Three days after Aragorn had returned to his city did Faramir and his companions arrive. In those three days Aragorn had put out enough fires to make up a new Balrog for Glorfindel and Gandalf to fight together. He was beyond relieved when his known Steward and secret son finally arrived. He did not want to speak publicly about what had gone on in the city recently until Faramir was home, even though rumors about the men from Harad and how one of them, allegedly the prisoner, ended up dead, had spread like wildfire all over the city and likely beyond.

As it was, the rumors needed not spread out of the city to cause difficulty for the King. It was enough for certain of his counselors to hear such rumors as were being promulgated. Lord Gwaithir, who had so vehemently disagreed with his king over the decision not to seek a war with Harad, had been waiting for Aragorn to return and convene his council, and he had much to say, indeed.

The day Faramir returned Aragorn insisted that he rest, after he had explained what happened three days ago upon his return. Faramir was relieved to know that the threat of Calimehtar was no more and intended to extend his personal thanks to Erestor in some way. Faramir knew he had much to thank Erestor for and had been having trouble thinking of a way to properly express his gratitude. After all, what manner of gift could be useful to an Elf who had lived more years than Elrond?

That evening at dinner Faramir and his father reviewed some less pressing political matters before Faramir brought up the inevitable. "When do you plan to reconvene council?" Faramir asked. "Moreover, how do you plan to deal with Lord Gwaithir and what he said before we left? You should know that his father and Denethor were the dearest of friends before the former Steward stopped being so... cordial."

"Actually, i have a mind to suddenly decide to meet with them sometime after supper tomorrow," Aragorn said with a wicked grin, knowing how the counselors detested meeting late. "Tell me, Faramir, before i turned up, what did members of the King's Council do?" Aragorn said, quite curious indeed about the lofty rank.

"Nearly the same things they do now... without the councils, that is," Faramir replied cynically.

"And the appointment is hereditary, is it not?" Aragorn continued.

"Unfortunately, it is every bit as hereditary as grey eyes and black hair," the Steward said with a grin.

"Prithee... what other titles, hereditary or otherwise, are currently available to the highest bidder?" Aragorn asked.

Faramir chuckled. It was a well known fact in Minas Tirith that whenever a Lord failed to produce an heir it was common practice for the greediest men from leagues around to gather about said Lord on his very deathbed in an attempt to buy his "birthright." It caused incredible divisions and would take up inordinate amounts of time for the highest ruling official to sort out when a legitimate family member would show up in the city, only to learn that his great uncle's title had been sold to a thrifty peddler who likely never had a peddler's license in the first place.

---

The next evening Aragorn did indeed choose to summon his council after the evening repast. He opened the meeting by distributing to each of the twenty counselors a proposal for their inspection. It had originally been his intention to simply read it to them, but Erestor convinced him that it would have more effect for them to read it for themselves and since his father's chief advisor offered to have the twenty copies by that evening, Aragorn went along with it.

It did not take all that long before one counselor looked up, shock written on his features. "Your Majesty... this document decrees that you intend to dissolve hereditary titles of all councils," said Belegorn.

"Your comprehension of common tongue is indeed superlative, lord counselor," Aragorn said evenly, with a frightening smile.

"He can not," Gwaithir muttered to his older friend, "these titles have been honored since Mardil's day."

"Tell me, Lord Gwaithir," Aragorn said icily, "is there still a ruling Stewardship in Gondor?"

"What right do you have to change what has been for nearly a thousand years? My grandsires have held this position since the last time Gondor had a king!" Gwaithir argued.

Aragorn could not help but be reminded of Boromir's pompous speech in Imladris and he saw quite clearly the difference between his own son and Denethor's. He would not mention that, however, not with both Faramir and Belthil present. "Many things that once were are no more," he said calmly, trying not to allow himself to be drawn in to Gwaithir's challenge. "We live in a time of great change gentlemen. I wish to impress the fact that this decision is not entirely personal, but for the greater good and progress of Gondor. For the last thousand years," he said allowing his tone to be directed at Gwaithir momentarily, "the men who have held the title of King's Counselor have done nothing at all. Their title provided richly for them but they had done nothing to garner riches. Furthermore, the position of counselor should be appointed, not inherited. What guarantee is there that a counselor's son is as qualified as his father before him?"

"Never i have listened to such nonsense!" said Belegorn. "Next you will be proposing that the people elect their king!"

"They already have done so," Gwaithir said, "how do you suppose this man stands as he does today? Where is the proof that the people did not welcome him as King only because they felt the country needed one? The people of this city, by the end of the war, were so desperate to have someone to look up to, they would have seen an Elf crowned King of Gondor! Or perhaps it was because they learned that with Steward Denethor's death there was no longer a man of enough quality to rule?"

It was only Aragorn's steady hand on Faramir's sword arm that kept the Steward from reacting dangerously. Faramir had long since learned to deal with slights to his own name, but to sit by and listen to this braggart deprecating his father was a sore trial for Faramir. At that point both men knew that this matter was going to escalate sharply.

"I did give you my word that if you so wished, Gwaithir, we would indeed discuss this doubt of yours," Aragorn said with a calm that surprised Faramir. Then again, the younger man thought that his father's own alleged doubts likely made it easier for him to accept discussion of the point at hand.

Gwaithir, too, seemed taken a bit off guard, for he had fully expected Aragorn to fight against any discussion of the topic. "And just what proof do any of us have that you really have a legitimate claim to the Crown of Eërnur?" the bold counselor said, though much more quietly than he had spoken before.

"Perhaps the fact that you are still here," Aragorn said. "The fact that you are not now residing in Minas Tirith's dungeons, or the fact that you are residing at all, for it would take nearly no effort on my part to have you locked away, or more, for treasonous behavior."

"That sounds to me as though you would simply feel guilty to use a power that is not rightly yours," Gwaithir said confidently.

"And what water does that hold? Were i a usurper, why would i feel guilty about using the powers of the king to their fullest extent, especially to keep quiet those who might oppose me?" Aragorn said. "Rather, it might be seen that only the rightful king would not wish to abuse such powers out of reverence."

"And that you offer as your proof to us?" Gwaithir pressed, feeling as though he was losing ground.

"If you wish to be shown other proof, i may do so. Tokens of the heirs of Elendil i bear, testimony of prophecies fulfilled, but i hesitate to waste everyone's time so. Surely if you do not believe me now you never will," Aragorn said.

"And that is why you wish to appoint your council of people who drink in your every word, is it not?" Gwaithir countered. "Who would sit on such a council, though? Dupable peasants... Elves perhaps? That, gentlemen, sounds just about right for this Ranger. Do you wish to see Gondor's fate steered by Elves? Those tokens mentioned had been held by the Elves for all this time. What about the Steward's adjutant, and, gods give us mercy, his lover. Better yet, what of the alleged Prince of Mirkwood? I have heard of plans to move an entire colony of Elves to Ithilien and give them free reign! Best yet - his Majesty's own Queen. His heir shall be half-Elf. Do not think that this plot has not been in development by the Fair Folk ever since Mardil was named ruler! They sheltered the supposed heirs of Isildur and kept them from claiming the throne until the timing was right for their designs."

Aragorn's forehead was cradled by his hand, massaging his temples, as he laughed wearily. "Ai! You have found out the plot, then, Gwaithir. Yes, i am indeed the puppet-king the Elves have long foretold!" he said mockingly. "Let me guess... did Faramir's adjutant's lover seduce you? Balrog-slayers are known to talk in their sleep. Oh, but poor Erestor shall be hurt to hear this," Aragorn said to Faramir. "It could be the death of him! And all down to Lord Gwaithir's inability to resist Glorfindel's devious Elven charms."

"Just one moment!" Gwaithir cried, or rather more squeaked, in shock and humiliation. "I will not have such a rumor spread that i ever slept with a... anyone but my good wife! That is the most preposterous thing i have ever heard."

"Really? Then you have not heard a single word you yourself have said," Aragorn said flatly.

"Well, if it wasn't a scheme of the Elves that got you here, what was it?" Gwaithir said desperate to regain ground in this argument.

"Has it crossed your mind that it was fate? Or that maybe it had something to do with all that i worked for years ago with Ecthelion and Thengel of Rohan and as Chieftain of the Dúnedain?" Aragorn said, allowing just a little bitterness into his tone.

"So it was your own doing?" Gwaithir said. "Yes, you might have worked your way up, but tell me, do you think that Steward Denethor would have ever accepted the Chieftain of the Dúnedain to take the Crown of Eärnur from his keeping?"

"Denethor was a slave to his own greed who lusted after powers not rightly his," Faramir said in a dangerously low tone. "His very sanity was compromised because he used the palantír in the Tower so frequently."

"The Steward had every right to use the globe of Númenor for the protection of the realm!" Gwaithir said, wondering if he would be able to wear down Faramir any easier than Aragorn.

"Just because he was of Númenórean lineage did not give him the right to use the palantír. When one who is not strong enough attempts to control it he invariably fails and is himself vulnerable to being controlled by anyone stronger in possession of such a tool... such as Sauron," Aragorn explained wearily. "Had you spent but a little more time in the library than you did in the armory, you might have known that. But i rather think this all a digression."

"Is it?" Gwaithir sneered. "No, i would say it all comes back to the designs of the Elves. When Lord Boromir left to Imladris, never to return, i heard that it was because of a dream... and who but the Elves would have such magic as to lure Gondor's best Captain to their realm for their purpose. I have been told that Lord Boromir was killed by orc-filth as a part of this fellowship that apparently was formed by Master Elrond himself. It is all very convenient, is it not? The Steward becomes incapacitated, and his heir winds up dead, just after an extended stay in the realm of the Elf-sorceress. Naturally, Lord Denethor's second son was of much less of a mind to promote the office of Steward, aside from his affinity for Elves and Wizards, thus, no impediment. Why, one could even conclude that Aragorn and the heir's own brother might have conspired."

That was too much for Faramir to abide and even his father's influence could not have calmed him. Faramir was well beyond irate with Gwaithir when he walked over to the counselor and lifted him from his chair to stand. Faramir kept his grip on Gwaithir's collar as their glares met. "I would suggest that you hasten to give me a single reason as to why i should let you live after that comment," Faramir growled.

Unexpectedly, Gwaithir smiled. "My reason is simple, Steward," he whispered. "I do not know who you are, but i do know who you are not. You were not sired by the former Steward, and you have no claim whatsoever to your title."

Faramir longed to agree with Gwaithir, to have the truth openly known, but such was not an opinion, at least not yet. Instead Faramir schooled his reaction as well as ever. "I would that that were true," Faramir lied, sounding incredibly sincere.

"Do not toy with me," Gwaithir said unconvinced. "Who are you, or rather, who's are you? Why Denethor did not cast you into the river 36 years ago is beyond me. Ever since you have lived in your elder brother's shadow and when you learned that he was traveling back toward Gondor you could not bear it and so aided in his downfall. How else could you have brought back the Horn as your trophy, even if you did have to break it for effect?"

For a few moments Faramir was silent, before Aragorn himself took the man aside and stared straight into his eyes. "If i ever hear such accusations from you again i will not hesitate to make good on my threat to make it public knowledge that you allowed yourself to be seduced by Lord Glorfindel," Aragorn said with a feral grin.

"Why do you not threaten me with the traditional slow and painful death?" Gwaithir sneered.

"Because i am adverse to spilling blood that runs red. Think of the scandal, Gwaithir. What would your own wife say?" Aragorn whispered.

"You would be tainting that Elf's reputation in the process," Gwaithir said, clutching at straws by then.

"Glorfindel's? The Balrog-slayer of Gondolin? I scarcely think so," Aragorn laughed. "You on the other hand.... I really think it the best solution, that is if you really insist on holding on to the past and asserting that Steward Denethor was a better ruler than i. Frankly, unless you know of a way to resurrect his charred remains, it is all really a moot point by now. Gwaithir... there is so much promise to the future. I wish dearly that you would not insist on working against me and Faramir, for i do not know what i have ever done against you. I have much sympathy for you," Aragorn said honestly.

"I do not need your sympathy, and Gondor does not need your changes," Gwaithir spat, turning and leaving the council chambers.

After that Aragorn decided that there had been enough counseling for one day. He intended to summon those he had chosen as new counselors the next day, and certainly the old council had gone out with quite a bang, and it hadn't even been necessary to ask Gandalf to supply the fireworks. Ordinarily Aragorn and Faramir would have gone directly to sleep after such a trial, but this night both opted for a glass or two of Dorwinion first. Belthil joined them, though he abstained from the Dorwinion on his uncle's advice. Faramir had not forgotten the agonizing day after the first time he had tried the stuff, but even considering the consequences, all three men were in need of a drink.

---

I can not say for sure... but Gwaithir may end up becoming real trouble.

linda: Poor Aragorn indeed. More to come, of course. Chero isn't mine unless i am around and have a handful of clover, really. But, the big brat knows how to make a friend for life. He even coaxed me out of my apple, the big mud-caked lummox.

Elenhin: I would agree, better to be named for someone who survives. The vast majority of Middle-earth is named for dead people, but, of course, Hobbits see things from a different angle, as ever. You have given me so many plot bunnies :)

Iblis: Review when you can, i know how it is. Just glad i have a another reader. I really do recommend Ripples, it is only a slash fic technically. It is really more about Erestor's reluctance to love Glorfindel.

flowerbee: Who me, evil? Nah.... It's a good thing you agree that Aragorn is a true king.

I only wonder what manner of trouble this Gwaithir might be able to stir up.... There are certain skeletons in the closests of the Citadel that, if this character ever stumbles upon... well, i will say no more.