Flashbacks are in Italic.
Bíron POV
Bíron walks briskly through the city towards his barrack. He has more than enough to do. He has to check on his men for they need to be ready. Their equipment also needs to be ready. He has been looking after this for the past few days. And still, it is not up to his standards. Or it was not yesterday evening when he last checked. It feels as if a heavy stone rests on his shoulders. Everything needs to be ready for the host will leave soon. Now is the only time he has left to ensure everything is ready. He has a meeting with the captains to attend to which he expects to last for a few hours.
Entering the barracks, he narrows his eyes. They are playing games or laying on one of the cots. Do they have time to relax? He does not think so. Their armor lies on the floor. Their weapons lay discarded around. He scrapes his throat and his men jump up standing at attention.
"What do you think you are doing?"
"Uhm…"
A lead can be heard dropping in the following silence. The men shuffle around without speaking up. They glance at each other from time to time. After a few minutes of silence, no one responds to his question. He balls his fists and sighs.
"Well, do you have anything to say for yourselves?"
"No, captain, we do not. We apologize for our actions."
"You can apologize all you want. You did not answer my question? Did you or did you not finish the preparations?"
"We did not, captain."
He takes a deep breath. He knew this already but now has it confirmed. They did not follow his orders. If they do not work fast now they will never be ready in time when the host leaves. There is only one thing left which he can order.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Hurry up, the host will leave soon and you need to be ready. I do not want you to embarrass me in front of our lord."
"Yes, captain. We will be ready in time. You have our word."
"Make sure you keep your word. I will be meeting with the captains right now. And you all better be prepared before I get back here."
Without waiting for a response, he turns around and walks out of the barrack. Once outside, he takes a deep breath and clenches his fists a few times. His arms tremble due to the strength of his clenching. He unclenches his hands. His arms still tremble. He takes a few deep breaths and forces his body to relax.
Once the trembling in his arms has stopped, he silently makes his way up towards the citadel. While walking, his mind moves back towards his conversation with his men. He saw exactly what he had expected. His men acted the same. All he does now is hope the other captains have experienced the same problems as him.
Suddenly, his eyes focus on the door before him. The door is decorated with a carving of the white tree and sword. It tells him exactly where he is. As quietly as possible, he opens the door unwilling to disturb any conversation occurring on the other side. Closing the door behind him, he sees five men are gathered around a table quietly talking. As he approaches the table, all eyes turn to him.
"Ah, captain Bíron, good you could join us already. Did your men prepare themselves as expected?"
Captain Gonodor has a wry smile on his face. The others share his expression. He sighs. Just what he needs. But then a wry smile comes on his face. Have they gone through the same? He certainly hopes so. He carefully wipes any emotion from his face before responding.
"Unfortunately, no. They were playing games among other things when I went to check in on them."
"So all our men are the same. Why am I not surprised? But let us not dwell on our foolish men who we have to keep in check. We have enough to discuss as is."
Every captain nods. Bírion quickly reaches the table and sits down on the empty chair. For the next hour, they discuss plans for the march of the host as well as the defense of the city. Or well, plans for the defense? It are more like suggestions as Captain Faramir, the only absent captain, will have the final say in these matters.
Returning to his barrack afterward, he is met with a pleasant sight. The men have cleaned up the barrack. All their armor and weapons lay on their beds neatly arranged and polished to the best of their abilities. They only need to put it on now. Despite this, he is pleased with the progress they made. They are as ready as one can be for the host to march. He sighs in relief. He has not disappointed his lord.
Pelennor field, Aragorn POV
He looks at the armor laying in front of him. He has no idea what to make of this. Where Thor found it, he has no idea. He almost thinks it has been prepared for him years ago. He abandons it quickly convinced it must have been meant for someone else. This is the only one which calms him a bit. Only for him to frown again.
Why did Thor give it to him? To embarrass him? It must be. This armor is clearly meant for a high-ranked member of Gondor's army. If he has bad luck, it might give the impression he is of higher rank than Thor if he wears it. He would be the laughing stock of the year.
He shakes his head. He should not be thinking about this. He has to prepare to march out. It will not do anyone any good if he is not ready in time. He is aware everyone knows they will be marching under his banner. He narrows his eyes at this thought. No matter Thor's intentions, he will give the men the hope they need.
Picking up his shirt, he slowly begins to dress. Soon, he is strapping the armor on but experiences problems with it. He stretches his arm behind his back to secure his chest armor. He fumbles around for a moment but cannot get a good grip on the straps. He sighs.
"Estel, why did you not call for aid. I do want to aid you with putting your armor on. But if you want to do it yourself by all means I will let you."
"I did not want to disturb you, Dan. But if you are here and willing to aid, please do so."
Elladan laughs and moves forward. He can almost imagine Dan shaking his head. Working together they have him dressed in the armor in no time. Only then does he turn around. He raises an eyebrow at Dan's attire. He is dressed in the armor he usually wears when on potentially dangerous patrol.
"How did you get that armor here?"
"Oh well, I suspected something like this would happen so Ro and I hid our armor among our other gear. We did not want adar to find out we had taken it with us before we were well and truly gone. And before you asked, we aided each other in dressing. Ro is currently aiding Halon in putting his armor on. To his great amusement."
He lifts an eyebrow. What armor is Dan hinting at? Halon does not have any armor here any more than he himself did. And why does Dan look as if he is about to laugh? What is going on? He nearly groans but can hide it behind a couch. Dan snickers behind him.
"Oh, that armor was brought together with yours."
He shakes his head. But as he does so, Dan reaches for the straps of his chest armor. He stills allowing Dan to manipulate the straps. Together they have him dressed in no time. He turns around facing Dan who looks him over with a critical eye.
"You are dressed like a king, Estel."
He pouts for he does not want to be so obvious. This will only cause problems with Thor. Something he wants to avoid. Why does Dan have to rub it in? He must know the situation. His eyes narrow. Could Dan be messing with him? Maybe. Then he will have to ensure no to give him much ammunition. He takes a deep breath through his nose.
"Let us wait for the signal to march."
"Of course."
They sit down in comfortable silence. Aragorn listens carefully for the sign the host will march soon. He does not want to be in the open too soon with this armor on. He wants to avoid staring as long as he can. Nevertheless, he intends to be ready when the lords come down with Gondor's forces. He knows those forces are preparing themselves behind the wall. He has heard them assembling.
"Aragorn!"
"Estel, I apologize I could not hold him back any longer. He has something important to tell you."
"Thank you for trying, Ro."
He smiles calmly at Ro who looks at him with a tight smile. Then he turns his attention to Halon. Halon stands bouncing on the tips of his toes. He barely refrains from jumping up and down. It is not behavior corresponding to his age. It is almost as if Halon is a young boy and not the experienced captain he is. He sighs.
"Yes, Halon. What do you want to tell me?"
"I want to tell you about adar. I went to visit him yesterday evening but could not find you afterward."
"And how is Halbarad?"
Halon looks at the floor and bites his lips. Aragorn frowns for it does not add up with Halon's and earlier excitement. What is he missing? Has Halbarad's condition worsened? No, it cannot be. Halon would not have been excited then.
"Adar is doing better than last time I went to visit him. He has not woken up but his fever is not as high as it was. The wound, I am told, is healing well. The healer said adar is lucky to be alive. And we have to wait for him to wake up."
"Thank you, Halon. Did they say anything more about the wound?
"Well? Uhm…. it was infected, you know. But the infection seems to be lessening or something like that. Honestly, I am not sure what the healers told me exactly.."
"How are they treating it?"
"Why do you ask me? I do not know anything about healing except battlefield healing. And I already told you that I do not remember exactly what was being said."
"Anyway, thank you for informing me. I am afraid I did not have the time to visit Halbarad in the Houses or I would not have bothered you with those questions."
Just as he says this, a loud sound reaches his ears. It reaches around the city and the field. He recognizes it immediately; it is the sound of horns being blown. Hooves beating on stone can be heard getting louder. He nods knowing it is time to meet with Gondor's army.
"Halon, make sure the men are ready. We will march soon."
"Yes, Aragorn."
He nods again and together they leave the tent with Dan and Ro following. They walk quietly for a while before Halon leaves them. They continue heading towards the horses. Along the way, snickering can be heard. He wonders what his men find so funny.
Reaching the horses, he stops dead in his tracks. His eyes widen at what he sees. Next to his horse, a stable hand stands holding the reins. He takes a deep breath knowing who had his horse prepared this way. While this knowledge goes through his mind, he carefully looks at the decorations. A wry smile pulls on his face for a moment before being replaced by a frown. These decorations make no sense to him. Just like the armor he now wears. These decorations are similar to what he has seen whenever Ecthelion went into dangerous territories. Which was not often.
Does Thor know the stable hand did this? Was it done with his permission? No, impossible. And were it even remotely possible then it is still highly unlikely. Thor would never have approved of it. Never. The only explanation he has, is someone smuggled it out without informing Thor. This person or persons will either be incredibly lucky or unlucky. He suspects it will be the latter.
Just then his mind moves back to Halon's words. He knew Halbarad's wounds were severe; he treated them shortly after they were inflicted. He can still bring the image of the wounds to the front of his mind.
Deep cuts litter Halbarad's stomach and chest. Most have stopped bleeding. One cut has not for blood gushes from it without a moment of respite. A small pool of blood grows slowly behind Halbarad's head. Feeling the wound, his fingers brush over a bump.
He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. Blood drips into his eyes forcing him to close his eyes. He pulls on the sleeve of his shirt until the back of his hand is covered. This way, he frantically wipes the blood out of his eyes. He searches for cloth and nearly loses hope before he finds one. He presses it on the stomach wound.
He is fully aware Halbarad will not be traveling for some time. He will be stuck here in Gondor until then. And when that will be, only time will tell. It depends on the speed of Halbarad's recovery. Based on his own experiences he expects it to take a few months if not a full year. The last refers to the moment when he expects Halbarad to be fully recovered.
This thought has him realizing that Halbarad will need to make a living in Gondor for himself. Something he has to talk with Thor about. He hopes Thor will not give him much of a problem. He has his doubts about it. He bites his lips only thinking about the request.
Houses of healing, Minas Tirith, Denethor POV
Walking again into the houses of healing, Denethor hears the clinging of metal close to his ears. A bustling of activities occurs all around him. It is nearly a deafening sound up he pays it no mind; he has a destination in mind. Faramir needs to know about the decision from the last meeting.
He tilts his head considering the reaction he expects to receive from his son. He cannot in good faith believe Faramir will be pleased with the decision. He clenched his fists thinking about it. He has an idea of the argument he will receive. Faramir will deem joining the host his duty regardless of his injuries; he is the Captain-General and not the steward like his father.
So how will he convince Faramir to allow the switch in places? Or more likely, how will he stop Faramir from doing anything stupid. It will be a hard discussion. Of that he is certain. There are a few options, he considers. Only one stays with him long enough; Faramir's condition. It might be the only thing which convinces Faramir.
Stopping in front of a well-known door, he takes a deep breath. It will now be the moment of truth. Quietly opening the door, he silently slips into the room. The only sound which greets him is the sound of breathing and the blowing of the wind. Closing the door, his eyes fall on a frowning Faramir who lifts himself upright on his elbow.
"Father, why are you wearing your armor? Has something happened?"
"Nothing has happened, Faramir. Or at least not yet. I am here to inform you I will be joining the host as we set out to Morannen. While I am away you will be acting steward. I have left the orders behind."