Houses of healing, Minas Tirith, Faramir POV
As he approaches his father's office, Faramir smiles to himself. It was another pleasant breakfast with Éowyn just as he expected. It has left him in a good mood. They managed to talk about their respective families. It has allowed him to learn more about her background. Maybe he should write Lady Morwen a letter to inform her about her grandchildren's presence here in Gondor. However, for that, he first needs to find her current location. Most likely somewhere in Lossarnach but he does not know where exactly. Something to do if Éowyn is willing to meet her grandmother. But it is not the best part. That was learning about her dreams for the future. He will do all he can to see them come true.
A door opens in the background. He looks up to see the door closing. A man in green ranger garb stands before the door with his hood still up. He frowns. This man could not have been here for long. He walks towards the man. Just as he nears him the man turns around. He stops dead in his tracks as they stare at each other. Faramir with surprise while the person before him looks at him with wide eyes. It is like a deer looking into the eyes of a hunter. He looks the man over and takes in the state of his green and brown clothing. It is smeared with the dust of the road. On his trousers, mud can even be seen. As well as on his brown cloak. His eyes turn towards the man's head. Long dark hair and a small beard greet him. A name springs to his mind almost immediately but before he can say anything the man speaks up.
"Captain, I apologize."
"It is no problem, Damrod. Why are you here?"
"Just delivering a letter from your father."
"What letter?"
"The one on the desk. Lord Denethor made it sound as if the letter is extremely important though he did not elaborate further."
"Mhh, I might have some ideas."
"Does it have to do with the heir of Elendil?"
"Maybe. Why do you ask?"
"We all saw how good of a leader he is. I know some of my fellow rangers have experienced his healing hands. They all want to see him become king so long as you do not lose your position."
"I would not have minded too much."
"Of course not, captain. Of course not."
Damrod shakes his head while a smile graces his face. He scowls. He understands what Damrod means but still does not appreciate being mocked. As such, he decides to change the topic of their conversation.
"So the men are recovering?"
"Yes, I believe so."
"You believe?"
"Well, I have not talked with them all but those who I talked with were not badly injured and recovering. They told me everyone was recovering."
"That is good to know. How many did you lose?"
"I do not have the exact numbers but our losses were severe. Just not as severe as would have been had Mordor not fallen. Of that I am certain but you should ask your father that because I am also certain that he will know this."
"I am sure and I will talk with my father about it."
"Will you tell me what he tells you?"
"Maybe if it concerns you. Otherwise, I will not. So where are you camped?"
"At first near the Dagorlad but later we were moved to the fields of Cormallen."
"A place you know well."
"That I do, captain. I have been scouting out the area with rangers even those from the north."
"And were they good?"
"Oh, definitely. They do not know the lay of this land but that is normal. Nevertheless, they were skilled at tracking and scouting."
"And good as you and your men are?"
He smiles teasingly. He knows they must be good or else they would not have kept the north as safe as they have. Especially, as he learned they do not have as many rangers as he does here in Gondor. And also because they have a lot of lands to cover. It would be impossible to keep if safe if one is not skilled. Damrod looks at him with a frown.
"Maybe or maybe not. I will not make a judgment about it."
"Really?"
"Yes…well, I will admit I was impressed but that was all."
"I am sure that was all. Do you need to return soon, Damrod?"
"Not unless you wish to have a letter sent to Lord Denethor. He told me to not let anyone but me deliver letters."
"Did he now?"
"You doubt me, captain?"
"Maybe, I do. I know you."
Damrod looks at him with raised eyebrows. He raises his own in return, not at all impressed. Nevertheless, he has to struggle to keep a smile off his face. It takes a while before Damrod looks to the ceiling but does not yet leave. He sighs.
"Damrod, go to one of the barracks and take some rest. If you are not returning then I am sure the captains can find you something to do here."
"Of course, captain."
Damrod nods and moves past him. Faramir remains standing for a moment and watches him leave. Then he steps into his father's office and moves immediately towards the desk where he looks for the letter. It does not take him long before he finds it. The envelope lies right in the middle of his desk on top of a stack of papers and other envelopes. It is not hidden in any way. His father's handwriting springs from it.
He walks around the desk and sits down on the chair. Picking up the envelope, he feels it scraping between his fingers. His fingers bump unto the wax seal. He presses his thumbs on the seal and pushes. A soft crack sounds in the room. He opens the envelope and pulls the letter out. Unfurling the letter, he feels it scraping through his fingers. Once it is fully unfurled, he reads the letter.
Leaning back a few minutes later, he looks at the ceiling. The words of the letter are already engraved into his mind. It is in certain aspects quite vague which means - if he knows his father well - there might be a hidden meaning behind the words. Closing his eyes, he thinks about the possible hidden meanings. He knows he can figure it out, else father would not have put it in.
As he thinks about it, he is not entirely sure about the actual meaning. Some words can be explained in a couple of ways. It could mean a claim has been made or will be made in a short time. Also, some words reflect his father's view. It could be he wants things to be arranged so the claim is successful or to be reserved about it. So what to do? He has to make a decision soon, he knows that. If he is to prepare for the arrival of the king then he needs to make the final preparations they discussed before the host left soon.
The door opens in the background. He ignores it as he is too focused on the content of the letter. His mind moves over everything he needs to decide on as well as the consequences of each possible decision. Anything he considers brings multiple different matters to the front of his thoughts. It does not allow him to make much progress.
"Mhh. This is interesting."
The voice brings his attention away from his thoughts and back to the room. Tegeldir stands before his desk with a letter in his hands. He frowns and looks at the desk. His father's letter is missing. He sees it instantly. He glances at Tegeldir once more hoping he is wrong. However, Tegeldir seems to be solely focused on the letter so he scrapes his throat. At this, Tegeldir jumps.
"My lord!"
Tegeldir looks at him with wide eyes but also with confusion. He lifts an eyebrow and waits for Tegeldir to speak up. He wants to use the time for his thoughts but also knows he is more than likely to miss the response. It takes quite some time but still no words directed to him come from Tegeldir. He sighs when he hears some mumbling.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing, my lord."
"Truly, I did hear you say something but cannot remember what."
"Oh, it is nothing you need to concern yourself with."
"If you say so. What letter do you have there."
"Just one from the desk, I wanted to see if there is anything in it I need to know."
"Not the letter my father sent me by any chance. It seems to be missing."
"Maybe. I am not sure."
Tegeldir shuffles slightly before him. No other reaction comes from him. Faramir has to praise him because it is not noticeable. Nevertheless, the answer he received was what he needed. He sighs again.
"Put it back on the desk. I do not believe my father would have accepted this behavior from you. Or anyone for that matter. And Tegeldir, you would have been told if there is anything in it you need to know."
"Yes, my lord."
Tegeldir puts the letter on the desk and steps back. Tegeldir searches his eyes for a moment before smiling uneasily. Then Tegeldir bows and turns around. As Tegeldir nears the door, Faramir speaks up.
"Tegeldir, you better keep what you read to yourself."
"Yes, my lord."
Tegeldir nods and then steps out of the room. Faramir can see a few scribes standing outside the room. Before the door closes, he can see them moving towards Tegeldir. Thus, he waits a moment before sighing. It is only a matter of time before the word spreads. No matter Tegeldir's assurances. All he can do is to try and contain it for the time being. Even though he does not have much confidence he will succeed. He needs to inform his father about this development. It will mean Damrod needs to return to the camp soon. But first, he needs to determine what he needs to do.\
Leaning back in the chair, he looks at the ceiling. It is quite an easy decision to make because there is not much choice anymore. He needs to start the preparations his father discussed with him. Those which would only be needed to make after a victory. And it is the best excuse he has for now in case he is questioned. For some though, he needs to be careful with whom to give them to. Having decided this, he picks up a quill and begins to write a letter back.
Field of Cormallen, Denethor POV
Walking around the field, he looks around. Men are feasting in every corner. Ever since the Ringbearers woke up yesterday, the mood has been extremely elated. Everything looks sunny now. Even he can see it. A new age approaches and they will be restored to their former glory once Gil ascends the throne. He smiles and shakes his head as he catches himself getting caught up in this mood. He does not want to attend but knows he needs to show his face. Even if it is for a short moment. Then he can get back to what he needs to do urgently.
"My lord, drink something."
He turns his head towards the man who called him as his lips thin at the sight before him. One man is leaning slightly against another as he holds out a cup. A wide smile is on his face. He shakes his head as he takes the cup. He cannot leave right now. Sipping slowly, he tasted something he knows extremely well; wine. At the same time, he looks the men over and glances at their companions who are observing things in the background. Their amusement is badly hidden. He tilts his head before speaking up.
"You seem to be enjoying yourself."
"Yes, my lord. It is a good time for Gondor. Mordor is finally gone and our saviors are awake. It could not be much better."
"A good time indeed."
"Not much better? How much better do you think it will be once we have a king once more."
"Mhhh, a lot better. I cannot wait to tell my beloved about all of this. Hopefully, her father will finally allow us to marry. I cannot wait."
"Then write her a letter."
"I will once I am finally able to get some paper. You seem to be happy too, my lord."
He turns towards the men more fully. For the past few minutes, he has been observing their easy banter. It reminds him of how he and Gil could act in the past. And how they have been able to act a few times currently. Hopefully, they will reach this easy bantering soon enough. In comparison to earlier, they have come far. He notices how the men begin to look at him in concern.
"My lord?"
"Yes, I am also happy."
"About what?"
"You will know soon enough."
"Ahh, is there nothing you can tell us?"
The man looks at him with a lopsided smile. He frowns. It is almost as if this man is completely drunk or extremely affected by the current mood. It does not belong on their faces. Or the face of any soldier to be honest. He turns his eyes to the other man who smiles uneasily. It is almost apologetic. He tilts his head again.
"How much have you been drinking?"
"Not much. A few cups."
"A few. I am certain you have in total drunk an entire bottle of wine and more strong spirits. I do not know which, my lord, but he has drunk more than enough."
"Thank you for telling me. Keep an eye on him."
"I will."
He nods to the man before the man turns around and drags his drunk friend with him. He shakes his head as a smile grows on his face; this man needs to be watched but will be unable to do much tomorrow. He will be too hungover then. It will serve as a good lesson for the future. Hopefully.
He turns his head in the direction where the feasting continues. Drinks and bottles are passed around. As well as a few bowls. Whatever is in it, he cannot tell. While listening, he hears the men singing songs which are highly familiar to him. A soft smile grows on his face remembering how he sang them when he was younger. It is something which he tries to forget. A young man drags one of the camp followers who is barely able to stand with him. He frowns and wonders what they will do. It better not be something anyone will regret.
"Uncle, join us!"
His eyes turn back to the feasting and trail over the group before finally landing on Elphir. Elphir has raised a cup towards him and smiles brightly. The men around Elphir stare at him. Some are amusing while others are suspicious or worried. He quickly glances around and sees Imrahil is nowhere to be found. This explains Elphir's behavior.
"Uncle?"
He shakes his head and moves closer to the group. He can spend some time with them and learn how they are doing. Even if all he wants to do is leave. But hopefully, they can tell him something the other two have not told him. A bottle is passed to him and he fills his cup up. Sipping for a moment, he listens to the restarted conversation for a moment. It starts docile but quickly turns back to what it was earlier. It does not take long before he joins in. Despite the drinking, these men do not appear to be drunk or anything. They are merely enjoying a good time while slowly sipping their drinks.
"So, you think we will have a king in the future?"
"Who knows. At least a claimant came forward. Now it is just a matter of time before a claim is truly made."
"And for the Council to decide it, agrr. I hope the claim is accepted. I think a king would be a good thing to have. No offense to your Uncle, Elphir…or to you, my lord."
Denethor smiles at the comment. This young man - whose name he still does not know - voices his opinion. Hopefully, others will agree with him. Based on the nods going around the group, they at least agree. Now he has to wait for everyone else to voice theirs. In the last few sentences, Elphir turns to him with a worried look in his eyes while biting his lips. He smiles calmly before turning back to the man.
"None taken."
A sigh goes around the group while silence grows. It does not last long because the conversation starts all over. Only this time, the men discuss what life under a king would be. A lot of wild theories are thrown around. It is as if they become confident they are allowed to talk about everything. He only pays attention to it for a short moment before shutting it out. Then, he allows his mind to go over all the lords who will attend the Council and how to handle those he expects to make a problem. His mind is so preoccupied he does not hear what goes on around him.
"My lord Denethor, may I have a moment of your time?"
The voice pulls him from his thoughts. He turns around and sees Gil standing before him with a smile on his face. He frowns before turning to the group as silence reigns around him. Everyone looks at him curiously. His eyes land on Ephir who looks apprehensive. He maintains eye contact between them for a moment. Then he turns back to Gil who looks at him questionably. He nods to Gil and stands up.
"Of course, you may. What is the matter?"
"I wanted to introduce you to a few people."
"And I am certain they have not come with you?"
He shakes his head while smiling. Gil laughs and he looks around for a bit. No one in the area seems to be moving towards them even though everyone seems highly focused on them. It confirms his belief. Gil does not take long before responding.
"No, they are somewhere else. If you could follow me then I will guide you to them."
"In that case, lead the way."
Gil nods and turns around. He places the cup on the ground before standing up. Once he stands he follows Gil as they leave the group. Steadily they move further into the camp. He notices how Gil seems to be steering them to a specific part of the camp. One he knows full well. Just as he realizes this, Gil speaks up.
"So, are you looking forward to returning to the city?"
"Of course, there is much work I need to do."
"Can Faramir not do that?"
"He can do that and I am certain he is already making preparations. I just want to overlook some things by myself. Why do you ask? Do you want me to stay close to you?"
"No, I was just wondering. And I can understand that but is that the only reason?"
He laughs and shakes his head. He knew he could not keep it fully from Gil. Why did he even try or think to try? He has no idea. Gil looks at him expectedly. He smiles before shaking his head once more. Only then does he answer the question.
"No, you are right. It is not the only reason. There are some things I need to do and for which I need my son. For example. We need to prepare to deal with the Council. I am certain some lords will oppose your claim with everything they got."
"And you need to figure out how to handle them. It always helps to have someone to spar with about those things."
"Yes, it helps a lot. Faramir knows them well enough to predict them."
"So, he is good with matters of state."
"Yes, he is."
"Thor, I heard you will only take a small group with you."
"I am. Why do you ask?"
"Can I convince you to take some of the walking wounded with you?"
"If they do not slow me down then they can come with me but otherwise they cannot. Make sure you take that into account when you select them. You will be selecting them, right?"
"I plan on doing so. And I will take it into account. But truthfully, I would not have selected them if I did not think they could handle it even without you mentioning it."
He nods as his mind moves to something else they can do. Maybe they can arrange to move more of the wounded to Minas Tirith. It would ease the burden on this camp but also speed up the progress with the Council. They would surely make travel back earlier if the camp slowly empties. However, it should not be done too soon. He needs enough time to prepare.
"We could use this opportunity to move some of the wounded out of this camp, Gil."
"Maybe but the Houses are also full. I do not think they would appreciate it if they get more patients to care for than they can."
"Mhh."
He nods. He needs to look into this once he is in the city. And find Master Nestor. Together they can decide how many can be moved which allows Gil to decide on which ones to move first. He sighs. Another thing to do for him. On top of everything else.
"I will talk with Master Nestor about it once I am back in the city."
"Then let me know once you two came to a decision."
"I will."
He feels a wry smile tugging on his lips. Gil also smiles wryly while nodding once more before turning his head towards what is in front of them. Gil moves his head around a bit as if searching. For what or whom? The people he wants him to meet? Maybe if they have reached their location already. He turns to look at their location and his eyes immediately fall on the elves and a dwarf sitting around a fire talking animatedly. A group of northern Dúnedain sits around another fire doing the same.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees someone else besides the elves and dwarfs sitting around the first fire; Periannath. More than the two he is already familiar with. He tilts his head. Where has he seen them before? His eyes widen. Of course, he saw them when they were brought to camp barely alive by the Eagles. Are these the people Gil wants to introduce him to? His head turns towards Gil. Gil is looking straight at those two Periannath. As if feeling his eyes on him, Gil turns around a small smile tugging on his lips. A fond look is in his eyes.
"Thor, I would like to introduce you to Frodo and Sam. You have of course seen them when they first arrived at our camp near Dagorlad. But you have not yet had the honor of being able to talk with them."
He looks at the two Periannath in front of him more closely. A dark-haired Periannath sits next to one with lighter hair. They look painfully thin. He frowns. Did he not notice it before? He is not sure but knows when they arrived they must have been thinner. The food they have received cannot have cured it better. But they could not have become so thin here on this camp where reasonably good food is available. And besides, the wounded always get the better pieces of food. The healthy men have to do with what is left.
Gil moves forward. He quickly follows him. It will not do him any good if he loses sight of Gil now. On their approach, the Periannath lookup. One with annoyment and the other with interest. Their closeness allows him to see how one of the Periannath has been preparing some food. Most likely the cause of the annoyment if this Periannath is anything like his cooks. As Gil does not speak up, he decided to do it for him.
"Sam, Frodo, it is good to meet you."
"You too, Lord Denethor. I was unaware you and Aragorn knew each other."
"We have met in the distant past, …."
"My name is Frodo. May I know how you did meet each other?"
"We met when Gil came here as a sellsword."
He glances at Sam - the other Periannarh - who has stayed silent so far. He seems to be focused on some sort of soup while the other two Periannath continually try to sneak something in. They do not have much success as Sam catches them at all times and berates them. At times, a spoon strikes their hands. He smiles when the next attempt is caught and immediately berated. A strike off the spoon resounds around him together with a yelp.
"Really? I did not know he was a sellsword. No one ever said anything about it. Was he good at it?"
"Yes, he was a good soldier and leader. I admit we did not get along immediately."
"You did not? What changed?"
"When he saved my life while I was testing his loyalty. At least I was no longer antagonistic towards him even if we were not yet friends. It took a few months more before a friendship occurred."
"Why did you feel the need to test his loyalty?"
He hears snickering around him and looks up. The sons of Elrond seem to be laughing. Whether they are mocking him or laughing at something else, he has no idea. Nevertheless, he notices how the attention of the entire group is on him. He grinds his teeth. He does not understand why they are interested in this conversation. It is nothing special. He sighs before speaking up.
"I had had troubles in the past with sellswords who left if they no longer got what they wanted. Or some who were prone to abandon us if they were offered better payment. I still do not know why it surprised me then; it is in their nature."
"And Aragorn did not show that nature?"
"No, he made it more than clear that he was loyal to Gondor even though he was a sellsword. It was a strange contradiction at that time."
"I am sure it was."
He shares a small smile with Frodo while ignoring everyone around him. Their presence as well as their questions and conversations. Silence falls between them only to be broken when a new voice reaches his ears.
"Would you like some of the soup I made?"
"Should you be doing that, Sam?"
"Well, they do not make good soup here in this camp. Someone has to ensure you get the food you need, mister Frodo."
"And you as well, Sam. We both need to make use of it while we have the chance but we also need to rest."
"I get more than enough rest here."
"And you got anxious to do something yourself."
"Yes, my lord."
"Well, in that case, I would be more than honored to taste your soup."
"Thank you. I am sure you will enjoy it as I have been told that it is something entirely different from what is considered soup here."
Within moments, a bowl is offered to him. And almost immediately a spicy tomato scent reaches his nose. He looks down and sees a piece of bread is placed on top of the bowl. The heat of the soup escapes around the bread but the most is halted by it. He picks up the bread before it softens too much. Then he looks up with confusion.
He would have expected the bread to be offered separately but not with it. No one seems to notice his stare as everyone is busy eating. He watches as Sam and Frodo have the same meal in front of them. They dip the bread in the soup before eating it. He shrugs and follows their example and dips the bread in the soup. The bread tastes fresh; more than it should be. The soup itself is spicy and filled with a lot of different ingredients. He tastes carrots and a lot of other vegetables. It is as Sam said; this is different from anything he has had before. There is a greater variety of vegetables used than he is used to. And there seem to be more tomatoes used in the soup based on how spicy the soup is.
"Have you made this bread yourself, Sam?"
"Why, yes, my lord. The bread I could find was too old to be used with this soup. So, I made some myself."
"Then I must congratulate you because it could not have been easy."
"It wasn't but I liked the challenge and as you could taste, I succeeded."
"That you did."
He glances to the side and sees Imrahil together with many others standing in the distance staring at him. He barely managed to refrain from ducking his head. He knows what he told Imrahil. It makes his presence here all the more surprising. He is just as surprised no questions are asked of him. Or is it a matter of time? Well, only time will tell. But as for this feast, he admits silently to himself it still does feel comfortable to him. More than he thought it would. These kinds of feasts in comparison to those celebrated at court never felt comfortable to him.
"Is everything alright, my lord?"
"Why, yes. Everything is fine, Frodo. There is nothing to worry about."
"If it were me then this would mean the exact opposite. If you will forgive my impertinence."
"Already forgiven, Frodo. And between us, you might be right."
The last words he whispers as he does not want anyone else to hear them. Frodo gives him an acknowledging look. As if he understands his feelings. It is confirmed by Frodo's text whispered words.
"Then you might want to know the same counts for me."
He smiles. This knowledge makes the remainder of the feast much more enjoyable. He is not alone in his feelings. They manage to talk a lot more between them. About a variety of subjects some of which he knows nothing about. Sam is also a pleasure to have around as his friendliness eases a lot of tension he did not know he possessed.
Looking at the sky for a moment, he determines he has spent enough time here. More than enough. It is now an acceptable time to leave without anyone asking any questions considering he needs to leave early in the morning. Hopefully, in the meantime, Gil has found the men who will travel with him. He will not wait for them if they are not ready on time. They will then be left behind. No exceptions.
"If you would excuse me, I need to leave now."
"Of course, is it because of your upcoming travels to Minas Tirith?"
"Yes, where have you heard about it?"
"When Aragorn was meeting with some of his kin. Someone wanted to send a letter to the city."
"Really, who wanted to?"
"I do not know. Not do I know what decision was made."
"Mhh, I am sure I will hear about it later. But you should know I plan to leave early."
He has some idea who Frodo is talking about. He just hopes he is wrong. But as he said, he will hear about it later. If a letter will be sent with his party then Gil will seek him out before he leaves. As he said, he has to wait.
He does not like it. He shakes his head and turns back to Frodo who looks at him questionably. He smiles.
"Then I hope you have a good rest. Good night, my lord."
"Good night, Frodo, Sam."
"Sleep well, my lord."
He nods to both Periannath and smiles once more before turning around and leaving the group. He walks back to his tent while ignoring everyone around him. He needs to rest if he is going to be able to manage the trip to the city in the morning. As such, he reaches his tent within moments and quickly prepares himself to sleep. He is thankful one of the servants already left a bowl of water in his tent. He washed his face and hands before chaining. Soon enough, he sits on the field bed and looks at the ceiling.
He sighs before lying down. His mind is not calm enough at this moment for him to be able to rest. It is too occupied by the events of the last few hours. His mind moves all the time back to the Ringbearers and their interesting conversations. He was and still is highly intrigued by them as they are humble despite their current status. Neither acts like he knows most of the lords would do in such a situation. Also, they are kind and enjoyable people. He could have spent more time with them and would have, were he not to leave tomorrow morning.
He closes his eyes. He regrets having to leave so early. He would have liked to get to know them better but it will have to wait. He will get to know them better. Once he has the time. A smile grows on his face but disappears quickly as he becomes aware of something; their wariness. They were initially quite wary of him but good at hiding it. It did not fully leave them but became less the longer they talked.
He shakes his head. He has no idea where this comes from. No idea? He snorts. He can imagine something being the cause; their quest. Something he only learned about recently. He knows what orders he had given regarding the One ring. It turns his mind to Boromir. He is glad they know Boromir had such good company on this foolish but also necessary quest. He does not like it but knows it was the only way to deal with Sauron once and for all.
All of this makes their kindness even more surprising and amendable. He would have expected it to be much less than it is at this time. They must have encountered a lot of danger during their travel. It makes it obvious why Gil likes them so much and also gets along with them so well. But as for tomorrow, he will leave for Minas Tirith just as he agreed with him. He will take the walking wounded with him. And that letter should it be sent.