A/N: A slightly shorter chapter, in anticipation of the Battle of Pelennor Fields, which is imminent. An appetiser as it were.
I always figured that if Boromir was present, Denethor might be pushed back into sanity. I will freely admit that this has been done before, but it makes sense, and I've phrased it differently to any other (I think).
Implications, less than subtle, of sex in which I am probably pushing the T boundary as far as it will go.
The mood in Minas Tirith was decidedly nervous as soldiers marched in from Lossarnach, Pelargir, Dol Amroth and sundry other places, as Gondor called on her outlying provinces for aid. And while every soldier who came was reasonably well equipped and trained, it was painfully obvious that they, Dol Amroth aside since Prince Imrahil had come personally leading the legendary swan knights to great acclaim and no little relief, had kept their best troops at home. They believed that Minas Tirith, so long the bastion of the West, would fall in the same manner as Osgiliath, the formerly great riverside capital that was now a strategically placed ruin which periodically changed hands between Orc's and Men. The only things that brought hope to the city were the presence of Boromir, the widely loved and talismanic Captain General, Gandalf, the famed White Wizard, and Harry, the Black Wizard, who was a less known but much theorised about person of power. The latest theory was that he was a mighty elf lord from the farthest west or east, who had only revealed himself in these terrible times. This had amused Harry, and he wondered whether he should glamour his ears into points, then dismissed it, filing it away for future consideration.
Harry looked out over the city as the stars sparkled in the sky. It was March and chilly for the time of year, but a warming charm soon took care of that problem. He wore only a pair of sturdy black breeches that had served him well in Middle Earth, and didn't particularly care if someone bothered to look up and see the powerful and mysterious Black Wizard half naked on a balcony. Still, even in these times there were things to be happy about, he thought as he turned to look fondly at Ginny, who was asleep, looking beautifully mussed, red hair gleaming in the moonlight. Ginny Weasley, beautiful witch extraordinaire, accept no substitutes.
The White City was beautiful in the moonlight. It gained an extra lustre, a fairy-tale quality that it did not possess in the light of day, he thought, as it glowed softly all around him. It had a magnificence that utterly dwarfed Edoras, though the hilltop city gave off a sense of being tough, dirty, but honest. Harry knew all too well that while Minas Tirith was beautiful, foul deeds and corruption still existed, all the more jarringly for the beautiful city they festered at the heart of. And parts of the lower levels had to be seen, or smelled, to be believed. But it was human, and a monument to the human spirit. His slight smile faded. A monument that could come crashing down if he didn't help to hold it up.
"Harry?" Ginny said sleepily, walking up behind him, sheets wrapped around her body. "What is it?"
"I'm worrying. I'm not sure if I, you, Boromir and Gandalf will be enough to save this city. Sure, we survived Helm's Deep, but I nearly killed myself in the process and it required Gandalf and an army of trees and Eomer to save us."
"The defence force of Minas Tirith is bigger and better armed." Ginny pointed out, having had the cliff notes edition of Helm's Deep on the way to Gondor.
"So is Sauron's army." Harry said gloomily. "Speaking of Helm's Deep, I really need to speak to Boromir about that. I vaguely remember doing something epic then passing out."
"I think… that you need to stop worrying." Ginny said.
"Yeah? And how are you going to achieve that? The twins blowing up their joke shop behind me couldn't stop me worrying. I'm scared, Gin. Scared, not for myself, but everyone I have to protect."
"Harry, you're a wonderful man and I love you dearly, but you are a complete idiot sometimes," Ginny said with a sigh, then twirled Harry round to face her, dropping the sheets in the process and kissed him hard, arms wrapping gently around him.
"Wow. Consider me distracted." Harry said, blinking owlishly, and muzzily thinking that he had two good sized reasons he was very glad Ginny hadn't gone for a warming charm.
"You take too much on yourself. Sometimes you have to realise that you aren't alone." She said softly, stroking his hair gently. Then she flashed a lascivious grin, dragging him back towards the bed. "Come on. We've got 5 years to make up for in very little time."
"Whither thou goest." Harry said happily, letting himself be dragged. Funnily enough, they didn't bother with sheets.
The next morning Boromir took one look at Harry and Ginny's messy and extremely cheerful demeanour and let out a small cheer.
"Hungry? After a night like that you should be." He said, smirking and indicating a plate of food that featured a mix of hot food, bacon, eggs, toast and cold meat, with a couple of mushrooms remaining that Pippin seemed to be restraining himself from eating with great difficulty.
In an effort to distract himself, he looked at Harry and Ginny, and said innocently, "Did you sleep well? You look as if you didn't get much sleep."
"It was fantastic…" Harry said dreamily before Ginny elbowed him in the ribs. "Oh, you meant the sleep. Well, not so much. There was… a lot of tossing and turning."
"Good thing that it was a big bed, think of the trouble if you'd rolled off." Pippin said cheerily, buttering a piece of toast.
"Yeah. Heh." Harry said, looking around awkwardly and following Ginny's example by grabbing something to eat, one of the last two mushrooms which Pippin watched him eat with a somewhat mournful expression.
"Ah, Harry, Ginny, I take it you two slept soundly?" Gandalf asked, eyes twinkling in a Dumbledore like fashion.
"Very soundly, thank you Gandalf. I find exercise before bed helps you sleep." Ginny said blithely, winking at Harry.
Gandalf laughed a deep belly laugh. "So that's what they're calling it these days."
Boromir was now strapping on his sword belt and armour. "If you'll excuse, I have to go and make the Elite Guard's lives a living hell until I know for certain that the lazy bastards haven't been drinking, gambling and shagging their way through the city after I left." He said with a grin.
As he was about to leave, Harry shaded his eyes against the midmorning sun, not that it was easy to tell anything more than night and day apart any more, and said, "Something's out on the plain, close to Osgiliath. 30, maybe 40 riders riding hell for leather from Osgiliath, and they're being chased by… Oh fuck, the Nazgul are after the Osgiliath garrison and they are flying. When and why did they start flying on something out of the fucking Jurassic? Accio Sword!" He said, catching the sword of Gryffindor and strapping it to his own sword belt. He had put his newly cleaned surcoat on, and the light armour. The helmet would have to wait for another time.
"Ginny, take Gandalf, Pippin and Boromir down to the stables pronto! I'll meet you down at the wall." He said, summoning his Firebolt and leaping off the balcony, then shooting over the city like a red and gold arrow, streaking towards the Nazgul.
Less than 2 minutes later, the horses were galloping down through the city with whoever could be convinced into coming, and the gates were opening after Harry had threatened the young and nervous captain on duty with a new life as a chicken if he didn't open the gates. Pippin watched from the wall as Harry shot over fields at an unnatural pace, scudding along the ground and pulling around to the Nazgul's flank, exploding upwards as Gandalf emitted a harsh white light from his staff, the White Rider forcing the Nazgul to break off, a situation compounded by Ginny casting a massive Patronus shield over those riders that still lived.
Harry fired off blasts of force and light at the Nazgul and their fell beasts, encouraging the aptly dubbed 'wraith's with wings' on their way, the wind of his passage as he went barrelling past forcing the mounts to pound at the air with a sound like a giant damp carpet being unrolled all at once, a kind of wet thumping sound, screeching and roaring as they did so. Harry quickly checked those who had fallen from their horses in the shock of the Nazgul's assault, providing a merciful death to the dying with a promise to retrieve their bodies afterwards. The one survivor he carefully lifted onto his broom and flew in. As he landed and dispatched the man to the Houses of Healing, he saw Boromir and Faramir greet each other joyfully and caught the end of the conversation.
"… you did not have father's permission?" Faramir said, face almost falling. Harry winced. He had clearly thought that his father had ordered the most powerful weapons his arsenal out onto the field to save his son, instead of it being a spontaneous reaction to danger.
"Where would I be if I asked father's permission for everything? And can a man not ride to save his brother's life without permission from his commander?" Boromir replied.
Faramir's face clearly said that no, you couldn't if that commander was Denethor son of Ecthelion.
And this was borne out when Denethor harangued Boromir for risking his life to save Faramir.
"You nearly cost us some of our greatest military assets to save 30 men!" Denethor said, practically spitting with fury
"One of those men was your younger son, Father, in case you had forgotten!" Boromir said harshly. "What kind of father would let his own son die? Hmm?"
Denethor stayed silent, then said coldly. "And what kind of Steward would I be if I let my chief Commander, 2 wizards and a witch risk their lives against some of the greatest Sauron has to offer, simply to save 30 men? Faramir, you will retake Osgiliath, today. Assemble a force, the city must be retaken, before they get a foothold."
Faramir turned to go, but Boromir stopped him. "No!" He said, voice cracking like a whip. "As Captain-General of Gondor I overrule that order."
"You dare-" Denethor said, going red, getting to his feet.
"Yes, I dare! And, father, if you continue making decisions based solely on delusions and on whims, I will have you removed from office and take up the Stewardship myself!" Boromir cut across his Father. Harry raised his eyebrows. This was nigh unprecedented, a Steward had never been impeached, though apparently the mechanisms to do so were present.
"Boromir, everything I have done, I have done for our family, and Gondor!" Denethor, said pleading with his son.
"And what I do, I do for Gondor, and then our family. If that means I have to depose you and welcome Aragorn as King, I will do so." Boromir, said, immovable as granite, then added cuttingly, "And I don't see how sending my brother and however many other men on a futile attempt to take a city we cannot recapture, let alone defend if we took it, is good for either our family, or Gondor."
Denethor sagged, sitting down with a thump. "If Osgiliath is lost, our last defence against Mordor is lost. Don't you see my son? We must have it back!"
"Our last defence? We have the walls of Minas Tirith, we have allies that 10 years ago would be unimaginable! We have Harry, who I personally saw slaughter half an army, then drive off thousands of creatures, each with a tithe of the power of the least of the Nazgul before being forced to withdraw, then leading the charge a scant few hours later. We have his brothers and sisters in Wizardry, 3 of whom are with Théoden of Rohan, we have Gandalf the White. I know you do not like either Harry or Gandalf, but I know that they will defend this city and its people to their last breath. We have Rohan. Light the beacons father, and Théoden will come, and yes, Aragorn too. I know that you also resent his coming, seeing it as a diminishing of our familial power, but he is an inspirational leader, a mighty warrior who leads from the front, a skilled tactician and leader. He is everything you wanted me to be Father. He is what we need. And you forget our last and best defence. Our courage. Do not underestimate the will of the people when it is put to the test, father. Leave that to our enemies who force their armies onto the field through fear." Boromir said, eloquent and impassioned.
"Aragorn is everything you are, Boromir. A wiser, more experienced and even tempered man admittedly, with a slightly greater knack for leadership and knowing the hearts of men that comes from his line as well a few other things, but you greatly underestimate yourself. You are a great man Boromir, if only you would allow yourself to see it." Harry said quietly. "What happened at the Falls of Rauros was not your fault."
"For once, and I believe it is a sign of the end that I am, I agree with the Black Wizard. The Ring almost destroyed, yet here you are, brave, strong and wiser. All the qualities you claim that he has that you do not you possess. I see that now. I will bow to your wishes my son, and I grant you supreme command of all Gondor's armies, for I feel I am too old to make campaign decisions as well as I once did. All military related decisions are yours to make, and Faramir will be your second, answering to none but you. All I ask in return is that you save Gondor. Save my country, my son, and her people. That is all I ask." Denethor said, his voice getting quieter as he spoke.
"Father?" Boromir said, very surprised at this turn of events.
"Now is your time, my boy. You are young, you are strong and you have become wise. You have collected a series of loyal friends and powerful allies. Use them wisely, for Gondor's sake." Denethor said tiredly. Harry flipped his gaze to Gandalf, who looked slightly surprised at Denethor's sudden capitulation. Then again, it had come from Boromir, who Denethor had always had a soft spot for, so it made sense that he would be the one to get through to the distressed Steward.
Harry then bowed deeply to Denethor, hand on heart, respect in his eyes. He could clearly see what it had cost Denethor to do what he had done, and there was no other response other than deep respect. He may not like the crotchety old bastard, but he could respect him. Denethor dipped his head briefly in acknowledgement, then sending for a scribe to complete the transfer of power in writing.
"What are your first commands, Captain-General?" Gandalf asked quietly.
"Light the beacons and raise the levies. Each man and woman between the age of 16 and 60 without a crippling injury can sign up. Don't make it compulsory, not yet at least." Boromir said, rubbing his beard in thought. Moments later both orders were down in writing, and Harry disapparated to the beacons with a crack, reappearing a minute or so later.
"The beacons are lit, and the nearest beacon has responded, as has the next." Harry said crisply.
"Thank you, Harry. Can you ward the city like you did Helm's Deep?" Boromir queried.
Harry shook his head. "I can do a basic arrow and projectile ward, but it won't last more than an hour under sustained assault, and even if I managed to cast a complex entropy shield like Helm's Deep over that wide an area, it would last at most half an hour and I would be useless for the rest of the battle and with the Nazgul around..." He shuddered and everyone briefly thought of the havoc the Nine could cause if left undistracted.
"I can cast an entropy shield just beyond the walls and hold it. You can hold off the Nazgul things." Ginny replied.
"Are you sure?" Harry asked. Ginny gave him a flat glare and he raised his palms in surrender. "Okay, you're sure."
"Also, send a letter out to the outlying provinces, save Dol Amroth. Tell them that if they don't send all their active troops and raise volunteers to march to the aid of Minas Tirith, the heaviest post war taxes will fall upon them. It's harsh, I know, but if it's that or die, I'll take harsh. Tell them also it can only be contradicted by an order from I, Faramir, my father or…" Boromir gulped and said, "King Aragorn."
Rohan
Aragorn himself was sitting by the sentry post, smoking convivially with Sirius, who had decided to eat something, when he saw the beacon light up. He blinked, turned and ran like a hare towards Meduseld. He barely even noticed the large black dog draw level with him as he raced up the stairs.
"The Beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid!" He called as he burst into the hall, drawing the attention of Théoden and his commanders who were pouring over the maps and logistics.
"And Rohan shall answer." Théoden said strongly, then blinked, staring at Sirius who was nonchalantly standing beside Aragorn.
"Yeah, I forgot to mention I'm an animagus. I can turn into a big black dog at will." Sirius said in an affectation of boredom. He then added, "I suppose in hindsight we should have been suspicious when Peter turned into a rat, since it's based on your personality."
"Can Harry do that?" Aragorn said, taking it in his stride.
"No. Or at least, not when I last saw him. It takes years of study to learn, so somehow I doubt it." Sirius said, shrugging.
"Send out the muster, tell the men to meet up at Dunharrow. We ride to war." Théoden said, walking out of the hall at decent clip.
"Lord King?" Merry asked politely.
"Yes?"
"I would like to serve as an Esquire of Rohan." Merry said, a little nervously.
"It will be done. Not immediately, as I have things to attend to, but before we leave." Théoden said firmly, then moving on, giving orders by the dozen.
Ron and Hermione were packing. "This seem a little familiar to you, Hermione?" Ron asked with a half-smile.
"A little too familiar for comfort's sake. I wish we could just have taken Harry and gone. He's fought for long enough." Hermione said frustratedly.
"He wouldn't come back, not when people need his help. Nor would any of us, come to think of it." Ron replied.
Hermione sighed. "You're right, I know. I hope they're all right in Gondor, I mean, Harry's strong and somehow he got hold of the sword of Gryffindor, but he's still human."
"'Mione, half the people here think he's some sort of angel, the other half a god. The tales I hear, he took control of a thunderstorm and turned it on the local Dark Wizard's army killing thousands, after holding a heavy duty entropy shield over the entire fortress for 2 hours, then having enough in the tank to take on and beat over a thousand Dementors. And after that, he crushed Saruman, the Dark Wizard, in a duel. He's a lot stronger now than he ever was. If anyone can save Minas Tirith, it's him."
Hermione frowned. "Surely the numbers are exaggerated, in the chaos of battle."
"I got them from Prince Theodred himself."
"But it doesn't make sense, the only person in our time who could have managed that sort of thing is Dumbledore, and he's dead, meddling portrait notwithstanding. It's the sort of thing you hear about Merlin doing!" Hermione said, confused.
"The sword could be helping him. I heard that something, or rather, someone possessed Harry to fight off the Dementors." Ron supplied.
"It would make sense, when Harry was stuck with a piece of Voldemort's soul he did some very strange things." Hermione mused, then asked, "When did you hear all this?"
Ron looked shifty and said, "Theodred is a talkative drunk. That night was all Sirius' fault." He added grumpily.
Hermione smiled. "You still chose to drink whatever it was he put in front of you."
"How was I to know he was so good at transfiguring drinks?" Ron exclaimed.
"The first tankard of Firewhiskey should have been a clue. Honestly Ron, I'm surprised your liver wasn't pickled when you got back. What were you drinking?"
"No idea. We started with beer, moved to Firewhiskey, then Sirius started mixing up something he called a Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster. It reminded me vaguely of gold bricks and lemons, and after the first tankard, I remember nothing." Ron said, more than a little puzzled.
Hermione inwardly made a resolution never to let Sirius anywhere near the drinks at future celebrations.
Soon, the bags were packed, horses were saddled, Aragorn was dealing with the fact that Eowyn was very much in love with him and trying to work out how to break the fact that he was in love and due to be married to her, and Merry was made an Esquire of Rohan to general approval. Emrys made sure to ride between Sirius and Theodred, not trusting the former not to somehow get the latter drunk. Again.
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