Walking up the stairs, he thinks back to why he is even making his way up. He wanted to keep an eye on Faramir during his assignment. And the Palantíri in the room he is moving to just gives him a way of doing so. In fact, it is the best way as he determined earlier today. He feels his nerves rising in anticipation. He cannot wait to see how Faramir is doing with his assignment.
Reaching the top of the stairs, a door appears in front of it. He places a hand on the handle and hesitates. Shaking his head, Denethor opens the door. Inside the room, he can see the Palantíri standing. Her nerves spike for a moment before he takes a deep breath and steps inside the room.
He approaches the Palantíri. He knows he needs to watch what is going on. Still, he feels afraid of what he might see. Not that he would ever let anyone notice his fear. It is beneath him to show weakness to anyone. They can only see him as a stern leader and not someone whose afraid.
Stepping up to the Palantíri, he hovers his hands above it. Shall he do it? Shall he look? He can still walk away. There is still time. Shaking his head, he places his hands on the palantíri. He made up his mind earlier. It is of no use for him to now doubt his earlier decision. He sees himself moving over the land at a fast pace.
He halts his thoughts and looks around. To his right, he can see the brightness of Mordor. He quickly moves away and turns around. Mordor does not hold any importance to him right now. No, Faramir does. Just like his troops. As such he turns around. It has him looking at Minas Tirith. He can see some preparations being made in the distance. But what he cannot see it to small or hidden. Still, he smiles pleased with the results. Minas Tirith will be ready for the siege. Faramir has achieved his major objective already. All which is now needed is to stall for as much time as possible.
He shakes his head, he should look for Faramir and see how he is doing. He turns around once more and looks over the fields carefully. He cannot see anyone on it at the moment. Well, he can see people but those are deceased. Besides this, he can see hoofprints on the ground. From there, he can observe the direction the riders rode. He follows the tracks. During this, it becomes clear to him that Faramir has already left the fields. Faramir is long gone from the Rammas Echor.
With this knowledge, he moves his mind towards the Anduin. This is where he suspects Faramir to be. Reaching the Anduin, he looks around. He can see his forces moving on the banks of the river. He smiles pleased. So Faramir has recovered the ground they have previously lost. But then he frowns. This is quick. Have they been lured into a trap?
He looks carefully at the men to see how they are doing. The men are sitting together making the most of the moment of peace. But speaking of peace, how long do they have left? Faramir appears behind the men looking at his other side of the river. Or at least, that is the direction Faramir looks at. He follows Faramir's line of sight. He frowns for he cannot understand Faramir's worry at this time. Nothing worrying is happening. All this makes him understand where the men's peace comes from. No orcs or other foul creatures can be seen. Everything is quiet.
But then, he considers what he saw and knows about Mordor. Mordor would not retreat without good reason. So, have they left for another location? Maybe but time will tell. Still, Faramir's actions make sense to him now. Faramir was checking to see where the orcs when towards. He turns his attention back to Faramir and sees Faramir looking worriedly. What did Faramir see?
Suddenly, Faramir calls out something. The men grasp their ears. Was it a piercing scream? That would explain the men's reaction. He shudders at the thought. He knows what it will mean if it is true. He quickly looks at the sky. His eyes widen at what he sees. He was right in his suspicion.
In the distance, and not far away, the Witch-king of Angmar appears on a flying beast. Others will most likely follow. Dread starts to fill him. Has Faramir's victory been for naught? He shakes his head. He should not dwell on it. Faramir's actions are what require his attention. Only this way, he can tell how his son is doing with this unexpected challenge. Or more likely this unexpected nightmare.
What are the men doing? He looks around and smiles at what he sees. The men are picking themselves and their weapons up. Those in front are forming lines and preparing for the upcoming assault. It is good they did for a moment later orcs descent on them and all hell breaks loose. Denethor tries to keep an eye on Faramir but loses him within seconds.
He moves his mind higher into the sky. Hopefully by having a full picture of the battle going on it will allow him to find his son again. He will not know what to do should Faramir perish now. He has nothing left then. He looks around the battlefield. In the back men are jumping on their horses or running away. Cowards! How could they abandon their post? They should stay and aid in the battle. Not running away.
A movement to his side draws his attention. He releases a breath he did not know he held. Faramir is fighting and moving around the battlefield. Wherever Faramir goes men hurry away as soon as they can. Some are killed while fleeing but others kill the orcs before also fleeing. Moving with the men, he notices how their retreat is complicated. All those near the back of the retreat have to fight off pursuers. But where are they going? And will they reach the target of their retreat in time?
As he moves, he sees where they are heading. The Causeway ports appear in the distance. The first of the retreaters reach the Causeway ports which creates another amount of chaos. It does not take long for Faramir to reach the ports with the surviving men. From the men falling, he can tell Faramir loses men he will desperately need in the coming time. The orcs halt in their approach once the men are all pushed back. They immediately begin to form lines.
He looks at the men on the Causeway ports. They are also forming lines. Archers are hurrying to the top while riders and infantry prepare themselves for the upcoming attack. He looks at the number of men available and the number of orcs. He does not like what he sees. The Causeway ports cannot be held for a long time with this small number in comparison to the overwhelming number of orcs. It will only be a matter of time before they also need to be abandoned.
He sighs. He would have liked to have more time to prepare the city. That besides the fact that the city will be ready at the time when the Causeway ports will be abandoned. Looking at the men, he sees something strange. Slowly the numbers become less. Is there already fighting? He cannot see anything about it. The men are all still prepared for the coming attack. So where are the men disappearing towards?
Looking around, he sees what Faramir is doing. Faramir taps some men on the shoulder and speaks with them for a moment. Seconds later, these men are returning to the city. Why is Faramir sending men away now? What purpose does it serve? It does not make sense. He knows Faramir better than to believe Faramir acts without considering the situation. So what reason could it have?
Just as he thinks this, another surge occurs. The chaos which existed near the river appears at the Causeway ports. This time, more orcs attack. The attackers show more aggression. Archers fire arrows relentlessly and the infantry digs themselves in while fending off the orcs to the best of their abilities.
Denethor looks over the field with sadness growing. The archers do their best in cutting the numbers of orcs. But it will not be enough. For now, they can hold the orcs off. But for how long? The numbers are simply not in their favor. He looks for Faramir and sees him hurrying towards the ground. Faramir calls to the men. Men leave their position while others buy them time. Another retreat is starting. He knows what this means. The doom of Gondor is near.
What should he do? He lets the Palantíri abruptly loose. He looks out of the window. The sky is getting darker with each passing second. He looks towards the ground. What is there left to do but accept the coming doom? How will they ever be able to fight off all those numbers? They cannot do so. But what shall he do?
He turns around and leaves the room. He does not have the will left to watch the approach of the orcs on their city. He already knows what is coming. He also knows Faramir and his men will not make it. He is certain of it. Tears prick in the corner of his eyes. He swallows and forces them away. There is no use dwelling on these matters. What he needs to know is what he will do. Shall he give the order to flee now or shall he do it at a later time? Maybe a good idea to give the order at a later time. It will allow Mordor less time to discover the escapees. As such, these people can find a way to safety. He laughs shallowly as he descends the stairs. Safety? Right. They are still going to die. Only by fleeing, they have some time longer to live. So what is the purpose behind giving the order later?
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he opens the door and walks on. Where to he has no idea. He simply walks on. As he walks, he is repeatedly ambushed by runners. Each of the runners is asking for orders. He ignores them all. Even those who ask to send Faramir aid. Why would he? He will only send the men to a death which would serve better were it to happen by defending the lower levels. And not by risking their lives to safe doomed men.
As he enters the citadel, he is immediately ambushed by two runners asking the same question. They request permission for Imrahil to ride out in aid of Faramir. He frowns. Was his earlier ignorance not a sufficient answer? Why do they even want to fight? What do they think to achieve with it? Soon they will face Mordor either way. So why do they want to meet them on the field so desperately? He shakes his head in confusion. He does not understand them.
His shaking has the runners renewing their effort. He frowns. What orders do they have? And more importantly who gave it? Certainly not Imrahil. No, Imrahil would not press him like that. Still, whoever gave the order will be in so much trouble if he gets his hands on him. No matter the siege. Regardless of all that he has his mind made up.
"No! I will not allow it. Tell whoever sends you that the cavalry will not ride out. I will risk their lives for nothing. Imrahil knows what they will be needed for. Tell him it is for the stragglers. Imrahil will know what I mean."
"But my lord, we are speaking of your son. Do you not want his life to be saved?"
"No, my mind is made up. Leave!"
The runners hurry off scared. He sighs and shakes his head once more. Why did they not accept his words? He knows where they will be returning to. It makes him wonder how long he now will have peace? Considering their insistence, it does not surprise him if other runners will soon be seeking him out. Still, he will not change his mind. The cavalry is needed soon enough. Only with their support, the remaining people will have a chance to escape. He knows escape is futile. But if people want to flee then they should have the chance. He owes them that much.
He walks toward the parapet and looks down. A group of riders is hurrying back to the city. Hot on their heels are orcs on their beast. In the sky, Nazgul follow them. He looks away unwilling to see these brave men killed before they reach safety. He closes his eyes. As he does so, he hears people asking him to send the cavalry but ignores them. He does not understand why they do not stop coming. He made it clear he will not change his mind.
He opens his eyes and looks at the white tree of Gondor. It symbolizes the state Gondor is in right now; dying. Gil promised he would come. But how will he be able to? He cannot reach Minas Tirith in time. Nor can he use the rivers. The Corsairs will not allow him to reach the city. Those ships will ensure Mordor's victory if they can even hold out long enough. He sighs.
"My lord, will you not consider. Your son needs aid to reach the safety of the city. Just like the men who are with him."
Turning he sees the tearful eyes of Bergil looking at him. Oh, now they have done it. Guilt-tripping him will not work. He will not allow it. No, he will stick to his decision. He looks at Bergil intending to berate him when three runners run into the citadel.
Denethor frowns. Why are they coming? Bergil was sent as a runner, was he not? Do not tell him Bergil sought him out on his violation. Really, youngsters. He narrows his eyes at Bergil just as the runners reach him. He only pays partly attention to the runners as he already knows why they have come. He sighs.
"Alright! Tell Imrahil to ride out if he so desperately wants to risk his life and that of his cavalry. I do not know what he thinks he will achieve with it. But if he wants to, let him ride out."
Bergil smiles brightly and runs off. The runners hot on his heels. He sighs. Has he gone soft? Maybe. But all he wanted was to have peace of mind. Something which he will not have when being constantly harassed by runners who want to have him change his opinion. But by giving it, he will finally have it.
Thirty minutes later, the beating of horse hooves can be heard throughout the city. He frowns. Are they hurrying towards the houses of healing? From the sounds of it, they are moving higher into the city. His frown deepens. Why have they passed the houses of healing? Who is coming up to the citadel?
He looks down at the fields. He can see orcs moving across the fields. They are getting closer to the city with each passing minute. In the distance, siege materials are being moved. He holds his breath. How will they be able to hold Mordor off when Mordor has all the advantages? He does not know. The siege looks even bleaker than it already did.
He turns his attention more carefully to the fields. Where is Faramir's force? He can see no trace of it. All he can see are the deceased who lay scattered over the fields. Where is Faramir? And where is his cavalry? They are nowhere to be seen in the fields. Have they left? He shakes his head. He is too high in the city to make out details on the fields. If they have aided Faramir's force then it will be impossible for him to see proof of it.
The hoofbeats have gotten louder. From what he hears, they are moving through the tunnel. Are they coming towards the citadel? It would appear so. But who is it? Surely not Imrahil. He knows better than to ride a horse into the citadel. The closer the sounds get the more curious he gets. He wants a word with whoever thinks it is a good idea to ignore protocol. He turns and walks into the courtyard intending to find out who is coming and giving them a piece of his mind.
Moments later, a group of riders enter the citadel. At the front rides Imrahil. He frowns. Why is Imrahil riding into the citadel? He knows the rules. This is a revelation he never expected. His confusion lasts but momentarily when his eyes land on a slumbered form in front of Imrahil. A form he recognizes immediately.
"Faramir!"
He runs forward and ignores all the other riders who enter the citadel. No one is more important to him right now than Faramir. He looks at Faramir and what he sees is not good. He knew Faramir was injured but he did not seem to be this injured. He tries to reach for his son but Imrahil does not release him.
He looks around to see who will aid him. In the distance, he can see guards approaching while carrying a stretcher. Once the guards have reached Imrahil, they reach up. He is just about to tell them this is futile when Imrahil hands Faramir over to the guards. The guards place Faramir on the stretcher they brought with them. Almost immediately, he drops down next to it. Only now can he finally take a good look at his son. Better than he could when Faramir was held in front of Imrahil. Faramir is deadly pale. His breathing is ragged. Any hope he had left leaves him with these observations. His only remaining son is dying. And all due to his actions. And no one else. He suggested it. Even if Faramir agreed to go, it has been his idea. He is responsible for all this. He should have stopped Faramir from going. Any other captain would be able to lead the assignment. Why did he not stop Faramir?
He struggles upwards and stumbles. What will he have to do now? He does not know. He cannot seem to think as if his mind is clouded. He stumbles some way back. Only then do a few impressions come to his mind. He could stay and die fighting. Or he could stay with his son. He turns his head slowly back towards Faramir. Everyone looks expectantly at him. What do they want now? Looking at Faramir, he makes a decision.
"Bring captain Faramir to his room."
The guards look at him uncertainty. After a few moments, they pick up Faramir's stretcher and walk towards the house of the Stewards. He stumbles and falls down. He looks around once Faramir has left his line of sight. What should he do now? Fighting and dying? Or should he stay with his son? He ponders his options as best as he can. He would have valuable time with his son where he to stay with Faramir. He wants to be with his son. He stumbles upright.
"... Lord. My lord!"
"What!"
"What do we do now? You are in command. The men are awaiting orders."
He looks at Imrahil. What is he talking about? What orders? He shakes his head. He does not understand Imrahil. How can Imrahil still have hope left? All his hope has left. So why the question for orders. He shakes his head before speaking up.
"Why would we be fighting? Our fight is over! Do whatever you want. I will be with my last remaining family."
He moves forward but a hand on his shoulder stops him in his tracks. He growls and turns towards Imrahil. He is about to berate Imrahil when Imrahil speaks up.
"My lord, you do not mean that. Calm down, my lord. Your son needs healers. Send for them."
He shakes his head. He will not allow the healers to prolong Faramir's suffering. No, he refuses it. He looks at Imrahil. All he receives is a pleading look. He shakes his head once more. He will not be swayed.
"No, I will not! I mean what I said. Do whatever you like but do not bother me."
"My lord!"
He shakes the hand of hurries towards his house before anyone can stop him. He will be with his son and not anywhere else. He hears shouting in the distance but ignores it. They can do whatever they like but he will be with his son. That is what is most important right now. And certainly nothing else.