Uncertain Fates
The weak soldier of Gondor was led to the Citadel by the two soldiers he had met at the gates; he was worried about Laddyn, and hoped that the man would make it. But he knew that he had to tell Denethor that Faramir was innocent, and the crimes he was accused of were false.
As they walked down the long hall, they came to two large double doors made of wood and carved to perfection. Five guards were standing by these doors and stopped the other soldiers immediately.
"The Steward asked not to be disturbed," one said, standing in front of all the rest. "And who is this…Haradrim?"
"Nay, Tyrmir, he is not a man of Harad; he is a soldier of Gondor—"
Marcus interrupted the soldier. "Tyrmir, you must listen to me. I must speak to the Steward alone; I bring information of great value. I promise."
Tyrmir hesitated for a moment before walking up to another soldier and whispering something into his ear.
The soldier nodded and quickly entered the large room to see the Steward.
0-0
Denethor was sitting in a large chair having a discussion with Gelidir; the Stewards advisor had been inwardly miserable for a little while now, but he tried to show the Steward respect by keeping his true feelings hidden.
The current topic was Osgiliath; Gelidir was giving Denethor advice on how many reinforcements to bring when the door creaked open.
Denethor looked into that direction, quite agitated that he had been disturbed when he clearly stated that he had wanted otherwise.
A tall and lanky soldier walked in, his posture was a tad bit lanky as he went formally on one knee.
"I said that I did not wish to be disturbed!" Denethor roared.
The soldier looked up at the Steward. "Merciful master…I mean—my lord. Th…there is a man who wishes to s…speak with you."
Denethor scowled at the young soldier's clumsiness, while Gelidir pitied him and at the same time found the situation a little comical.
Denethor was clearly annoyed by the intrusion. "Tell him to go away and come back another time," he said dryly.
"H…he said that he has information of g…great value, my lord."
Denethor frowned. "What sort of information?"
"I do not know, my lord," answered the soldier, hoping to gain some form of composure.
Gelidir looked at the Steward. "What harm is it to let the man in, my lord? We know not what tidings he brings. It will do you more ill than good if you turn him away."
Denethor sighed. "Very well; bring him in."
The soldier nodded. "Yes, my lord."
The soldier soon returned with a blond man dressed in the attire of the Haradrim.
"Who is this you have brought before me!" shrieked Denethor, standing up, and not noticing the man's hair color.
"No, my lord; I am not a Haradrim, but a lost soldier of Gondor; my name is Marcus."
Denethor sat back down, his eyes pierced Marcus like a dozen knives, making the soldier feel uncomfortable.
"I…I must speak with you, my lord—alone."
Gelidir and the soldier exchanged glances, and then turned to Denethor.
"Do as he wishes," Denethor commanded.
After bowing formally, both left without a word of protest.
"Now, what is it that you want to tell me?" Denethor asked coldly.
0-0
While Denethor was dismissing his advisor and the soldier, Boromir silently crept to the end of the secret passage. The passage led to the main hall—the Steward's current location.
Boromir never was one to eavesdrop; in fact, he remembered scolding a young Faramir for doing so. But for some reason, he had had a voice in the back of his mind, telling him to use the passage; and so heeding to the voice, he wound up in the current predicament.
As he got closer, he could hear muffled voices.
"Forgive me father," he murmured, before pressing his ear against the door to listen.
0-0
"My lord," Marcus began. "I know that we have all been under the delusion that lord Faramir is a deserter—"
"That is because it's true," Denethor interrupted.
Marcus resumed. "But as I discovered with my own two eyes…that is not quite true. He is being held captive, my lord."
0-0
When Boromir had heard Marcus's words, he froze as though he were a block of ice.
Desertion? Nothing was ever mentioned to him about desertion! He tried to control his anger so that he could listen to what 'Marcus' had to say.
He listened as Marcus told Denethor everything. It seemed to Boromir that Marcus didn't forget a word that was exchanged between himself and Faramir.
000
Faramir stumbled along as his weary legs struggled so hard to keep up with the horse's canter.
He was bound at the wrists and the rope was attached to the bridle of Hiram's horse.
Hiram either didn't seem to notice Faramir's turmoil. In fact, he urged the horse to go faster, leaving the Captain of Gondor to stumble and toil.
000
After Marcus finished, Denethor leaned back in his chair.
"A very convincing tale indeed; but as being the Steward of Gondor, I have learned not to change my decision because of one person's word."
"But my lord, you have simply taken Gelmir's word, when lord Faramir's fellow Rangers, who know him better than Gelmir continue to insist that he never did such a thing!"
Denethor leaned forward. "That is because he is the only witness; and even if your story is true, you have no way of proving to me that he had been with those elves the entire time, do you?"
"I-I…my lord—"
"That is just what I thought. You are excused out of my presence; one of my guards will escort you to the houses of healing where you will be cared for—body and mind. Guards!" he called.
Instantly the doors flung open and the guards walked in. "How may we be of service to you, my lord?" one asked, after the formal bow.
"I want one of you to escort this man to the houses of healing; he has had a very disturbing ordeal."
"Yes my lord," said one of the guards stepping forward. "I will take him."
"You cannot simply brush this aside, my lord; if you do then his blood will be upon your hands, for he may die in captivity!"
"Take him away before I decide to deal with him myself!" Denethor ordered.
Two guards took the weak soldier and escorted him out, despite his protesting.
The remaining guards stood still, waiting for a command.
"Is there anything else that we may do for you, my lord?" one asked.
"Yes," answered Denethor. "Bring me Gelidir—and some strong wine."