Co-authored by Raksha

Chapter 10

Discord

The writing was unmistakably that of Anborn, Captain of the Ithilien Rangers currently stationed at the new garrison the King had established in Mordor.  Faramir remembered Anborn’s spidery hand from many such dispatches he had received down the years.  He re-read the words on the crumpled paper he had snatched from Aragorn’s hand as they left the Council Chamber. The hastily scrawled letters seemed to waiver as his eyes began to water.

He sniffed back the tears of anger and raised his eyes to the King who was standing by the window of the Steward's Chamber, staring out at the White City below them.

“My King,” Faramir began, “I request leave to take the White Company to Mordor and right this wrong.”  His voice was firm, only hinting of the barely controlled anger that swelled his heart.

Aragorn turned to regard him, his eyes gentle with sympathy.  “And I must deny your request, Lord Steward.”

Faramir flinched as if he had been struck.  “I was with them in Mordor only a few days ago. I know that the Rangers are yours to command now.  Even so, many of them are my comrades, men I have served with and captained in the darkest of times, or their sons and brothers.  Please, my lord,” he began.

“I know,” Aragorn said.  “And for that reason as well as others, it cannot be you, Faramir.”

“The King is right,” Imrahil’s reasonable voice came from behind the Steward.  “You carry too much, nephew, you always have.  Let another ride to Mordor.”  As he spoke the older man laid a supportive hand on the Steward’s trembling shoulder.

Faramir stepped forward, shrugging off his uncle’s support as his anger grew.  “It should be me!” he repeated, his eyes locked on the King.

Aragon sighed.  Slowly he moved across to one of the chairs and sat down.  Finally he spoke, slowly and sadly.  “Faramir, you must know that I value your words as much as I value your strength.  I missed your wise counsel when you were in exile.  But on this occasion, my friend, you are wrong.  You have let your anger cloud your mind.  I know how you yearn to avenge the fallen Rangers.  Yet there are any number of reasons why I cannot send you, chief among which is the fact that we do not know to where the Easterling invaders have retreated.  It was apparently a fairly small force.  Anborn guessed eight hundred men, and of those perhaps a hundred on horse.  They could be anywhere in Mordor by now, or poised to attack other parts of the Kingdom. 

“My lord, I would not stay here in safety and do nothing,” Faramir declared.  “The Rangers are almost all of Ithilien.  I have a duty to them.”

“And what about your duty to your King?” The sympathy in Aragorn’s eyes faded into weariness as he leaned forward towards his Steward.  “I cannot afford to let you go, not now.  There are many Captains in Gondor who can aid the Rangers.  But I have only one Steward and I need you here with me now.  ”

Something festered in Faramir’s mind, something he did not truly believe but still a point that had to be raised.  He must clarify his position with the King.  “This has naught to do with Ingold's accusations?” he asked, the anger gone from his voice.

Behind him Imrahil snorted loudly.

“I would be honest with you, Faramir,” Aragorn said.  “It is true that today’s Council session has shadowed your reputation with a few men who know you not well.  I trust you implicitly, as I always have.  No embittered lordling could ever lessen my faith in you.  But I shall not place you in a position where you would have to fight our own people along with our foes.  We both know how rumours spread in an army, how even groundless slurs can sway a simple soldier’s mind.  We must find a way to refute Ingold’s accusations once and for all. Until then, I will not place you at further risk.”  His tired face brightened a little as he finished, “A knife between the shoulder blades is no fitting end for a Steward of mine!”

Faramir raised an eyebrow. “Indeed, I hope not,” he said.

“Then we are agreed?” Aragorn said as he stood and moved to grip Faramir’s shoulder in a familiar gesture of comradeship. 

“Aye,” Faramir replied softly, accepting the King‘s will.

“Imrahil,” Aragorn said as he moved away.  “Who is your second?”

“Elphir accompanied me from Dol Amroth,” the older man responded.

“Then with your leave, he shall lead a counter-offensive to reinforce the garrison in Mordor, with a hundred of your knights and a thousand of my own Tower Guard.  I shall convey orders to him tonight; and ask that he leave early on the morrow.  I would have you bide here, Imrahil; for we will need to take less formal counsels soon.” Aragorn commanded in a voice that brooked little argument.  He turned back to Faramir as Imrahil left the room to seek his son.  “Where is that wizard?”

“Pallando?” Faramir had completely forgotten about the promised audience with the Istar.  “Presumably in your Chamber of Audience, where we left him, my lord.”

Aragorn’s face tightened into a clipped smile.  “It was probably said at one time or another that wizards are hard to lose.  Let us repair to my Chamber and hope that our blue-cloaked friend is still in it.”

Pallando was indeed still in the King's Chamber.  He was actually sprawled in the King's chair, reading one of the King's books, his feet on the King's fine oaken table.  As were the remnants of a meat-pie, cheese, figs, on the King's fine silver plates, along with a glass of wine. 

“Hail, King of the West!” Pallando greeted his host, rising briskly.  “And thank you for a most excellent sampling of Minas Tirith victuals.  And good afternoon to you, my young friend Faramir.  How went your Council session?”

“Well enough.”  Faramir replied curtly.  “Your Easterling friends have already struck at the Men of Gondor. Ourgarrison in Mordor has been attacked.”

Turning to Aragorn, Faramir continued:  “Yet before we come to that, I would, with your permission, my lord, call the Queen so that she might hear with you what Pallando and I know of Saruman’s stone.”

Aragorn sent first for the Queen and second for refreshment.  Servants rushed in and cleared the remnants of Pallando’s feast from the table, then brought in wine and goblets. 

Arwen arrived as the servants carried in platters of cheese and bread and fruit.  As always, Arwen came gracefully into the room, the epitome of elven grace.  Faramir observed a new hardness in the set of her perfect mouth, and a weariness in her blue eyes that matched the fatigue in Aragorn‘s face.  But to one who did not see her frequently, the Queen would look like a vision out of legends, Luthien reborn. 

Pallando whistled softly.  Then bowed.  “Forgive me, Lady Evenstar,” he spoke gently.  “Your beauty is much praised in the East; where you are confused with the Star-Kindler herself.  Yet words scarcely do you justice.  Thou art indeed the fairest daughter of the Eldar.  I am Pallando the Blue, at your service.”  He bowed, seemingly with true humility. 

“You are one of the two lost Istari?” Arwen replied, looking on the Blue Wizard with more than a little wonderment herself.  “Have you come to help my son?”

“If your lord permits it, I will do what I can for the boy.” 

“We shall see.”  Aragorn said tightly. “Faramir, would you tell my lady and I of your new discoveries concerning Saruman’s stone?”

Faramir brought forth the documents from the Library, and spread them out for the King and Queen to inspect.  He told them of what he had learned from the records.

“Then the stone that ensorcelled my son is not of Saruman’s making at all!”  Arwen surmised.  “It is the Sarn e-Dín, the Stone of Silence, of which my father spoke on several occasions.  We thought it lost forever.”

Aragorn cleared his throat after nibbling a few grapes.  “This information is no doubt of great interest to the lore-masters, but how can it help free my heir?  Even if the son of Feanor and his jewel-smiths crafted the Stone, it was Saruman who used it to fell purpose.”

“Exactly!” declared Pallando quite loudly.  “And Curumo, who you call Saruman, is dead.  He can no longer exert any new influence over those he once enthralled with it.  The boy still sleeps, because that was the last action that Saruman used the stone to accomplish, but once he wakes, he will never return to this prolonged and unnatural rest.  Just as Faramir will never again think of harming the King, or of carrying out any other mischief that Saruman might have conceived.”

“Saruman the White is dead?”  Arwen asked hopefully.

“Most definitely, my lady,” Pallando assured Arwen.  “He will not trouble you and yours again.”

“What happened to his body?  My men searched for it but found it not.”  Aragorn asked. 

“Alatar had hidden in the tunnels beneath Saruman’s tower throughout your assault.  He and Saruman had planned to take your son to the East if the battle went against them, or to Minas Tirith if Saruman’s plan worked and you were slain.  Alatar saw Saruman fall to the elf’s arrow after Faramir forced him off the balcony.  He found Saruman; who was dead as he hit the ground; and took him away, along with the surviving Uruk-hai.  And we buried Saruman, who had once been our brother and leader Curumo, east of Mordor.  It was then that Alatar told me of this wretched plan he and Saruman had concocted; to conquer Gondor by force of arms if  they could not gain entry to it by killing Elessar and suborning his son.  He knows of the Stone of Silence; and had tried, in the brief time he had in the tunnels, to find it after Saruman’s death.  As I told young Faramir here, I have come to try to prevent more useless spilling of the blood of the sons of the East and West.  And to help revive the Heir of Gondor.  If Faramir had not found the Stone of Silence, waking the boy would be a near-impossible task.  It still will be a tricky business.”

“But my son can be revived?”  Arwen asked, her eyes large in her pale face.  “How?”

Pallando replenished the goblet he had already drained.  “You have at your disposal the two known healing Stones created by Celebrimbor.  One is King Elessar’s famous Stone of Renewal, the Elfstone that you, my lady, wore and your mother and Lady Galadriel before her.  The Elfstone was made to help the sick and the injured.  Such isits power that the Heir of Isildur could even use the Elfstone to call forth those poor souls afflicted by the Nazgûl's Black Breath, for which there was no other known remedy.  The smaller stone, the Stone of Silence, was made to calm a weary or troubled mind.  It was not made to enable its bearer to ride roughshod over the will of another; simply for the bearer to guide another, willingly, to a peaceful sleep or merely a more restful mood.  Saruman twisted the stone’s purpose so he could force his will on the mind of a confused person.  That is how he originally caught up your mind, Faramir, from what he told Alatar, you were injured and unwary when he enthralled you with it.  He caught you off guard.  The important thread in this tapestry is that these two stones might well be made to work in concert and bring about Eldarion’s waking.”

“How could that be done?”  asked Aragorn, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Saruman’s influence on the Stone of Silence need not be permanent, now that  he is gone.  I must examine the stone and make sure that all evil purpose is removed.  We know not whether the stone was touched by Sauron, or exactly how it came to Saruman.  But I believe I can return the stone to its original state.  And then, Faramir will bear it and Elessar will use his Elfstone.  Together, you can use the stones to awaken the boy.  That is, if you are both willing.”

Faramir quelled a sudden chill of purest terror.  The thought of any further use of Saruman’s stone, no matter who its maker had been, was most unsettling.  He still remembered the green fire of the stone in Saruman’s hands, like a spear of light.  He would never forget the head-stabbing pain when Saruman seemed to carve words into him as his mind scrabbled like a trapped animal.   Yet he had defied Saruman when last they had met and resisted the White Wizard’s further influence.  He could do it again, if that were the only way to awaken his King’s son.  Aloud, Faramir said quietly:  “I am willing to try.”

“But I am most assuredly not willing!”  Aragorn declared, rising to his feet.  “You would have Faramir wield that cursed stone, the very tool that Saruman used to turn him traitor against his will?  Why can you not be the one to wield it?  Or me.  If anyone should harness the power of both the stones, it should be me.”

“With respect, Son of Arathorn, you may be the King, but you are not the master of the Sarn e-Dín.”  Pallando answered.  “I doubt that both stones could be used by one person at the same time, at least to good effect.  They are powerful, together perhaps even more so.  The Stone of Silence’s use on both Faramir and Eldarion may create a sort of binding between them.  I think Faramir can help you find your son, if you both seek him while wearing the stones.  And Faramir has shown himself resistant to Saruman’s influence once he bent his own considerable will against the White Hand.  Do you not know your Steward's quality?”

Aragorn moved lightning-swift to Faramir’s side and gripped his shoulder, standing between Faramir and Pallando.  He glared at the Blue Wizard.   “It is precisely because I do know Faramir’s quality that I refuse to put him or my heir at further risk, wizard!  Faramir is the most loyal man in all my Realm.  He was my strong right arm in the ruling of this land for the years after the War of the Ring.  Then Saruman came and used that stone to enthrall him, to turn him, unwilling and unknowing, into a foresworn traitor!  Saruman’s stone nearly drove Faramir mad.  It broke his valiant heart!  Even now, when he has taken up the Stewardship again, he is robbed of the full trust that he deserves, because of what Saruman did to him through the stone.  And you propose to not only make him wield this stone, but allow it to be brought to bear on my only son?  I think not!”

Faramir turned in Aragorn’s grasp and sought his King’s angry eyes.  “My lord, for my part, I would try to wield the Stone of Silence.  It is not without danger, a danger I understand better than any of you.  But I believe I can resist any further trick of Saruman if I remain on my guard.  Eldarion’s awakening is worth the risk.”

The King released Faramir, but stood between him and Pallando as if he would guard him from the wizard.  “No, Faramir, it is not worth that risk!”  Aragorn said painfully, ignoring Arwen’s sharp intake of breath.  “If we use the same stone to awaken him that Saruman used to enthrall Eldarion, then how long will it be until my heir turns on me and drives a knife through my heart?  A few months, perhaps a year or more?  How could I ever trust him, not knowing under whose command he is?”

“You have trusted me, my lord, after I attacked you, long before I confronted Saruman and found myself free of his influence,” Faramir countered.  “Or so you have said, and I know that you would not lie to me.”

“I would trust you with my life, Faramir,” Aragorn replied.  “But you are a man grown and hardened; while Eldarion is a trusting child still.  The risk that he be overwhelmed by whatever remnant of Saruman’s will lies in that stone is too great.  Let us keep Saruman’s stone in reserve.  My foster-brothers, who exceed my own knowledge of lore and healing arts, will return from Imladris.  I would have their counsel in this matter.  Meanwhile, let Eldarion continue to sleep.  For we have a war to win that cannot wait; the Easterlings could over-run at least our borders and outer provinces, and perhaps cause much damage to the White City itself."

“Let Eldarion sleep?”  queried a voice as cold as winter frost.  Faramir was surprised to realize that the voice was Arwen’s.  He had never heard the Queen speak in any but the most dulcet tones.

“You propose to let our son continue his unnatural sleep, my husband?” Arwen continued.  The glance she gave Aragorn was not a gentle one. 

“Yes, until Elladan and Elrohir return.  They will probably have found another way to heal him, one that is less...”

Arwen interrupted her husband. “My brothers departed for Imladris but three weeks past.  They would have only just arrived.   And even if they found a cure for Eldarion within a week of their arrival, it will take them another month to bring it to us.  I doubt that Eldarion can wait that long.”

“No, my lady, surely his condition is not yet that grave...” Aragorn argued.

“And how would you know?”  Arwen cried.  “You can hardly stand to look at him!  That is, when you visit your son at all, which is barely once every ten days.  I see him every day and every day I consult his nurses and Healers.  Did you know that he swallows less and less of the sugar-water now, and hardly any broth, even when it is my hand that feeds him?  He consumes less than a sickened fledgling.  Have you not seen how much thinner he is?  Estel, he is beginning to die! Surely his life is worth the risk of using the two stones!”

“More people will die sooner than my heir if I do not march against the Easterlings!” Aragorn said defensively, his pale face assuming the stubborn look that Faramir knew boded ill for further dissent.  “I have a responsibility to my people; I am their King!”

“You have a responsibility to your son and to me as well, my husband!” Arwen shot back.  “But I think you would much rather go ride off to lead the Men of the West into battle than fight for Eldarion at home!”

“Arwen, please...”  Aragorn was losing ground.  “My lady, you knew what my life was like, that the fight against Sauron came first, as does the needs of the Realm, before our own happiness.  You waited for me all those years without complaint.”

“I was not a mother during those years.  I did not have to watch my child lying in this false sleep that takes his strength, his life from him.  If I had, I would have taken the One Ring and ridden, walked, crawled through Mordor itself to throw the Ring into the fires of Orodruin, despite the risk that the Ring could overthrow my will, if that is what it took to save my son.” 

Trembling with anger, Arwen shook her head vehemently, sending her hair flying like a raven banner in a heavy wind.  “So take your armies to the East and defend the Reunited Kingdom, Elessar.  Leave me behind in this city of pitiless stone, to watch my child fade.  He shall be dead by the time you win your victory.  And my heart shall die with him!” 

Aragorn reached out towards his lady. Her eyes burned with anger and unshed tears as she spurned his touch.  Then she strode from the Chamber without a backward glance. 

The King of Gondor and Arnor sat down heavily.  He wore the same look of shocked surprise that Faramir had seen on the faces of men suddenly mortally wounded in battle.  

Faramir had not known that Eldarion’s plight was so grave as to so destroy his parents’ hearts.  Their love was a thing of song and story, a harmony of the proudest lines of Elves and Men.  He had thought that love unassailable by discord.  Yet it seemed that Aragorn and Arwen were mortal after all.  Quietly, he poured wine into a goblet and brought it to Aragorn.  His King took the goblet and poured half its contents down his throat in one gulp. 

“How did this stone ever come into Saruman’s evil hands?” Faramir asked Pallando, wishing to give Aragorn time to recover. 

“Saruman the White was a thieving jackdaw as well as a wizard,” Pallando chuckled.  “He liked pretty things of great antiquity.  He boasted of having squirreled away the chain that had held the One Ring around Isildur’s neck, as well as the Elendilmir that crowned your King‘s ancestors, behind lock and key in Orthanc.  But he never told us how he had come to have a stone of Celebrimbor’s making.  There were Men among the ranks of Sauron’s forces when Eregion was sacked; perhaps Saruman found it later in the hands of some greedy Easterling. Or Sauron might have taken the Stone of Silence.  Though if he had found a use for it, he would never have let Saruman have it.  I do not think we shall ever have the truth of it.  Yet fear not, the Sarn e-Dín will tell me at least the secret of whose will turned it from a healer’s tool into such a cruel instrument.   That is, should you allow me to explore the stone.  I could only do so if it is worn by someone on whom it has been used.  And that would be you, Faramir.”

“I grow weary of this cursed stone!” Aragorn declared.  “Pallando, why have you come here at this time, when we stand on the brink of war with the people with whom you have long dwelt?  And why are you so eager to endanger my son?”

Pallando’s smile faded.  “I would not endanger the boy,” he said.  “But I know of no other way to try to awaken him, and the lad‘s time grows short.  Saruman‘s misuse has made that trinket a powerful weapon in a wizard‘s hands.  Alatar knows of its power and he wants it for his own use.  He knows it was last seen at Saruman’s tower in Mordor.  That is why the garrison in Mordor was attacked. “

“As for why I came at this time. . .“ Pallando continued.  “I come to end a war that is now beginning.  A needless, bloody war which will rob both Gondor and Rhun of their sons.  A war which must be stopped as soon as possible.  I will give you knowledge of the Easterlings’ forces and tactics.  In return, I ask you to be generous in the victory you will have.  Leave the Easterling tribes with as much pride and dignity and wealth as you can.  And I ask you to spare the life of the leader of the Easterlings, he is dear to me.”

Remembering their previous conversation, Faramir said, “Alatar?  He who conspired with Saruman to bring this woe upon the King‘s house?”

“Yes, Alatar.  I might be able to bring him back to the light, or at least as much of him as I can reach.  Now that our great Enemy has fallen, the divisions between light and darkness are no longer as clear.  I will not allow Alatar to continue to threaten the fragile peace of this Middle-earth, for too much has been sacrificed for it.  And too many.”

The King sighed.  “I will confer further with you on the matter of the Easterling threat, Pallando.  But for now, let there be no more talk of the stone.  Faramir, I charge you to keep it safe.”

“Of course, my lord.”  Faramir answered.  He had not given up his belief that Pallando was right, that the Stone of Silence would have to be used to awaken Eldarion.  But for now, the King’s patience was exhausted.  Further argument would have to wait at least a little longer.  Yet there was one question he needed to ask Aragorn.

“My lord, I entreat a word with you in private.”

“Hmm?  Yes, very well.”  The King motioned for Pallando to stay in his seat, and left the Chamber, shutting the door behind him.  Faramir followed his lord, bearing with him the book and scroll from the Library.

“Aragorn, you said this morning that you had heard of Pallando,” said Faramir, when they had walked several paces into the deserted hall.  “How had you learned of him?”

The King smiled wistfully.  “Gandalf himself told me of the Blue Wizards.  He gave me much good counsel between the end of the War and his departure for the Blessed Realm.   He told me that Pallando was worthy of my trust, that he had a good heart as well as the appetite of a hobbit on the march. “

“And Alatar?”

“Gandalf was less sure of Alatar.  He felt that Alatar‘s guilt over the treatment of the Easterlings could drive him to anger and war with the Men of the West.  Yet he also believed that if anyone could keep Alatar’s rage in check, it would be Pallando.  The two have apparently been fast friends since before the light of the Two Trees was lost.”  Aragorn leaned against the wall.  “I shall weigh Pallando’s worth myself.  We have much labour before us, to prepare to go to war.  We must march as soon as possible.  And our borders must be protected before we do so.  Rohan must be called.  Prepare the order for the lighting of the beacons; I will meet you here in two hours to seal the command.  And then you must take some rest, Faramir.  These are evil times; and all our strength will be needed to come through them.”

Dismissed, Faramir left with a heavy heart.  The imminent war was a matter of great and urgent import, but so was Eldarion’s life.  Would Aragorn really leave for the East with his son in such straits?  And if he did, and the lad died, would the Queen ever forgive him?  Would Aragorn ever forgive himself?

Authors’ Notes:

Elphir, Prince Imrahil’s “second”, is also his oldest son.  See The Peoples of Middle-earth (The History of Middle-earth vol 12, I VII The Line of Dol Amroth).

The “Star-Kindler” to whom Pallando compares Arwen, is Varda, also called Elbereth, the Valar’s Queen of the Stars.

Orodruin is the Sindarin name for Mount Doom

The Sarn e-Dín is the Sindarin name for Stone of Silence, which is what Gil-Galad once called the stone made by Celebrimbor and later acquired and misused by Saruman.  See chapter 7 for more details.  But don't blame Tolkien; because this stone and its original name and purpose, is conceived by us for this set of stories. 

Thanks:

Thanks for taking the time to read and review this story.  The bad news is there will now be an intermission of about three weeks because I have a date with Mickey Mouse in Orlando!  The good news is the rest of this story has been drafted so we will be continuing once I return.  Look for a new post around 7 August; please be patient until then!

Cheers

Clairon