Imrahil: Chapter 5 – With Disdain

The party of men, and hobbit, entered the large main hall of Minas Tirith. Imrahil thought to himself about the kings of the past that dined here, his wife who spent many days and nights entertaining guests in the hall. He thought that the hall was now lying in shadow. The walls seemed dark and the air cold, "where has the warmth of the hall gone?" Imrahil questioned in his mind. At this point he noticed that his entire party was silent. None of them have said a word since before the door opened. He realized that the mood of all was grim, he had little to wait to find out why.

Denethor II, the ruling steward of Gondor, sat on the throne of kings. The eyes of the steward looked as if they have not slept in some time, his gaze was such that he felt a chill go down his back. "So my brother, 'The Fair Prince' of Dol Amroth has arrived at the city. What news does he bring." Faramir, not waiting for the prince to respond, replied: "father, Imrahil has brought a thousand men including the famed nights of his city." Denthor looked at his son sternly and said words as cold as frostbite, "I was talking to Imrahil, he brings little, but he has brought back more than you." Faramir stood back holding in his anger. Imrahil was chilled by these words. He had known Denethor to be a stern father, but he has never heard him talk to his son in such coldness. "Denethor, I bring what I could, my lads never skulked from coming," Imrahil pronounced proudly. "My dear man," Denthor said while rising from the throne, "Few of the other town have sent even a single lad to help defend this place, we have no hope to win sitting behind these walls."

Imrahil's head sunk. The hopelessness that came from the steward shook him to his core. Gandalf explained that the enemy was known to be advancing and that all haste should be made to prepare for the attack. Imrahil debated that his men could hold the enemy off outside the city until help arrived. Faramir proclaimed that we would lead his rangers anywhere his father ordered. Denethor advised that he thought that the main advance of the Lord of the Nazgul's army would come through Osgiliath, the same town that Faramir had tried to defend previously. He ordered Faramir to send some rangers to the city and that they should hold it from the enemy. Faramir resisted, as Imrahil thought proper, but he conceded to the will of his father. The men were leaving the hall when Denethor added as an after thought, "It is good to know you are hear Imrahil." Imrahil paused, unable to respond, just nodded.

Faramir left to send out the orders to send his men back to Osgiliath. He could not be too pleased. Imrahil stood with Gandalf overlooking the Pelennor and they discussed the situation a while. Imrahil talked about the better times and about how the tower reminded him of home. "The great thing about home is that it is never further than your heart," the wizard said while stroking his beard nervously.

"You seem unnerved Gandalf, I thought your kind were always calm." Imrahil said in an almost joking manner.

"The man is mad." Gandalf said with disdain. He continued, "He will get his men all killed, he does not think victory possible."

"Victory is always possible, I just wish more help would arrive." Imrahil said.

"Aragorn is going to attempt to come, he fears the weakness that is in all men. But, his duty binds him to come here now." The wizard advised. "But, the road is dangerous."

"Aragorn? Isildur's heir? Is coming back?" Imrahil said with shock. The thought of the king returning lifted his heart.

"Yes, Aragorn will try to come; as will Theoden, King of Rohan." Gandalf continued, "I hope they do not come too late or I hope they manage to come at all."

It was getting dark and Imrahil decided to repair to rest. As he went to sleep he feared for his nephew, the weight on his heart and mind was more than he let on. The prince thought about how the king would come. He hoped that Aragorn would talk some sense into Denethor, but he knew his brother would resist the heir. It appeared that the men of the west were divided amongst themselves when only unity could save them. The clouds were thickening around his heart just as they were thickening overhead. What could he do to save his country and his family? The noble man fell into the world of dreams, tomorrow would be an even more trying day.