These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.
And thus do we of wisdom and of reach,
With windlasses and with assays of bias,
By indirections find directions out.
For a moment, Faramir's carefully maintained composure was shaken and he had to look away. How he wished he could have taken Imrahil into his confidence!
The Steward struggled to appear equally furious, though his heart was breaking. He had loved his uncle dearly for as long as he could remember. He swallowed hard then replied coldly, "Be glad that we are blood kindred, Prince Imrahil, or you would be shorter by a head ere morning!"
"You are no kindred of mine!" Imrahil retorted and swept from the Council chamber without a second glance.
Faramir nodded to the guards to permit him to leave before announcing the session was over and dismissing them all. He carefully noted which of them looked shocked and which looked gleeful at the exchange.
How he hated politics now! He had welcomed the chance to serve Gondor before and had grown to actively enjoy the ruses that he and Aragorn employed against the obstinate Council. Now, he was being dragged into a maelstrom of corruption and hated every moment of it.
It seemed too, that it was all for nothing, as he was still none the wiser about what had befallen the King. He had thrown away his honour and his reputation in a gamble that appeared to have failed.
He returned to his apartments and ordered that the bath be filled. He had taken to bathing twice daily and also after Sessions of the Council. Today, though he scrubbed himself so hard that it broke his skin in places, he felt no better. He could hear his Uncle's voice disowning him still echoing in his head.
Alone in his study, he pondered what else he could do. For the first time, he wondered if he should have asked Aragorn to instruct him to use the palantir. He knew it was safe now that Sauron was defeated, but after seeing what it had done to his father, he had shuddered at the very thought of even touching the seeing stone. Even Aragorn had only ever used it sparingly, being loath to spy on his people and had limited its use to seeing how his friends in the Shire fared.
The Steward was desperate enough now, to break his vow never to meddle with the thing. Taking a deep breath, he went to the room where it was kept and with trembling hands, removed the cover.
Hesitantly, he placed his hands on either side of the stone. To his surprise, it felt no different than any other crystal he had touched, cold to the hands and producing a slight tingling sensation.
Suddenly the tingling grew stronger and he resisted the overwhelming urge to let go and flee the room. A vortex of light and colour appeared in the opaque globe. Frantically, Faramir tried to focus his thoughts and concentrate on Aragorn's whereabouts yet however hard he tried, he could see nothing but jumbled images and colours, which made his head swim and throb.
He could have wept with misery and frustration. Again, he had sacrificed an ideal for nothing ! Maybe the stone would only respond to the King, as he was no longer Ruling Steward? On the other hand, it could be because he knew nothing of the arts of using it. His father would never have shown him, as he was not the heir and he had felt no inclination to ask Aragorn.
He felt so alone. His trusted rangers were mostly in Ithilien and he dared not risk talking to Damrod's again. No trace had been found of Anborn and his escort and he feared he had sent them to their deaths to protect him. It was not a pleasant thought.
He covered the palantir again, locked the door and returned to his study to nurse his aching head and even more painful soul. He was trying to make himself eat some lunch, for which he had no appetite, when his Secretary, Delos, knocked and asked if he might speak with him.
Sighing, Faramir bade him enter; for some instinctive reason he disliked the man, though as he was an efficient and hard worker, he could find no logical reason to dismiss him.He had never quite trusted him since he had sent Eowyn's ill fated letter to her brother,though it seemed an unreasonable suspicion as it had been sealed and it could not have known its contents.
He felt him to be obsequious in his manner, as he always seemed to imply that Faramir was somehow ill used, an attitude which had begun during Faramir's long recovery from his time in prison and had not subsequently changed but rather increased.
"I have a message from Lord Lamedon," he told Faramir, "His lordship bids you to visit his country mansion and experience his hospitality. His servant is waiting for your reply."
Faramir remained outwardly calm, though inwardly his heart leapt. Perhaps his uncle's very public denunciation of his conduct had served to make the rebels trust him? Maybe, he would at last, gain some clue as to what had really happened to Aragorn?
"His lordship is holding a house party at his country estate and will send a servant to escort you there in three days time, if you accept the invitation" Delos continued, "He says there is no need for you to trouble to take any servants with you as his lordship will provide you with whatever staff you need."
"Tell his lordship that I accept," Faramir replied with what was perhaps indecent haste.
"Very good, my lord, I will deliver the message." Delos replied, looking far more pleased than the occasion warranted.
"I am eager to become better acquainted with Lord Lamedon, as his lordship's friendship is greatly to be desired." Faramir added for good measure, suspecting more than ever that traitors to the King existed even within his own household.
As soon as his Secretary had left, he locked his study door and took out a detailed map showing the land ownership in Gondor. It showed that Lord Lamedon's Country Estate was several hours ride from Minas Tirith, and comprised a sizable manor house as well as a variety of small hunting lodges and cottages for the servants to live in.
Faramir sighed, he had thought of requesting a troop of guards to follow him at a distance and then ordering them to storm the building if he found the King, but there were just too many locations where Aragorn might be held. To further complicate matters, Lord Lamedon's retreat was surrounded by properties owned by the Lords of Lossarnach, Ringlo Vale and Lebennin. The wealth and influence of these nobles was considerable, as they held their own Fiefdoms guarded by men loyal to them, as well as these country estates and town mansions too.
There was no means by which, Faramir could have every property searched before any resistance could be orchestrated, or Aragorn killed or moved elsewhere. If only there were someone, he could turn to for aid? But there was none he could think of.
He dared not involve Imrahil as he was needed to keep safe the City, nor would he willingly endanger him. It was too far a distance to summon aid from the North where loyalty to Aragorn was strongest. Legolas and Gimli were travelling presumably inEryn Lasgalen but they could be anywhere. Then even if Eomer could be summoned in time, using foreign troops against Lords of Gondor could provoke a bloody civil war. He had long debated this point and even wondered if Eomer would suddenly arrive, if news of Aragorn's death somehow reached him. The usual messages to Rohan had been suspended at the King's command because of the fever epidemic.
He would have to go alone, and if he could find Aragorn, rescue him unaided. That plan might work if the King were able to ride, but even that seemed unlikely if the pains Faramir had been suffering truly reflected Aragorn's. Even if his lord were not being tortured, he would most likely have been injured when captured. Otherwise, the rebels would never have succeeded in overpowering so mighty a warrior.
Faramir frowned again and then his features relaxed when he remembered his days of active service in the Army. His rangers had worked by stealth, rather than brute force and endeavoured to remain invisible to the enemy, which often meant hiding out in caves.
Most of those Faramir had stayed in, were in Ithilien, but similar networks of caves were scattered throughout the country, unknown to most. As both a ranger, and son of the last Ruling Steward, he was aware of all the locations .If he recalled rightly, there was a large and well concealed cave network just outside the boundaries of the lands owned by the suspect lords, which would be well within riding distance even with a wounded man.
Ignoring his still aching head, Faramir began to make a plan. He would collect supplies of food, bedding, clothing and medicines then ride out with them in the dead of night, conceal them within the caves, and make his way back to the Citadel before daybreak .As it was winter, there were many hours of darkness to provide cover, though it was going to be difficult with so many guards and servants to get past them all without being detected.
Though the City gates were locked at night; that was no obstacle for one brought up amongst the ruling elite of Minas Tirith. He had known of secret routes since childhood and to make matters even easier, ever since the war, horses when not required, were moved to more spacious stables with a large field just outside the gates. There would be a watchman but he could be dealt with. Iavas was stabled within the city but he could find another horse to ride.
He would at the same time, turn Roheryn loose, hoping he would know to follow him and wait in the vicinity of the caves. Even if he did not, it seemed kindest to free him as he pined greatly for his master if the servants were to be believed. He had not dared visit him, in case that gave away where his true loyalties lay.
He was just compiling a mental list of what he needed, when a servant knocked on his door and announced that the Warden of the Houses of Healing was waiting to see him.
Annoyed at the interruption, Faramir nevertheless decided to see what the healer wanted, as he was as stubborn as Ioreth when it came to getting his own way. The Steward often wondered if that was a trait taught to apprentices in the Houses of Healing or just something healers acquired over the years.
"How may I help you, Master Tarostar?" Faramir asked, once the healer was shown into his study.
"I think the question is, how may I help you, Lord Faramir," Tarostar replied. "Your Uncle called at the Houses of Healing on his way home from a meeting of the Council and told me he was worried about you and asked me to attend you."
Faramir wondered what it was about healers, which made them so forward in their manner. With this particular one, he was at an especial disadvantage as he was a cousin and considered himself as one of Faramir's elders and betters.
"I am well. My uncle has no cause for concern." Faramir replied, trying to meet the keen grey eyes undimmed by age .a mark of their kinship, as only those of Numenorean lineage were still so hale at past seventy years of age, though it was rare nowadays for anyone in Gondor to live to be more than a hundred.
His history was a tragic one, as Denethor's much older sister had fallen in love with one of the Citadel Guards and eloped with him while still underage. The furious Ecthelion had disinherited her and the marriage pronounced null and void but too late to avoid tragedy. The young would be bride was already with child and had died eight months later giving birth to a healthy son.
Bereft of both parents as his father was now in prison, the baby had been named Tarostar and raised by the Warden of the Houses of Healing and had grown up to follow his trade. Despite their kinship never being officially acknowledged, he had been appointed as one of the personal Healers to Denethor and his sons and was held in high esteem.
"I think some fresh air would benefit your lordship's health." Tarostar suggested, taking Faramir's pulse, despite his efforts to pull his hand away.
"I told you, I am quite well." Faramir insisted irately.
"I think not, your pulse is racing. I believe you have an infection of the ears. A walk in the gardens will be beneficial. As your personal physician I order it!" Tarostar replied in a tone that brokered no argument, raising a finger to his lips before the Steward could question the cryptic comment.
Faramir sighed and called for a servant to fetch his cloak before allowing the elderly healer to shepherd him outside.
"I really do not have the time for this!" he protested, as they made their way under an arch of leafless trees. "And I have not appointed you or anyone else as my personal healer!"
"I know that as our beloved late King always tended you, which seems curious now, given what your uncle has told me." Tarostar said calmly as they walked along a cheerless path. In a few weeks time, the garden would burst into life again with the spring blossom, but now it was dreary and barren apart from a few holly bushes and conifers.
Faramir stiffened slightly at the comment before demanding, "Why have you brought me out here? There is nothing wrong with my ears!"
"Nor with the ears of those who might overhear us indoors!" Tarostar replied, "Your uncle came to see me and told me that he fears you have lost your wits .He says you denounce the late King at every opportunity and slander his good name!"
"I detested him, I am glad he is dead!" Faramir said wildly, hating himself for having to repeat the cruel lies yet again
"I find that very hard to believe as although the mouth can lie, the heart cannot. When you collapsed on seeing the corpse in the Houses of Healing, your grief was genuine. I feared you were going to have a heart attack, so great was your anguish. I know you loved him as much as he did you. You were as a loving father and son together! Now your Uncle tells me you claim to have feigned that affection! Either grief has driven you mad, which I doubt though you are obviously unwell, or there is more here than meets the eye!"
TBC
A/N
A very big thank you to everyone for your kind reviews, excellent suggestions and comments and also for pointing out any errors.
Denethor did have two older sisters but Tarostar is entirely the creation of my imagination.
I hope today's chapter will explain some of the comments and questions raised.
Arwen, Eowyn and the babies need to stay in hiding in case the rebels harm them. Both babies are dependent on their mothers' milk and cannot be left.