Chapter V – Steward of Gondor No More
Elphir smiled at Faramir when he entered the Council chambers. Faramir looked away quickly. Elphir did not know yet. None of them knew yet.
"Faramir, you look dreadful," Aragorn murmured worriedly. "You are not yourself this morning. Did you sleep at all last night?"
"No. I could not." Faramir sighed and tried to straighten himself to appear more lordly. Regardless of how he struggled to stay alert and at attention, he found that his shoulders continually slouched, his head constantly fell forward, and his eyes flickered shut and open sleepily. He was nearly on the verge of falling asleep at the Council table. If the other lords stared at him, he did not even notice their scrutiny.
"Were you troubled by your nightmares again?" Aragorn asked.
Faramir shook his head silently, and Aragorn knew better than to press the matter. The King called the Council to order and began the long process of reviewing all that they had done at the last Council. It took nearly a half an hour to summarize those matters, then another half an hour to lay out a course of how they would cover those issues during this Council, then another quarter of an hour to discuss any new topics which the lords felt should be addressed.
The primary issue was, naturally, Lord Glosfalath's preposterous idea to invade Khand on behalf of the Haradrim. Today was the day when the Council was to vote on the matter, but first there would be a long, painful series of arguments and counterarguments for and against the plan. Lord Glosfalath began with a reinforcing of the solid strategy that he was sure his plan embodied.
"We have been difficult friends with the Haradrim ever since the War," he argued. "Four months ago we gave them the generous gift of South Gondor, a land which has long been debated and fought over. However, they still do not trust us because of the alliance and long-lasting friendship which we retain with the inhabitants of Nurn, who, as Prince Faramir has pointed out, are close brethren with the Variags! The Haradrim will not be our full allies until we assist them in their coming war against the warriors of Khand and prove to them that our loyalty is true."
The instant Glosfalath sat down, Lord Damrod stood up. Faramir eyed Lord Damrod with a frown, uncertain of which side the young lord would take. Damrod was the youngest son of Lord Duinhir who, along with both of his elder sons, had perished in the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. Faramir had held a great distaste for Lord Duinhir, and his offspring, since childhood. The distrust was mutual, but Faramir's was better justified. He had had a bad encounter with Duinhir and his sons that left him with permanent physical scars that still irked him whenever he looked upon Lord Damrod.
"I agree with Lord Glosfalath," said Damrod in his low, droning voice. "An alliance with the Haradrim is far more valuable to us than an alliance with the Variags and the inhabitants of Nurn. Harad would be a more powerful ally, and its lands lie closer to Gondor than those of Khand or Nurn, creating a greater threat if Harad were to turn against us." He took a moment to cough lightly in his infuriatingly dull fashion and then continued. "I suggest that we not only follow Lord Glosfalath's plan for the invasion of Khand, but that we also simultaneously invade Nurn and eliminate the possibility of their forces joining the Variags."
"I concur!" declared Lord Glosfalath in delight.
Elphir stood up abruptly, tense and angry. "And how do you propose to do that? I do not doubt the strength of Gondor's army, but even now, a score of years later, we are still recovering from decimating losses that we suffered during the War of the Ring! We do not have the might to strike forcefully in two places at once, never mind to conduct a successful campaign over a span of such leagues! Your suggestion would stretch our armies far too thin, and the Variags would quickly take advantage of that."
"You are forgetting to take into account the forces of the Haradrim which will be supporting our armies," Lord Forlong II interjected arrogantly. "Their warriors have a good knowledge of the region and will double the striking power of our men. With the Haradrim as our allies, we cannot lose against the Variags!"
"Wrong," said Lord Dervorin sharply. "Did you not hear what Prince Faramir said of the Haradrim's pride? If we interfere in their conflict, they will not fight with us, but against us! If we make hasty decisions and rush into a war before consulting the diplomats of Harad, we may found ourselves fighting a war against two enemies with no allies at all!"
"Prince Faramir overlooked the fact that the Haradrim have already promised to aid us in any of our military campaigns," sneered Glosfalath.
"It is not our military campaign!" cried Elphir. "This war is the Haradrim's right! I say we leave them alone unless they purposefully request our aid!"
"By then it may be too late to organize a proper invasion!" said Lord Damrod brusquely. "Any act of our armies constitutes a military campaign of Gondor, and as such the Haradrim are obliged to assist us! If we engage the Variags, it is our war, not theirs!"
"Then we are stealing their war!" exclaimed Lord Orodreth, pounding his fist on the table.
The lords broke down into heated bickering, leaning across the table, shaking fists, and shouting at each other. Faramir covered his face in his hands, overwhelmed by the angry voices surrounding him.
"I have to resign…" he whispered, shaking his head slightly. "I have to resign… I can't deal with this anymore…"
Aragorn noticed his Steward's distress and called the lords to order immediately. Faramir was shaking and pale, and his eyes seemed almost devoid of emotion. Aragorn was worried, but he knew that he would only embarrass Faramir if he brought attention to it.
"We are civilized men," said Aragorn sternly. "We will speak one at a time, listen carefully to the arguments of one another, and then take turns offering counterarguments. Is that quite understood?" His sharp gaze fixed itself one by one on each lord, and they all nodded. "Good. Then we may continue."
The lords hesitated, unsure of who had been speaking last. Finally Lord Glosfalath looked towards Faramir and snorted.
"Why doesn't our Steward say something," he said harshly, "since he was so vehemently against the idea at our last meeting."
Faramir closed his eyes and forced himself back to the matter at hand before standing to address the Council.
"Lord Glosfalath and his supporters have made good arguments," he began politely. "However, I refuse to sanction any military action on Gondor's part. Not only would we be violating time-honored traditions of Harad, but we would also be thrusting ourselves back into an atmosphere of warfare that I do not wish Gondor to reenter. When the War of the Ring ended, it was to be the war to end all wars, and peace was to rule Middle-earth from that day forward. Will you now destroy that peace for the sake of mere politics? Will you send fathers and sons and brothers to fight and to die for a cause that is not ours to fight for? Do your interests truly lie in assisting our allies the Haradrim, or rather in the profits that may be reaped from a war in Khand?" He settled his eyes on Lord Glosfalath, who stood up rigidly.
"Are you implying something, Prince?" Glosfalath raised one eyebrow skeptically. The chambers fell deathly silent. Aragorn looked on curiously, wondering where his Steward could possibly be going with this.
"Yes, Lord Glosfalath, I am," said Faramir calmly. He put out a hand to steady himself on the table as a bout of dizziness took him. "Although it is little known to most, one may find indicative markings on old maps of the region of Khand. In the southern arm of the Ephel Dûath, as far east as the range stretches, there can be found old veins of mithril running through the mountains of which even the Variags are not aware to this day. Now, it could be that Lord Glosfalath's only intention is to send aid to the Haradrim in their conflict with the Variags, or it could be that by invading Khand he hopes to capture these mithril veins and keep a large portion of the profit for himself."
Surprise permeated the room like a foul stench, and Glosfalath's face grew dark with a combination of anger and hatred. Faramir almost failed to keep eye contact, but he forced himself to remain firm.
"This is ludicrous," snarled Glosfalath. Faramir continued, refusing to back down.
"Those of you who believed that Lord Glosfalath is driven by admirable motivations, I tell you now that you are mistaken, for you have been fooled. There is no doubt in my mind that Lord Glosfalath was very much aware of the mithril veins when he first suggested this campaign." Faramir sighed softly and took his seat. "Now that you are aware of his true objectives, I suggest that you remove your support from his plan."
For many long minutes, the assembly sat in silence. There was nothing more to be said. It was clear by the look in Glosfalath's eyes that Faramir spoke the truth about the mithril, but more frightening than this was the fact that few of the lords seemed moved by the sudden exposure of Glosfalath's selfishness! Finally Aragorn stood, and Faramir shifted uneasily in his seat.
"If that is all, then I believe we are prepared to vote," said the King solemnly. Faramir let his breath out in a hiss. He knew that Aragorn was not allowed to speak during the discussion before a vote because his opinion as King could have too great an influence on the outcome, but he wished that Aragorn would say something all the same. Faramir had tried to speak as he thought Aragorn would have. That was the best he could do. That was the Steward's job.
It suddenly occurred to him that if he resigned and someone like Glosfalath was elected as the new Steward, the balance of the Council would be completely overturned! But no, he thought. Aragorn would never allow such a thing to happen.
Most votes were taken by a mere show of hands, but this time Aragorn requested that they write their vote on a slip of parchment before handing them all up. This vote was too crucial to compromise those who voted one way or the other. Faramir thought back to the debate and tried to remember who had argued for their side. He could count on his own vote, Aragorn's, Elphir's, Dervorin's, and Orodreth's. Even one or two of the other lords who had not spoken appeared to have been convinced when Faramir spoke of the mithril veins in Khand. Unless he was mistaken, the vote would tip in their favor!
Aragorn collected the slips, and all of the lords stood to hear the decision of the vote… Faramir found himself holding his breath. The King unfolded them and read each one by one.
"Against. Against. Against," Aragorn read. Faramir began to relax until he saw Aragorn frown. "For. For. For. For."
What? How could so many lords have sided with Glosfalath after learned about the greed that motivated him? Faramir tried not to panic. There were still four votes left…
"Against."
Hope lit again. They needed only two more votes against Glosfalath's plan…
"For. For. For."
Shock hit Faramir like a physical blow. He rocked back on his heels and collapsed in agony to his chair. How was this possible? It couldn't be true! They had lost with only four out of eleven votes! But how? With himself, Orodreth, Dervorin, Elphir, and Aragorn, he had been sure that they would take at least five! Someone had changed their argument when they voted! Faramir cast his gaze around the table, and his eyes caught on Orodreth's face. It was full of guilt.
Faramir strained to keep himself from breaking down in tears. They had lost. They had lost. They were going to war… Aragorn was saying something, probably something important, but Faramir could not hear him. In twenty years, this was the first time that Faramir had failed to turn a vote in their favor if he addressed the Council. How could he not have seen it, the greed that glinted in all of their eyes? His declaration of Glosfalath's malicious, selfish intent had not made them furious but eager! They wanted a share of the mithril themselves! How could he be so blind?
"Faramir," Elphir whispered haltingly. Faramir ignored him and began packing up his things with the slow deliberateness of one who is trying desperately not to lose his self-control. "Faramir, the King is speaking to you."
Faramir turned to see Aragorn's sad eyes fixed on him. He realized with a jolt that the entire Council was staring at him expectantly.
"I have asked you to inform the lords of your decision, Faramir," Aragorn murmured. A leap of anxiety flitted through Faramir's heart. He looked back towards Elphir and saw his cousin's concern; he was patiently awaiting what Faramir had to say, not knowing that it would probably break his heart.
"I-I have decided that I must resign from my office," said Faramir, pronouncing each word as though it was his last. A wave of shock rippled though the Council. Elphir was so taken aback that his mouth hung open in disbelief and he shook his head slowly from side to side. Faramir looked back down at his work and continued getting it in order, as if nothing had happened.
"Prince Faramir, you cannot resign!" cried Dervorin. "What shall become of the Stewardship? Your Princedom?"
"The Stewardship shall pass to whichever man King Elessar appoints," said Faramir wearily. "I have his Majesty's leave," he nodded respectfully towards Aragorn, "to retain my Princedom in Ithilien and my Lordship of Emyn Arnen."
The eyes of every lord was fixed on him. It hit him only now how deep their respect for him was, how many of them looked to him for guidance on the Council. Suddenly he hated them. Each and every one of them. They were not noble or honorable. They had no dignity. They would surrender the peace of Gondor for the sake of mithril, and he hated them for it.
"Please excuse me," he mumbled curtly before heading for the door. Lord Glosfalath edged backwards just enough to tip over his chair in Faramir's path, and Faramir closed his eyes to stop all of his anger and pain from pouring out at once.
"Pardon me, Prince Faramir," snickered Glosfalath as he righted his chair. He bowed politely and offered his hand to Faramir, but every movement of his was full of such a mocking air that Faramir was sickened by it. Faramir shook Glosfalath's hand in as gentlemanly a fashion as he could manage and moved towards the door quickly, but not before he heard Glosfalath mutter derisively, "You will be missed."
Outside the Council chambers, Faramir released a shuddering sob that he could not hold back any longer. There was no doubt in his mind that he must resign. He was not the brilliant politician Aragorn made him out to be. He was not a diplomatic mastermind. His failure to see past the lords' facades, to see the insatiable greed that lay beneath, had resulted in a fatal mistake which would now cost thousands of Gondorian men their lives. The burden of guilt was so heavy… He feared that if he carried it much longer it would truly break him.
"Faramir?"
Faramir closed his eyes. His cousin's voice was laced with such sorrow and pain that he could almost not bear to hear it.
"Faramir, how can you resign?" Elphir closed the door to the Council chambers quietly. He was as close to tears as Faramir had ever seen him. "Gondor needs you as our Steward. How can you turn your back on—"
"I am not turning my back on anything," said Faramir, looking away. "Did you see what happened in there? Did you see the mistakes I made? How could I not have seen it, Elphir? How could I not have predicted…? There was a time when I would never have missed something so obvious! I am no longer worthy of my office."
"You are too hard on yourself," said Elphir sharply. "You cannot expect yourself to be perfect. You have always tried so hard to be perfect, when all you ever have to do is do your best! You had no way of knowing that those mithril-hungry bastards would side with Glosfalath! No one has the right to expect you to know!"
Faramir was slightly surprised. He had not heard his cousin curse since they were soldiers together during the War of the Ring.
"One vote is not the end of this, Faramir. Do you think Elessar would leave such an enormous decision to a single vote? He can override the Council if he chooses and simply deny Glosfalath's proposal completely!"
"He will not because he fears that overriding too many of their decisions will lead to a revolt," Faramir snapped. "He was already forced to override them when he gave South Gondor to Harad four months ago, because neither of us was present to vote!"
"You know that that was out of our control, Faramir—"
"No it was not! It was my fault because since Éowyn's death I have failed in every single one of my duties!" Faramir shouted, his voice cracking on her name. "I am not the man I used to be, Elphir, and I can no longer live with people expecting me to be! I cannot deal with this stress! Don't you understand? It is driving me mad!"
"Have you given any thought to what will happen if you do this, Faramir?" asked Elphir softly. "Elboron is not old enough to take your place. Your replacement must be chosen from among the lords of Gondor or their sons. Which of those on the Council do you see fit for the office, Faramir? Orodreth, the traitor? Damrod, sly dog that he is? Dervorin, too weak-kneed to form an opinion of his own? Glosfalath, perhaps?"
"I have already suggested to the King that he choose you as my successor." Faramir paused to see the shock spread over Elphir's face. "Whether he does or not is another matter, but either way it is no longer my concern. I am the Steward of Gondor no more."