was very nearly added to the list of casualties. Trust me, those memories are bound to be fresh enough on his mind. He will wage war."

The Ambassador stared aprehensively at the man's flushed face before him. He didn't agree much with Herion's point of view, but what if he was right and somehow they would be compelled to enter into a needless war?

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Likewise, Faramir was also coming to his own conclusions, as confusing as they may be. When he'd started looking at the maps earlier that afternoon, he'd thought there were "a few" holes in his conjecture. Well, it was making less and less sense the more he pondered about it.

The ambush on Anórien. It was clearly an ambush, the orcs were expecting the company, but Gondorian soldiers were well trained and their approach would never have been noticed. Then how?

They could have been warned, but once again, Gondorian troops just weren't any kind of troops or men. If they'd been watched, they would have realised it. And the only alternative left he could see... was a traitor among the party.

Not possible.

But that wasn't all... if there had been a traitor, why would the orcs go through so much trouble – yes, indeed it had to have been trouble, organisation and orc were two concepts that just didn't match – just to slay some soldiers. They had to know that the King would be riding along. But there was only the slimmest of chances of that happening, and the only people who knew, apart the soldiers, were... the counsellors.

It didn't make sense.

And could it be that Anórien was somehow related to the Shire? Could it be that the eastern force that had razed Bree were in fact these southern orcs? The timings didn't fit. According to his calculations, these attacks had to have happened in fact before the one in Anórien. Unless somehow, the hobbits had developped wings or something.

Nothing fit together. But he kept on studying the maps he'd brought from the library, hoping to find something, anything, that could guide him.

As for his crazy idea, nothing indicated it could ever be true. He'd have to somewhat force the pieces if he were to complete the puzzle that way... perhaps it was time he had another conversation with the elves. This time, without anyone else to disturb it.


TBC...