Chapter 3

"Here do I swear loyalty to Gondor. In peace or war, in living or dying, from this point forward, 'till m'lord release me, or death take me."

Boromir's words echoed in the Steward's Hall. Faramir watched in silence, bathing in pride.

"I welcome it," Denethor said, smiling. He walked down the steps. "Nor will I forget it." He placed his hand forward, and his son kissed the ring. The steward strapped the sheath for an heirloom dagger to the steward's son's belt, as was tradition. Denethor embraced Boromir, and the captains cheered.

Faramir clapped, wearing the livery his father had made for him with pride; a white tree was just the right adornment for this occasion. His brother was a soldier.

Boromir stood beside his father as the petition of the army was brought forward. The one speaking was Captain Ceredon, leader of the Gondor army. He would soon be replaced by Boromir, Faramir felt it in his gut.

"My lord," Ceredon greeted, bowing low.

When Denethor nodded, Ceredon began. "The harvest is coming in, but it not as bountiful as previous years. Our soldiers' salaries are not enough to keep sufficient food in stock. They must feed their families. We humbly ask, mighty Steward, for an increase in our soldier's pay so that their families may prosper."

"Tell me," Denethor coolly ordered, "do the soldiers not get paid the most of those in my service?"

"Well, yes m'lord…"

"You know the families of your men, don't you captain? How much food do their families have? Are their families fed three square meals a day? Is there enough food?"

"Well, yes m'lord…"

"Then I cannot possibly see the problem. The soldiers are paid the same salary as they have been for the past years while I have sat in this chair. If it is not good enough for them, then it would be better if they leave the army. Is that what they want?"

"No, my lord!"

"Then the matter is settled. You are excused."

Captain Ceredon fumed. He did leave the presence of the Steward, and Faramir, intrigued, followed him, knowing his father didn't care where he went.

Through endless, high corridors, small rooms, and places Faramir didn't even know exist, the captain unknowingly led the adolescent to his destination.

Faramir finally hid behind a beam, listening to the conversation.

"Captain, what did the Steward say?" one of the five soldiers asked.

"He said if we were to complain about our salary, then it would be better if we left the service."

"What?"

"I couldn't get a word in edgewise. The Steward is a stuck-up pig unfit to rule over this country!"

Faramir gaped. The soldiers thought this? How many more did?

"We need to do something about this!" the soldiers agreed in unison.

"But what can we do?"

"We've tried nearly all methods of persuasion!"

"We could talk to Denethor's son, Boromir!"

"You insolent fool! The man will just side with his snake of a father!"

Captain Ceredon tapped his foot. "The only thing that we are doing now is complaining. We're forgetting we need to get even with him. Remember that this is not the first time he's refused me money, a man his rightful pay for serving him unquestioningly for twenty years."

"What do you mean?" one of them asked.

"He's hurting your families, we need to hurt his."

"Meaning what?"

"There is only one way to hurt a father."

Faramir backed away silently in fear. He didn't know what was being planned, but he needed to tell someone. Now.

Denethor rummaged through his papers.

"My lord, Denethor?" a voice asked outside the door.

Denethor sulked. His youngest never ceased bothering him.

"Faramir, you know that you are supposed to be studying," he snapped. "Why are you bothering me?"

Faramir stuttered, "I-I overheard some of the soldiers talking-"

"You bothered them didn't you? I thought that I told you never to interrupt the soldiers in their business."

"I didn't-"

"And now you insist on bothering me!" Denethor stood, watching fear rise in his son's eyes. "You are a stupid child! Your brother wouldn't disturb me! Your brother would follow my wishes to the letter! Your brother can read!"

Faramir backpedalled, as if he were falling to the ground.

"Now, leave before I discipline you!" Denethor shouted. "Now!"

"Father, the soldiers want to-"

"Faramir!"

"The soldiers are planning-"

"Leave me now!" The whole palace could've heard Denethor, but he didn't care.

Faramir left the room, a tear sliding down his cheek.

Denethor huffed and sat back down. He was busy; he couldn't listen to the child now.