"Sometimes I really think people ought to have to pass a proper exam before they're allowed to be parents.
Not just the practical, I mean."
― Terry Pratchett, Thief of Time
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35. The Worst Dad
Pushing down her annoyance and dismay, Kat looked out of the window again. How much time had passed? She would have to think about her strange soul journey later.
The sky still had that unhealthy, inky color, and against it Kat saw five sets of wings. The Nazgûl! They were flying away, gaining height in wide spirals until the black cloud from Mordor swallowed them up. What had scared them off?
There was a commotion outside; people shouting things and cheering. Jumping down from the windowsill, Kat pushed the door open. This clearly was important and she knew she had to be where Gandalf was. The front door was trickier – definitely not constructed to be opened by a paw – but luckily the sound from the street made a few other residents hurry out too. Kat quickly slipped after them before the door slammed closed again.
Outside, she scanned the crowd in the semi-darkness, until a small shape drew her gaze. Pippin!
He grinned when Kat joined him. "Did you see that? Gandalf saved Faramir from the flying shadows. He was brilliant! It was as if he wielded a spear made of sunlight when he galloped out there on Shadowfax."
Kat shook her head in reply. So it had been Gandalf! Not surprising, actually.
They heard a cheer rise from the lower levels of the city. "Faramir! Mithrandir!" people chanted, over and over again.
When Gandalf and Faramir walked in through the gate, followed by a long tail of cheering citizens, the roar became deafening. The bystanders expectantly pressed closer, pulling Pippin with them in the throng, and he quickly picked Kat up before she could be trampled by their eager feet.
From her perch on Pippin's shoulders, Kat soon saw Faramir more clearly. His green clothes were worn and stained, and he walked with the heavy gait of one near exhaustion. Apart from that he seemed composed, and if he was afraid after being attacked by five ringwraiths, he hid it well. Though his face was very pale, he looked sad more than anything.
Kat could see a lot of his brother in Faramir. He was handsome in the same way Boromir was, with more of a boyish charm than the way-above-your-league appearance of Aragorn.
Pippin excitedly joined the chanting choir: "Mithrandir! Mithrandir! Faramir! Faramir!"
Faramir stopped dead when his gaze landed on Pippin. Sounding shocked, he asked how there could be a halfling here, wearing the clothes of a citadel guard?
"He came with me from the land of the halflings," Gandalf explained, adding that they had no time to speak more about it here. Pippin would follow them to Lord Denethor, who was his master too now.
Kat slunk after them, not wanting to miss this meeting, and like before she took cover behind one of the silent servants along the wall.
Food and drink was offered to Faramir, but he refused to eat. Instead he began to report to his father about his mission in Ithilien. Kat tried as best she could to follow his tale, but he used a military language with too many new words for her. It was something about troop movements, number of regiments, weapon types – and lastly he told of a fight in the woods, where the rangers had bested what appeared to be a large animal controlled by enemy allies.
While he spoke, his voice was calm, but Kat with her animal senses felt strange feelings emanate from him. He was worried, and deeply sad over something – something he kept to himself, for some reason, and in addition he was afraid. Afraid of his father? Or something else?
Then Faramir unexpectedly turned to Pippin, and said that he was not the first halfling he had seen.
Pippin started and opened his mouth to say something, but after a stern look from Gandalf he quickly snapped it shut.
Faramir described how he and his rangers had met a halfling named Frodo, and his servant Sam, and questioned them thoroughly. Another creature had been with them – a skinny, wicked thing – who surprisingly was their guide.
When hearing that, Kat had a hard time remaining still in her hiding place. Gollum! It must be Gollum Faramir was talking of, and that meant he knew where he was! Finally she had met someone who could bring her to the one she must save.
Continuing, Faramir said that Frodo had been very insistent on going to Mordor, for he had a certain errand there – here Faramir glanced meaningfully at Gandalf – and the road he meant to take went through Cirith Ungol.
This seemed to be a very bad route, for Gandalf, who had kept silent the whole time until then, jumped up from his chair and began to fire questions at the man. When had they parted? Where were they then, and how far was it? When would they arrive at Cirith Ungol? Had Boromir been with them on any part of the journey?
Faramir stated the distance, but in leagues, a unit that made no sense to Kat. "I parted with them in the morning two days ago," he continued. "At that time they had not seen Boromir since they left the rest of the company above the Falls. It appeared to me… It appeared they did not part on friendly terms." He gave Gandalf another meaningful look.
Extremely worried – frightened even – Gandalf began walking to and fro, muttering about an accursed valley. And almost three days ago, now!
Faramir said he had returned as soon as he could, but he had gone on foot most of the way. Not until they came to a nearby island called Cair Andros, could he get horses for himself and three of his men and hurry back to Minas Tirith with the news. The rest of the rangers he had sent to guard the fords at Osgiliath.
Turning to Denethor, whose face had become cloudy like a thunderstorm, Faramir asked: "I hope that I have not done ill?"
"Ill?" spat his father. Did Faramir think he was stupid? He had not missed how his son looked at the wizard to make sure he would not say too much. Oh, how he wished Boromir had been there! He would not have wasted such a good fortune. He would have brought his father a mighty gift.
Faramir dropped his gaze, a blush creeping up his cheeks, but before he could reply Gandalf chimed in: "In no case would Boromir have brought it to you." It had corrupted him before, and would have done so now as well. He would have taken it for himself, for such was its power, and then Denethor would not recognize his son anymore.
In a voice cold enough to freeze a balrog, Denethor said it was clear that Gandalf had found his elder son less of an obedient puppy than the younger, but as Boromir's father he knew best what the man would have done, or not. And for all his cleverness, Gandalf didn't realize how much knowledge Denethor already had in this matter.
Gandalf mildly asked what he knew?
The other replied that he knew Gandalf and this son of his had sent it with a witless halfling into the enemy's own land – and that was folly, indeed!
"And the Lord Denethor… What would he have done?"
"Neither." He would never have risked the ruin of them all by allowing the enemy to reclaim his lost treasure, but instead he would have hidden the thing in the deep vaults below the citadel. He would only use it if it was absolutely necessary. If Gandalf didn't trust he could keep it safe, then it was only because the wizard didn't know him that well yet.
"I do not trust you," agreed Gandalf. He didn't even trust himself to resist this thing in the long run! If it had been kept here, no matter how deep it was buried, it would have gnawed on their minds until they succumbed to it.
The two old men were leaning towards each other now, staring daggers.
Then Denethor suddenly shrugged. "If this, if that!" The thing had gone to the shadows now, and they were all doomed.
Abruptly changing the subject, he asked Faramir about the troops at Osgiliath. Were they enough? That was where the enemy would strike first.
Faramir sat straighter, and replied that despite the addition of his rangers, their garrison was still weak.
"They will have need of some stout captain there. Do you have anything else to report? If not, you ought to rest."
Faramir blanched. "Aye. There is one more thing…" He swallowed, fighting to keep calm. "My father… It is with a heavy heart, I bring this news to you." Pulling his chair closer to Denethor's, he took out something he had kept hidden under his cloak, an object Kat recognized well: a white horn. Last time she saw it it had been whole, in Boromir's belt – unless she counted the brief image in Vairë's loom. Now it was cut in halves, just like in the vision.
Wordlessly, the old man took the horn with hands that had begun to tremble, staring at the pieces in disbelief. "My Boromir…" he whispered.
"We found it when we forded the river earlier. I am so sorry to burden you thus." Faramir clenched his fists. "Alas for my brother, whom I too loved!"
Kat swallowed a lump in her throat. She recalled Boromir's familiar face, looking so much like Faramir's. Was he dead then? It was obvious his brother and father thought so.
In the seconds that followed, Denethor went through a shocking change. It was as if all strength left the proud man, all the anger and sternness he had shown in the fight of wills with Gandalf. What remained was a sad old father who had lost his beloved child. His eyes were dry, but he clutched the horn so hard his fingers whitened.
Briefly, Kat's heart went out to him, but what he said next instantly made her lose all sympathy.
"You should have gone in his stead," Denethor murmured in a shaking voice.
Faramir became stiff. "You wish that our places had been exchanged," he stated silently.
"Yes, I wish that indeed."
Kat stared at them, abhorred by the exchange. Had the man just told his son he wished he had died instead of his brother?
Behind his chair, Pippin piped up: "Boromir lived when I last saw him a fortnight ago. Perhaps he just lost the horn?"
"Lost it? Lost the horn of his fathers?" Denethor sneered. "Do not speak what you do not understand, halfling." When he turned back to Faramir, he had somehow managed to quench his grief and resume his usual stern and commanding manners. Only his thin fingers still clinging to the horn betrayed the feelings he held at bay. "Now I am even more determined to hold the enemy off at Osgiliath," he said. "If there is even the slightest possibility my son still lives, it is there he will come first. We have no time to lose, even for a night's rest."
"We cannot defend it for long, and if the enemy breaks through, the retreat would be perilous. I fear it would be a waste of men. The enemy can afford to lose a host better than we to lose a company."
Denethor frowned. "Much must be risked in war. I already lost one loyal captain; do I have one left who has the courage to do his lord's will – and not only follow the counsel and webs of wizards?" He gave Gandalf a black glare.
Faramir was silent for a long time, before he replied. "I do not oppose your will, sire. Since you are robbed of Boromir, I will go and do what I can in his stead. If you command it?"
"I do so."
"Then farewell!" He swayed slightly as he rose from the chair. "If I should return – think better of me."
"That depends on the manner of your return. Now go. Go all of you, and leave me to my grief." He sunk back in his chair, still cradling the broken horn.
With a straight back and unreadable features Faramir walked out, flanked by Pippin and Gandalf, but when Kat slunk after them she sensed the bottomless pain Faramir was holding in.
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Outside, Faramir lost his balance and would have fallen if not Gandalf had hurried to support him.
"You must be exhausted," he said soothingly. "Can I take you somewhere?"
Faramir straightened up. "I can manage," he replied curtly.
"I need to speak with you. There are matters concerning your brother I would not discuss here in the open."
That caught the other's attention. "Then come with me."
When they began walking again, Kat suddenly heard Gandalf's voice in her head: How well can you sense a person's smell?
Uh, how do you mean?
Tracking-wise. Could you follow a person after he left a place, say, a day earlier?
You mean Gollum, Kat realized. I saw myself tracking him in the vision, so I suppose I can… But I never tried.
They had arrived at Faramir's personal quarters now, a spacious suite in another part of the citadel, and though he gave Kat a surprised look he let her come in too.
Kat curiously looked around. The room was beautiful, with large windows overlooking the city, colorful paintings, embroidered tapestries and elegant furniture, but despite the finery it seemed impersonal and unoccupied. The huge, gilded four-poster bed with velvet curtains looked like it had never been slept in, and the fabric of the sofas and padded benches beneath the windows were still pristinely white. There were no personal things in sight; no odd socks on the floor, no hairy combs on the vanity or boot marks on the rug. The only inhabited part appeared to be one corner, where a narrow, spartan bed stood beside a desk full of books and neat stacks of paper.
It almost seemed as if Faramir was a guest in his own home.
"Try to be brief. I must rouse my men, and prepare to leave immediately." He tiredly sank down on a simple, three-legged stool beside the desk.
Kat gave him a sympathetic look. If she had understood what he said correctly, this man had been travelling for two days straight and hardly slept at all. And now he would have to organize a defence garrison in the middle of the night.
Gandalf obediently summarized what had happened between Frodo and Boromir, the latter's planned journey with the wounded elf, and the worry that he had later abandoned her to hunt down Frodo instead. But if the broken horn was anything to go by, perhaps the hobbit would be safe now – from that danger, at least.
Faramir looked away, his face unreadable. "Indeed."
"There is another matter too," said Gandalf. "This cat here must be taken to where she can find the halflings' trail. The creature Gollum is apparently more important than anyone could imagine, and she has been tasked to save him – by the Valar themselves, so do not take it lightly."
"The cat?" Faramir stared incredulously at her.
"Yes, the cat," said Gandalf impatiently. "With your orders now, I suppose I cannot bid you to do it. Are there any of your men you can spare?"
"No." He vigorously shook his head.
"Someone from the city, then?"
"Perhaps a citadel guard. Until the enemy breaks the seventh circle, I think we can spare one – and let us hope it shall never come to that."
"Thank you. I do not want to trouble you more, but you know these lands better than I. Could you make a detailed description of the fastest route to the cross-roads? If Frodo is headed to Cirith Ungol he must pass it. How long would it take there?"
"A well-rested, fast horse with not too heavy a burden could make it there in less than half a day. Five hours, at most."
"Great. By then she may yet pick up the trail – or so I hope."
Taking a blank sheet from the desk, Faramir quickly drew a simple map and scribbled down a few explaining lines. "There. I added a note to the stablemaster that he is to lend you the fastest and most resilient messenger horse, and to any citadel guard who volunteers that I sanction his leave. I regret I cannot go myself, for I would like to return upriver and see if I can find… What's left of–" He broke off, his face becoming a mask of grief as his stern self-control faltered at last.
Gandalf patted his shoulder. "Thank you," he said simply. "I shall leave you to your preparations. I am sorry – for everything."
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(,u _ u,)
After leaving the poor man alone, Gandalf sent Pippin on an errand. "Run away to the Third Company mess and see if you can find Beregond. He is a good, loyal man, whom I trust to carry out such a mission without asking too many questions. Bring him to the stables."
Pippin scurried off, and Gandalf continued in long strides while rapidly firing instructions to Kat – verbally, this time, for apparently he had not enough willpower left to send them mentally. "As soon as you find their trail you must hurry. Keep walking, and only make very brief pauses. Eat lembas as you go, if you must. You see, I fear for them. The path they are headed is old and dangerous, and inhabited by an evil stemming from the early days of Morgoth."
I don't understand…
"I know, I know. But you don't have to understand. Just try to keep them safe as best you can. If you manage to catch up with them, you could lead them safely through a very dark place."
They had arrived at the sixth level, where Gandalf roused the sleeping stablemaster and ordered him to bring them a horse. After a quick glance at Faramir's note, the man straightened and bowed. Soon he had the chosen steed ready, a brown stallion that seemed skittish and eager, and not entirely safe to ride.
Kat swallowed. Again things happened too fast for her to have time to prepare herself.
Good luck. Gandalf placed Kat in front of the saddle, much to the surprise of the stablemaster.
Soon after, Pippin and Beregond joined them, and just as Gandalf had predicted the man did as he was bid without questions. Faramir's order was enough.
"Good luck," said Pippin. "Both of you."
"Hurry back, Beregond," added Gandalf. "The enemy could be here any day now."
Beregond bowed and mounted the horse, taking Kat in his lap. Not long afterwards, they were galloping down the winding streets of the sleeping city at a nauseating speed.
A/N:
Aaand she's off at last! *woop woop*
It seems poor Faramir just missed Boromir at Cair Andros… And now Beregond is sent away on a mission. Hm. Let's hope he wasn't too badly needed in the city. ;)
Thank you dearest reviewers. You never fail to make my day. *mwah!* Shoutout to: Tam, LairaCapulet, Momochan77, rookie villain, Katia0203, wild, Nymiriel, Guest and d'elfe.