Chapter 8: Waiting
As the shadow from the east continued to darken the sky around Minas Tirith, the fair prince continued to talk to his men and make sure that they were ready for the all out assault they would be facing in the next couple of days. His thoughts kept falling back to his nephew's bloody body and his brother-in-law's misplaced anger and sadness. The city seemed to be in a state of mourning. He was happy to see that the spirit of the men was holding firm.
Over the course of the morning, he could get no word on Faramir's health. Denethor was not answering any dispatches sent to him and he had not been seen outside of the tower since the previous day. He would see Gandalf regularly, but the wizard was always busy on business. Imrahil was not new to warfare, Though fighting from behind a wall was not to his liking. He would rather be out of the city using his large horses to fight the foe on his own terms. But, he had too few men and it would be perilous to open the gate in the face of the enemy.
Imrahil was now always armed. Gandalf and he had decided to make sure all men would be armed properly until the matter was decided. The pain of waiting for the enemy to attack was weighing heavily on him. The air was foul smelling with the stench of the orcs and their unkempt camp outside. They could hear the orcs, Haradrim and Easterlings singing their battle songs. Drums were beating and the shriek of he Nazgul could also be heard. Inside the city all seemed quite. It was almost as if the citizens had resigned themselves to their fate. The site of Faramir had caused them to despair. "My dear nephew, I should have been with you. Our people need you now." The royal man thought to himself.
"I am afraid you will have little time to grieve, fair prince." A fatherly voice said.
Imrahil looked up and saw the White Wizard looking at him warmly.
"Faramir lives, I do not believe his wounds to be mortal. Pippin fears the upcoming battle, but he is willing to fight for his friends." Gandalf explained calmly.
"The people need him now." Imrahil said with desperation.
"The people will need him in the future. If it was not for you, he may have been slain." Gandalf said, "we are lucky to have you here."
Imrahil could not fight off the smile. Gandalf's countenance was brave and this lifted the prince's spirit. "Faramir is a fighter, I know he will not forgive himself for missing this battle." Imrahil thought for a second, "I guess it is his fighting spirit that would not allow himself to fall to the enemy's weapons."
"Catapults!" screamed a watchman. Imrahil and Gandalf raised up and great whirling sound could be heard. Screams and shouts of the men followed the noise of the projectiles. They could hear the giant missiles hitting the walls of the city. The Wizard and the Prince quickly broke up their meeting. The Prince ordered his men up and placed them close to the wall as if to avoid the rocks that were being hurled into the city. "Keep calm men," Imrahil pleaded. "Before it is over you will all get your chance to strike a blow for the west." The prince said with a sound of encouragement.
The prince knew that the waiting was finally over. He just hoped he would see his children, and Faramir, alive again.