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Chapter Six: Farewell to the Sea

And so the days and nights passed, and with each cycle of the sun and moon, Denethor became increasingly accustomed to life in Dol Amroth. He greatly regretted it when it came time for him to return to Minas Tirith, for the White City was so distant, so far from his thoughts and dreams.

"I have never seen such an ethereal night," Denethor remarked, glass in hand, gazing out at the statues adorning the courtyard. Beyond them he could see the sea, its waves continuously pounding the shoreline in a display of its might and power. He would miss its roar. There was something about the repetitiveness of that sound, that continuous harmony that calmed him, and made him forget his troubles. The moon was a bright circle, for it was a cloudless night, and the stars shone upon them like the Valar's blessings.

Adrahil smiled. "The sea is an enchantress," he said. He took another sip of wine and straightened his tunic. "I hope your visit has been to your satisfaction." He cleared his throat. "I know I speak for all of us when I say it has been a great honour to have had you stay."

Denethor could not help but notice Imrahil shoot his father a glance, but took no heed of its meaning.

"It is more than I could have ever have hoped to find," he said, sighing, resting his arm against the balcony.

"I wish you a good journey home, my lord," said Imrahil, bowing his head. Denethor nodded in thanks.

"If the weather remains this clear, we should have few problems," he said optimistically. His eyes turned to the stars. "We should arrive at Minas Tirith before long."

There was a moment of silence then. Denethor took a cautious sip of wine and looked back out to the courtyard. His eyes fixed on a statue of a woman, pouring a jug of water into a large, stone basin. The stream of water trickled out endlessly, glimmering and glittering in the light of the moon.

The voice startled him.

"My lord," said Finduilas, "will this be your only visit?" Denethor turned to face her, a curious smile on his face. She sat on a bench surrounded by ivy, her head to the ground. Why does she ask me this?

"I do not know as of yet, my lady," he answered courteously. "It would please me greatly to return." Her head remained lowered.

"As it would please us!" Adrahil exclaimed, raising his glass. "You are always welcome here, my lord."

It was then that Finduilas spoke.

"Please, excuse me," she said meekly. Adrahil approached her, but she brushed past him, lightly stepped across the balcony, and was gone. Denethor could only watch as she disappeared from his sight.

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Come…come now…read…concentrate…but that's just it…you can't concentrate…you have turned page after page, but you read not the words. It is as though you see right through them. She placed her hand to her brow in frustration. Why am I so? My mind is a flurry and cannot rest…

Finduilas placed her book down, the book she had been trying to read for the past hour. The task had yet escaped her. Night had fallen long ago, and a deep star-spangled sky was displayed in the heavens above. Finduilas cast her gaze up to them. The stars seem at such peace…they are so quiet…a void to sadness, to what goes on in the world below. Why can't I be amongst the stars? She looked back down to the long velvet cushion, and fingered the soft fabric. She smiled faintly to herself. Do not be so silly, Finduilas. What a silly wish…you need not refuge. It is your own soul you need to see to. She thought a moment, looking upward to the painting above her fireplace. A kind man stood over a beautiful young woman, smiling lovingly to her. The woman's gaze was cast to the child she held in her arms, an infant, not a year old. Finduilas smiled. Perhaps I should speak with father…though perhaps not….oh, I know not what to do! Frustrated, she buried her head in her hands, and finally, she spoke aloud to herself.

"Enough of this foolishness," she spoke through gritted teeth. "You must keep control of your senses, else you will go mad. It is nothing…you worry too much. Is there anything that upsets you? No, there is nothing…" She paused, and pounded her clenched fist to her forehead, answering her own statement, "Save for this constant spinning in my head…" Finduilas looked up to her bed, and upon seeing it her eyes felt as though they would close any moment. Sleep…that is all that I need…sleep…

Rising wearily from her window seat, she made her way to her wardrobe, and began to undo the laces on the back of her dress. She thought she heard footsteps coming down the corridor, but supposed them to be that of a soldier and paid them no heed.

But they were not.

Finduilas jumped, startled, and placed her hand to her chest. Someone had knocked upon her door. She hastily laced up the back of her dress as well as she was able, and making her way to the door, she carefully opened it.

"Lord Denethor!"

It was indeed him. He bowed his head to her courteously, and offered her a gentle smile.

"My lady, I know 'tis late, but might I have a word with you?"

Why would he wish to speak with me? "Of course, my lord, do come in."

He nodded to her and walked into the room, and when she had closed the door, he turned to look at her and faintly smiled. He looked so solemn! What could be bringing him to her at this hour? He stood staring down to the rich carpet that lay before the fire, his hands folded behind his back.

He began to gently pat his hands together in thought.

Why does he do so? It rattles my nerves….I wish he would stop.

He cast his gaze upward to her. He examined her face for some time, and though she wished to look away, she found she could not. His presence held her captive.

Looking down to the two armchairs that lay in front of the fire, he motioned to them.

"Shall we sit?"

Finduilas forced a smile, and slowly walked over to where he stood, and coming to him, he again extended his hand, directing her to be seated before him.

Why do I feel as though I shall hear a death sentence?

She placed her hands down beside her, clutching the seat.

Her actions did not go unnoticed. "My lady, please be at ease…" she looked up to Denethor's face, and he continued on, "I have come only for my own interests."

Finduilas smiled, relieved. She placed her hand to her chest, and sighed, "My lord, I thought I had offended you unknowingly."

"You are not the one in offense, lady Finduilas."

What? Did my ears deceive me? "My lord?"

"My lady, tomorrow I depart for the White City." He looked up into her eyes. "But I cannot go until my soul has peace."

"Peace, my lord? Of what do you speak?"

"My lady," he spoke tentatively, "have I offended you?"

She did not know how to answer.

"My lord, forgive me, but I know not of what you speak."

Denethor swallowed, looking aside in embarrassment. Now I must tell her…

"My lady…you have given me reason to believe I have offended you. Oft have been occasions where you have fled the room when I entered, left a meal early…" Fool! Look at her! You make her blush! Finduilas bowed her head, and looked as though she might begin to weep. "My lady, please…" He reached out his hand, placing it atop hers. "Please, I do not intend to upset you…it is I who has offended…" He smiled reassuringly to her. "All I wanted was to rectify my wrong-doing before leaving tomorrow…and here I am now, asking to know what I did to offend you so." She looked into his eyes and he smiled again to her, "I want to make it right."

All she could do was stare at him. She spoke no words for quite some time.

Denethor took her hands in his. "My lady…you and I are friends, are we not?"

Friends? He calls me his friend? "Yes, my lord."

"Then do speak truthfully with me. I do not want to leave and this not be mended. I cannot have the offense of my gentle hostess on my heart."

"But, my lord…you have not offended me…"

His look was one of genuine surprise. "My lady, are you certain?"

"Yes, my lord…you carry no offense." She lowered her head. "It is I who should apologize for my behaviour. I do hope I didn't–"

"Now hush, my lady." She looked to his face, and he smiled warmly to her. "I was not offended in the slightest, only worried I had blackened my reputation in your eyes. I cannot have that…our cities must be on good terms. Your father is a kind man, but I fear his wrath if I offend his daughter!"

This brought a smile to her face, one which she tried to hide. Denethor laughed softly, and gently squeezed her hands. "It is obvious that he loves you very much."

She smiled. "He does."

Denethor smiled to her and released his loose grip. He slowly rose, and as he did, Finduilas watched him. My mind is calm,she thought in utter amazement. Why is it calm now?

She finally cast her gaze upward to him, though his back was turned. He gazed at something on the wall. Just then, he turned to her.

"My lady?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Is this not your father?"

Finduilas rose curiously, and coming to stand beside him, he directed her gaze to the painting which hung over the hearth.

She smiled to him, "Yes, my lord. It is."

Denethor leaned forward, looking at it more closely. "How alike to your brother he looks!"

"Yes, he resembles him a great deal as he was in his youth."

He slowly turned his head to her, and made a motion with his hand, "And this lovely woman?"

Denethor could sense the sorrow in her face upon hearing the question. "My mother," she softly replied.

Turning to look to her, Denethor smiled faintly. "You resemble her, my lady."

"Thank you," she whispered.

Finduilas looked down to his feet, trying desperately to stem the tears that rose in her eyes. She blinked them away, and wiped them with her hand. She quickly raised her head when she heard Denethor's gentle laugh.

She was met by his merry smile, and she smiled herself.

"I can guess who this child is," he said knowingly, turning from the picture.

"Yes, my lord…that is I."

"What life in those eyes!" he exclaimed, examining her image on the canvas. Turning to her, he met her eyes, and he smiled faintly, "It is still there."

Why does he speak to me so? Finduilas knew not what to make of his compliments. She almost wished he would not do so, for it perplexed her.

As it was often, all she could bring herself to do was smile.

"Well," Denethor whispered quietly, "I shall leave you in peace." He stole a hasty glance of her face as he made his way to the door. Finduilas quickly followed him, and opened it before him, and smiled. He nodded to her. "I thank you again, my lady, for allowing me to speak with you. You have lifted a great burden from my soul."

"Oh, my lord, think naught of it. I am sorry that you worried so."

He smiled, "Good night, my lady Finduilas."

"Good night to you, Lord Denethor."