Chapter Ten – Plotting

The beating, though painful, had not hurt Faramir as badly as he had feared. The two Uruk-Hai had the power and the strength to damage him far more severely. Instead, it seemed to him that they had withheld their full strength and hit him mainly in areas that were not vital, such as his arms, shoulders and legs. So it was with some disbelief, but far more relief that he survived the pounding. He was then bound hand and foot and thrown into the corner of the room.

He lay there quietly, making what examination he could of his wounds. He was almost certain that no bones had been broken; the injury was to his pride rather than his body. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. The stone floor was cold, his arms were tied behind his back and the grubby gag was still in his mouth but he was too weary for any of these discomforts to matter. As a Ranger he had learned quickly to take what sleep was offered whenever the opportunity arose and so within minutes he was snoring softly as if in his own bed in Ithilien.

He did not sleep for long but it was enough to refresh him a little. He was woken by an orc, shaking him with little gentleness. The orc, however, went on to remove his gag and lift a bottle to his lips. The cold water was wonderful as it streamed into his dry mouth and throat. He resisted the urge to gulp down too much, too quickly and the orc seemed prepared to let him take his time. After he had his fill, the orc produced a piece of black bread. He broke some off and feed it to Faramir, who ate it greedily.

Without a word the orc left the room, when the bread was gone.

Faramir sighed deeply. He felt more comfortable physically than he had since he had entered Mordor, if one overlooked the unpleasantness of being hobbled like a goat. However, he had much to ponder and that made him uneasy because that was precisely what Saruman had instructed him to do. He feared that in thinking this through he was falling into a trap that the wizard had skilfully prepared for him and he wondered whether he had the intellect to outwit his enemy, particularly because Saruman was so sure of himself. But Faramir reasoned that, as a bound captive in the wizard’s tower, surrounded by dozens or more orcs and Uruk-Hai, his mind was his best resource. Actually, he realised angrily, it was his only resource.

He had defiantly held his ground when confronted by the wizard and he would do so again, but alone and with only his own thoughts, he allowed himself to recognise that he did not have such confidence in his position.

Much of the wizard’s accusations were true. Faramir had acted impulsively when he decided to confront Saruman.  Once he had made the decision, he had not taken enough time to consider a strategy that could counter the wizard who had once been Mithrandir's superior and captor.  He had given no thought to what would happen when he actually confronted Saruman, instead, he had convinced himself that he would ambush the wizard and defeat him with the strength of his resolve.  Fool! Faramir thought that Denethor would surely have something critical to say about his son's strategy; and this time his father would have been justified.  All Faramir had accomplished by his ride into Mordor was the death of a brave man, poor Beregond.  And he had exposed his King to an unacceptable risk. What could he have been thinking?  Had he been thinking at all?  Or was Saruman telling the truth?  Had the wizard merely called him and Faramir had run to him like a witless puppy?"

He stopped the thought; that was a path he would not allow himself to go any further down, for he knew Saruman was waiting for him at its end.

Instead he turned his mind to the King. He had known that Aragorn would try to save him. He had sent Eowyn away to find help, as well as to remove her from imminent danger.  Eowyn was a formidable fighter, some would say better than her husband, but she was the mother of his children and he would keep her from danger whenever possible. But he had not thought that the King could bring a force here to Barad-Dur in so short a time.  He needed to conceive some plan, some stratagem, before the King's arrival, but Saruman had said that Aragorn neared the tower.  Was it true?

Faramir closed his eyes. His mind was in turmoil. He needed time to think this through and he knew that time was something that he did not have. As if to confirm his thought the door to the room opened with a bang.

Saruman entered with Wormtongue at his heels. Faramir was hauled to his feet by the accompanying Uruk-Hai and thrown into the seat he had occupied before.

Saruman sighed deeply. “So, Lord Faramir,” he said. “Now we come to it indeed. I have given you the chance to ponder on what I said. It is time for you to make your decision.” He paused for effect. “I have been here for years, raising up a mighty army. And soon I shall unleash my forces on all my enemies. “

“I see no mighty armed forces here,” Faramir argued. “Where are they housed? How do you feed them? The deer that I saw your orcs drag back here would not suffice to feed a squadron, let alone an army.”

Saruman beamed. “You should not take things at face value, boy. I am a sorcerer, a master of illusion, remember that. The deer was a deception for your benefit. I knew you watched and I wanted you to believe that there were few of us here. I needed you to remain unaware of my true strength.”

“Then where is it?” Faramir pressed; already he could feel himself growing tired of Saruman’s constant condescension.

“I scouted Barad Dur many years ago. It was an ideal location for me. It had all the building materials I needed and it had something else that none of you ever realised. Sauron was a wily old campaigner and he left much here that was of use to me. Under the earth of Mordor he built a series of mines and caverns that would dwarf Moria; caverns big enough to hide an army; my army.”

“I don’t believe you,” Faramir said flatly. “Gondor would have known.”

“You have such complete and utter trust in your King, do you not Faramir?” the wizard shook his head. “It would be touching, if it were not so misplaced. He will fail, you know. He may be of Isildur’s line but he is not fit to rule. Why do you think it took him so long to claim his birthright? By nature, he was always a Ranger, never a King.  He delayed asserting his claim because deep in his soul he knew that he would be better employed tracking straggling orcs than ruling an ancient kingdom."

Saruman paused.  Faramir wished he could remove the wizard's sanctimonious expression, but held his silence and let the Istar indulge himself.  "Has he not said as much to you?  Aragorn let Mordor remain unwatched and barely guarded.  You and your late brother commanded hundreds of valiant men for many years in the face of Sauron's offensive.  You know that Aragorn should have secured Gondor's borders after Sauron fell.  But your King let himself be distracted by his coronation, the praise and tribute of his allies, and his marriage to the she-elf.  And in the years since he became King in name, Aragorn has sent no troops to patrol the boundary between Gondor and Mordor. He allowed me to rebuild Barad-Dur under his very nose!  His vaunted victories during the War of the Ring were a result of great luck, Gandalf's favour, and the aid of experienced captains, such as yourself, at his back." 

Faramir smiled.  "And yet, while you are reduced to one tower in a barren land, Elessar rules a great kingdom and rules it well.  As I recall, you were hiding powerless in Orthanc, guarded by talking trees, while my King brought forth the army of the Dead, defeated the greatest force ever assembled in Middle-Earth on the Pelennor Fields, and then brought the armies of the West to Sauron's very gate.  The White City would be a pile of broken stones if the King had not come to us."

“And yet Aragorn was all too ready to blame his recent failings on you, was he not?” Suraman echoed the other’s tone.

“How do you know that?” Faramir, though aghast at Saruman’s assertion did not show it.

Saruman ignored the question and carried on, “Aragorn is weak and scorns taking full responsibility for his failures. Instead, he seeks another scapegoat and you, the former Steward, fit the role quite agreeably.”

“No,” Faramir said.

“I do not blame you for your loyalty, Faramir,” Saruman continued. "You fought so hard and gave up so much to put that humble Ranger on the throne of Isildur.  But even you must start to see that he is not worth your pain, and the loss of your brother and father and all the others who have died to enthrone an unworthy outcast.  He is a liability.  Your father could see it long ago; Gondor surely deserves better."

“He is my King and I will follow him wherever he leads.”

“Your loyalty does you credit Lord Faramir, but there is an alternative.”

“He is the true King,” Faramir snapped. “You waste your breath Saruman. There is no alternative and even if you could offer me one, I would not take it.”

“You are a soldier, Faramir; you must know information is the most important aspect of warfare. In order to beat an opponent, you must understand him. You must learn to think as he does, you must know how he will act. That is why you are important to both me and the King.”

“We shall be here for days if you do not come to the point, Saruman" Faramir replied. He felt hot and constrained. 

“Aragorn sees your quality.” As if sensing the other’s discomfort, Saruman moved closer, hemming him in. “He wants you close. Why do you think that is? Because he knows you are a threat to him. Of all the men on this earth, you are most like him. And yet you are better than him for you could rule and you would be successful.”

“You would enthrone me in the King's stead? I will never commit such treachery. And I certainly would not have acted as I did seven years ago if you had not ensnared me unaware." 

“How can it be treason if the action is taken for the good of the realm? You know Faramir; deep inside you know it to be true. Do you remember what I did to you in that cave in Ithilien? Do you remember how I entwined you in my web?”

“No.” Faramir looked away from Saruman’s challenging stare.

“I tempted you with the Kingdom. I promised you the power but for the very best reasons: to save Gondor! And now I tell you that the only time that you have truly acted for the good of your people, for the good of your land was when you plunged that dagger into the King. You knew exactly what you were doing. You wanted to kill him to release Gondor.”

“No, that’s not true.”

“Look into your heart, Faramir. Allow yourself to see once more. Look past the walls of false friendship you have built up over the years and see that Aragorn must be removed. Be honest with yourself, for once.”

Faramir looked back to Saruman and pinned the wizard with the withering gaze that had been his father’s greatest weapon.

“Is this the best you can do, Saruman?” he spat. “There is no decision for me to make; I will betray neither my King nor the realm we guard.”

Saruman threw his arms in the air. “So you will remain the King’s fool. I have tried to reason with you. I have tried to make you understand but you are too obstinate or too stupid to see. After all you have lived through you have learned nothing. Age has not furrowed your face nor brought you true wisdom, I see.”

“I am not a child. You will not sway me with abuse, anymore than you will with false logic.” Faramir retorted coldly, fighting to keep his anger under control.

“So be it. You leave me with no choice. Wormtongue, bring our other guest.” He turned back to Faramir. “I said there was an alternative to Elessar’s pathetic rule. I am offering you a chance to be part of that, Faramir, because I do value your talents. You have the skill and understanding to lead an army that would beat Aragorn’s. I offer my troops to you. You could command an army of Uruk-Hai, the greatest fighters Middle Earth has ever seen. You would win because you understand Aragorn better than any other man. He knows this and he fears you!”

Faramir let out a humourless laugh. “You misjudge me Saruman. I will not lead your army. I have not forgotten that it was your Uruk-Hai monsters who ambushed and killed my brother. I would rather face any torment than stand at their side. And I will not take the throne from the King.”

“Even to give it to its rightful heir?”

“Aragorn is the rightful heir,” Faramir argued.

“I have explained to you that Aragorn is incapable, allow him to remain in power and Gondor will fall.”

As he spoke Wormtongue came back through the door with a companion, who was obscured from Faramir’s view by Saruman’s lean form.

“I can give you the King that you deserve." Saruman said as he moved out of the way. “Someone with the potential to be truly great if you, Faramir, shape him properly. I can give you a greater good to fight for and someone truly worth dying for!”

A young man, little more than a boy, stood before Faramir.  He was unhelmed, but otherwise arrayed in full armour, bearing the White Tree of Gondor on his silver breastplate.  The former Steward knew the tall, black- haired boy with the blue-grey eyes at once, though he had not seen him in two years and the youth had now grown so tall as to almost surpass his father's height.

“Prince Eldarion!” Faramir breathed, unable to control his shock.