Chapter 7

Denethor looked outside across his balcony. The moon was full and the stars shone brightly. It had been hours since Faramir disappeared. He originally thought his son's absence to be a prank, revenge for ignoring his visit, but now, he began to take the proof of his son's kidnapping seriously. The livery had no note on it, but no one had seen his son for nearly the past twelve hours, dinner being the sixth. Where could he be?

"Father," Boromir breathed as he entered.

Denethor turned and gaped. He had never seen his oldest like this. "Boromir? Have you been crying?"

Boromir brushed his cheek, as if that alone proved his manliness. "We were not able to find him through the search."

Denethor glared at the suspicious guard at the door, but looking closer, he knew he wasn't a guard. It was Captain Ceredon.

"Captain, what are you doing just standing there?"

The captain made no response.

Denethor fumed. "All servants leave us! Go and search! Leave no stone unturned, no person unquestioned! None in the city will rest until I see Faramir in my presence, alive and unharmed!"

The captain bowed, no words spoken.

The doors were shut.

Boromir saw his father lean on the fence of the balcony. His father stared into the great buildings of the city. "Father?"

Boromir silently stood by his father, watching his unmoving face. If Denethor didn't show emotion on the outside, he was feeling it on the inside.

"He tried to warn me, Boromir."

"What?"

"He came to me, while I was doing my work, told me…tried to tell me what was happening. He knew they were going to take him. I didn't listen to him. If you'd seen his face you'd have listened. It was fearful. He was so scared. Now, because I didn't listen, I'm plagued with worry. Boromir, you were right."

Boromir placed his hand around his father's shoulders. "I know you love him, Father."

Denethor tore away from his son's embrace. "They want ransom. We will give them ransom. Fill a bag with grain. I will place it in the crack of the wall. When they bring Faramir out, take your bow and shoot all that hold him captive. He will be returned to us."

"These kidnappers are not stupid, Father. They will know it's a trap!"

"We will try nonetheless."

"They won't fall for it, Father!" Boromir yelled. "They are smart enough so that even the captain does not know where he is! They might've taken him to the nearby farms or to Osgiliath…"

Boromir stopped, breathing hard, cursing himself under his breath. He pulled his hair, stomped around the throne room. He growled at himself.

"Boromir, what on earth is the matter with you?"

Boromir screamed, "I let him slip underneath my very nose! He's in Osgiliath! He was in the crate! How could I have been such a stupid fool! How could I have let him down and left him to the soldiers…its' the soldiers, they have him! They must've been angry about…" Boromir turned to his Father. If he'd been a dragon, the room would be up in flames. "Father how could you be so blind? Give them the money, you fool!"

Boromir fled out of the room with no explanation.

"Blind? Fool!" Denethor exclaimed. He rushed after his son, but he stopped when he saw a visitor. He knew he was coming, but this man wasn't famous for being on time. He arrived when he saw fit.

"Mithrandir."

"Denethor, son of Ecthelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor," the rough voice of Gandalf the Grey greeted. "Things seem to be rather unusual around here."

Denethor shook. The presence of Gandalf alone made him angry. "Do not tell me that you have entered this city and have not heard of the panic that's arisen among my family."

Gandalf saddened. "Yes, I know. It is a horrible turn of events. How do you propose in finding him?"

"That, wizard, is none of your business. This is a family affair."

"Why, I've known Faramir since he was a child. I have grown rather fond of the boy." Gandalf's dark eyebrows twitched. "I would be of much use to you."

Denethor exploded. "Leave wizard! You are of no help here!" the Steward stomped off, hurt by Gandalf's offer of help, especially since he could read those eyes. Gandalf was insulting Denethor, putting him in his place. The wizard knew that Faramir's kidnapping was indirectly his father's fault. Boromir had called him blind, a fool even. His own son was turning against him. No one believed that he would help Faramir. He would, but he would do it his own way.

Faramir was relieved when his captors took off the blindfold. They had entered Osgiliath nearly an hour ago, but they had now placed him in a dark room, a torch the only source of light.

Faramir was dead tired. He could've closed his eyes and slept right there, but he was looking at his two kidnappers.

"We took this from Denethor? When you told me that you were kidnapping a son to teach Denethor a lesson, I thought you would've had enough sense to kidnap the older one."

"Boromir was inducted just this morning; he was in someone else's sight the whole day! We thought we could get ransom from this one, but obviously not."

Faramir looked down, ashamed that the whole palace staff knew his unworthiness.

"Besides, the little mouse overheard our planning. He would've warned his Father."

"So, what do we do with the child now?"

Faramir glanced up, fear filling his eyes. He couldn't move, even if he could, he wouldn't dare escape.

"We keep him in the attic of this house. No civilians should see them. The four of us besides the Cook and the captain in Minas Tirith know where the mouse is. If we leave him alone here, I don't think he'll make much noise. Until the captain tells us to continue, we stay put and stay low. Leave him."

The two soldiers left Faramir there. He wrestled more with the ropes, feeling the fragile skin of his wrists form blisters. He was thankful that they had left the blindfold off, but there wasn't much room for hope. The gag was still in his mouth. It tasted awful with each dreary, passing minute. His stomach called for food, but he didn't think he would receive any, even if he was promised food.

He was proven wrong when a soldier, a different one, entered the attic from the small door. He carried a morsel of bread and a wedge of sausage.

"It's about time you eat," he said, his beard shaking. "I'll take the gag off, but don't scream. No one's going to help you here."

Faramir looked down. That meant Boromir didn't know that he was in Osgiliath. The man's three fingers slid between the cloth and Faramir's cheek and tore it gently out of his mouth. Faramir kept his unspoken promise and didn't scream. He was too consumed with the thought of eating to think about help.

He gnawed at the bread the soldier held in his hand, swallowing it nearly whole. The sausage he took a little more time with because his stomach hurt. When he swallowed the last third of the sausage, he heaved, "Thank you."

The soldier smiled a small grin, and talked while he fastened Faramir's gag. "You're a good boy, Faramir. You're not a soldier, but you're a good boy. Now, be a good boy until your father pays for you, and stay quiet." He left.

Faramir rested his head against the wall. He wiggled his fingers, trying to reach the knot of the bind, but he couldn't reach it.

He brought his knees to his chest, and forcing pressure upward, tried to scratch his back along the wall, to stand up. Maybe if he could see out of the window above him, he could gather his bearings.

He continued the futile escape plan for about an hour. Then, he heard murmurs outside.

He had thought about it. He needed the other one. He had made his decision. This first plan was taking him nowhere. He needed to improvise. And improvise, he would.

Ceredon, with a new plan in motion, went to find his intended victim.