Ch. 17 - Torture Revisited

Ciramir was waiting for her when she returned to her own quarters. She could tell he had been waiting for some long time; his toe was tapping as she turned the corner. She stifled a smile. “My dear Captain, forgive me for the delay. Have you supped yet?”

“Nay.”

“Well, neither have I. I would be most pleased if you would join me?”

For one moment, she thought he would decline, but seemed to think better of it. He nodded.

The guard opened the door for them; she called her maidservant and ordered dinner for three. “If you do not mind, I will ask Húrin to join us?”

“Of course, Regent, whatever you wish.”

Did she note the slightest touch of sarcasm in his voice? She would forgive him; she had already, twice this day, insulted him.

“Come into my study. I have one missive that must be writ, then we may speak.” She went to her desk and sat. After a few moments, she affixed the seal of Gondor to it and called for her guard. “Call for an errand-rider for Dol Amroth and have this taken to Prince Imrahil immediately.”

The man nodded, took the missive and left.

“You are telling Prince Imrahil about Faramir?”

She nodded. “He must know.”

He made a small groan. “I am sorry.”

She turned to Ciramir. “I have only the deepest regret for my words to you earlier today. I would take them back, if I could. You have ever been a faithful servant to Gondor and to my family. Will you forgive me?”

The man looked at her in surprise. “You may be Denethor’s sister, but he would never have asked forgiveness for something that I did. It is I who must ask forgiveness, my Regent.” He blushed. “And for my tone this night.”

She came around the desk and sat on the overstuffed chair opposite him. “Tell me about Amandil and how it came to pass that you were imprisoned. Please?”

He stood and walked to the window. “Only for you, dear Lady.” He walked to the sideboard and poured a large glass of brandy. “If you do not mind?” he belatedly asked.

“Another apology. I should have offered.”

He said naught for many moments. Eventually, he returned to the settle. “I would say that everything happened so quickly we were caught unawares, but that is not what happened. Amandil convened the Council after Denethor was only gone a fortnight. He said he had received word of an attack and of Denethor, Boromir and Faramir’s deaths. He said he was next in line, due to his ancestry. He brought out many documents supporting his claims.”

“What about Húrin?” Indis interrupted. “All know he is next in line.”

“The Warden himself questioned Amandil, but the documents substantiated all that was said. Húrin acquiesced.” Ciramir shook his head. “We should have spent more time researching his claims, but the Citadel, nay the entire City, reeled at the news of Denethor’s death.

By this time, Húrin had entered. “What about your claim, Indis? Though you were in Edoras, we should have accepted you as Steward. A woman has held such a high position before. But we did not.”

“I can understand that. In such a hideous time, it would seem wise to have a male in power. Anything to prevent kin-strife.”

“Húrin was sent to Dol Amroth with the news. Amandil said it was imperative that someone of high standing should tell the prince of his nephews’ deaths. All agreed. Now that I think upon it, I am sure it was because of Húrin’s ancestry. Amandil needed him away from the City; he knew he could not outright kill him. Not yet anyhow. Within another week, men were coming into Minas Tirith and given positions of power. I began to question, as did others. Amandil said they were men stationed at Osgiliath. Did we not know? As if we were untutored children. Mayhap it was my pride that finally made me question the man.”

Indis smiled.

“Some of Denethor’s captains rallied behind me. Most did not. I found myself charged with treason and sent to the dungeons, along with those who followed me. We thought it was only a matter of time before the Council rescinded this order and freed us. However, a fortnight went by, then another. At first, we received three meals a day. After two days, the rations were cut. We found only the daymeal was given us. Water only enough for one so that we had to apportion it if we were to remain alive. After a week, we were taken, one by one, to the torture rooms on the last level of the dungeons.” Ciramir shook and Húrin took his hand. “I will not tell you what we endured, but we lost two men in the ensuing weeks.”

“Tell me, Ciramir. I must know.”

“My lady, I would not tell seasoned warriors for fear they would faint. I will not tell you.”

“It was that bad?”

“It was. And constant. One day for each of us and then they began again when the last man was finished. I was… tortured not less than six times for a period of twelve hours at a time. I gave up hope. I knew Gondor was now in the hands of a true enemy. Yet, we were powerless. Some hoped that we would be rescued, but I knew… I know people. You think me pessimistic… I am. We were not rescued; the other men obeyed Amandil in fear. I cannot fault them.” He stood and refilled his glass. “I would they had more quality. They did not. I no longer expect quality from the men of Gondor.” Bitterness flowed from him. “Amandil’s men came again one evening and chained us all together. We were led out into the night and southward. I almost retched as I realized where we were being taken. The others would not believe me; would not believe that we were to be sold as slaves in Harad. If not for Prince Imrahil, I would not be here.” He shuddered and quaffed the last of his brandy.

“Why were you so brusque with Théoden King?”

“Where was he?” the man spat as he stood. “He came almost too late. In fact, he came too late for Boromir.” The captain slumped against the mantle. Quiet sobs shook him.

Húrin stood and walked to his side. “We all came too late for Boromir, Ciramir. It is as if the fates had decided the boy should…”

Indis covered her face with her hands, sobbing herself at the loss and their utter helplessness at the time. Though months had passed since that fateful day, it felt as if ‘twere yesterday.

"And now Faramir is lost to us," Ciramir said, his voice low. "The Valar have given up on men. We are lost."