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My Sword Trembles - Book Three - 'My Sword' Series  by Agape4Gondor

Chapter Thirty-Five – The Battle for Faramir

Indis received a report with the morning’s change of guard. Faramir was far down the Anduin. In an hour, the third bell, she would see the wizard and weave her deceptions. She shivered at the thought of it and wondered if she truly had the strength that was needed to misinform a wizard. She wished Thorongil was at her side. The man had always filled her with confidence, and, when she met him by the Mering in the spring, she had felt a quiet wisdom within him, even greater than what he had when he lived in Minas Tirith.

Húrin sat before her, cup of tea in hand, morning reports sprawled out upon the settle next to him. She listened as the birds sang in the southerly breeze. This was Arciryas favorite time of day. They would lie in bed, hands twined, and listen to the birds. He needed some sense of rightness before he started his rounds in the Houses. The smell of decaying flesh, the whimpers of those who would not live out the day, the sight of limbs in the halls after a day of amputations, all burned the quiet soul that lived within him. Her lip began to tremble and she tried to put the thought of him away.

“Faramir will return shortly, Indis, and in good health,” Húrin tried to reassure her, totally misunderstanding the tears he saw falling.

She nodded her head, wet her lips, and said, “Yes, he will return and more grown up than ever, you know.”

He smiled warmly. “He looks more like his father every day.”

“I thought he looked more like Boromir.”

Húrin sipped the tea. Then looked up. “Are you thinking upon Boromir?”

“Nay.” She held her hands in front of her and looked at the band upon her wedding finger. “Nay,” her voice dropped to a whisper.

“Arciryas?”

She lowered her head. “Yes.”

“He would not be able to stand before the wizard, Indis. He was too kind, too gentle. He would listen, with eyes gone wide, and accept every lie.”

“I know,” she swallowed painfully.

“I will stand at your side, as will Listöwel. Balan and a contingent of the Tower Guard will stand behind you. I am tempted,” he smiled slightly, “to place cotton in my ears, lest I fall pray to his enchantment.”

She smiled, wiped the tears from her eyes with the lovely handkerchief that Morwen had gifted her with at Théodwyn’s wedding, and sat straighter. She took her own tea in hand and sipped it. “I think we will be fine. You stood before him yesterday with nary a problem.”

“I succumbed, for a moment,” the Warden blushed. “Until some noise outside took my attention from him. Once I looked back, I was amazed; his words sent shivers through my body, instead of the comfort I had felt only moments before. When he demanded you give him Faramir…”

“It was a command, was it not?”

“It was.” Húrin’s voice mimicked the wizard’s. “I will leave on the morrow and expect Faramir to be with me. Balrog’s… Forgive me. How dare he, Indis? How dare he speak such words in the Great Hall?”

“He is ever in command of those about him, I suppose.”

“Even the Rohirrim.”

“Yes. Even Éomund whom I trust with my life. I wonder if Elves succumb to him?”

“Nay. That would not be possible.”

“Elves fell prey to Morgoth and then Sauron. Why not Saruman?”

The Warden took a deep breath. “I cannot fathom such a thing.”

“Perhaps if one is weak in body, mayhap wounded or in great stress, the wizard can break through and weave his spells. Húrin, if the healer from Rohan had the same smell of Saruman, mayhap he is the one who placed the spell on Faramir.”

“The healer?”

“Yes. Saruman was not near Faramir, not whilst we visited Edoras, nor whilst on the road home. Yet, the healer came to us, halfway through that trip, and spent time alone with Faramir.” She shuddered. “I will never leave him alone with anyone again!”

“Then we keep all from the Mark away from Faramir forever!”

“Nay. Éomund is no threat, though he is no ally when the wizard is about. I believe not that Ragnhild is a threat either. If I keep her away from him.”

“That is a weakness for Gondor, Indis. They should not be allowed within our borders.”

“Stop that kind of talk, Húrin. I will not let fear dictate whom I accept as Gondor’s friends and whom not. Éomund will always be welcome here; Ragnhild remains my counselor. Though,” she smiled, “she will not attend me at this morning’s audience.”

Listöwel entered the room. “All is in readiness, my Regent. The Guard knows their role in today’s audience. They will surround the Great Hall, stand alongside the statues of the kings, and watch your back, Indis. I will command the men myself. Balan will stand next to you and the Warden. All have been warned of the subterfuge of the wizard. They have strengthened their hearts to battle readiness. We will endure this.”

Indis smiled warmly. “Thank you, Captain-General. Let us go down to the Hall. I would not keep a wizard waiting.”

Listöwel chuckled as she led her Regent into the Hall. The Chamberlain rapped the marble floor with his staff and all stood as Indis entered. She walked quickly to the Chair and sat. Balan stepped forward, saluted, then stood on her left; Listöwel stood on her right.

Surreptitiously, the Regent looked about the Hall. There was no sign of the wizard. Húrin stepped forward. “He is approaching the Hall. He should be here in a moment. Obviously, he prefers you wait for him. I would flay him, if given the command.” He smiled wickedly.

She shook her head; a slight smile graced her mouth. “Nay,” she spoke quietly. “We will be the height of forbearance.” She sat back a bit in the Chair and accepted the Rod from her Warden.

The crowd began to stir, wondering at the delay in the usual proceedings of the day. The Chamberlain had had the scribe take the names of the petitioners, so they waited their turn, but impatiently, as time slipped by. At last, the wizard entered the Hall and all quieted. The Chamberlain ushered him forward, upon Indis’ motion.

Curunír stood before the Regent, and for a brief moment, Indis felt his gaze pierce her very heart. Her breathing became stifled; her left hand fidgeted in her lap whilst her right twirled, twirled the Rod! She cursed herself for her weakness and stilled her hands. Sitting a little straighter in the Chair, she accepted his greeting. A warmth and peace filled her for a moment as he spoke, then, her mind cleared. Trying not to clench her teeth, or do anything that would display her weakness, she smiled at the wizard. “Lord Curunír, beloved friend of Gondor, we have listened to your advice, have taken counsel with our lords, and, at this time, regretfully must decline your invitation to protect Faramir by taking him to your stronghold at Isengard.”

He bristled. She could feel the air about her becoming warmer. Her face flushed. Fire seemed to shoot from his eyes, yet she knew it was an illusion. No matter, still, her heart fluttered and her mouth grew dry. His eyes pierced hers and she almost cried aloud. Yet, she strove and held herself still as fear ran up her spine like the claws of some great beast. In a moment, she realized the wizard was the source of the fear; some power radiated from him and she felt caught in his web. The feeling of fear gradually subsided, only to be replaced by a… A hunger emanated from him. A hunger for her! She wanted to retch at the sudden sensation. Her legs began to shake; she put her hands on her knees to steady them. The Rod caught the sunlight glistening through one of the windows to her right and pierced her eyes. It broke the spell. She swallowed in gratitude and sat back.

“The Steward Faramir is indisposed.” She spoke firmly. “He has contracted some fever along with a rash. The Warden of the Houses has quarantined him. None are allowed to visit, for fear there may be some contagion. I most regret this development. The quarantine period is a fortnight. I would ask you to stay and wait for his recovery; however, it would be rude and ungrateful to make such a request. When he is better, I will send for you.”

He stiffened. She felt as if lightning flashed from his eyes. Pure hatred flowed towards her. Húrin, blessed, faithful Húrin moved between the wizard and Indis. “My Lord Curunír. Your contingent has been told of the Regent’s decision. They and your horse await you in the Sixth Circle.” He graciously extended his arm to usher the wizard away from Indis, but Curunír would not be so led. The wizard waited another moment, eyes locked firmly with Indis, then he bowed, turned and left the Hall.

She fell back in her Chair. Listöwel knelt by her side, and quickly motioned to the Chamberlain. He noted the look in the Captain-General’s eyes and harshly banged his staff upon the floor. “This session is ended. We will meet again on the morrow.”

The people, petitioners, vendors, and lords looked at each other and began muttering. Balan strode forward. “This session is ended!” he shouted. “You will all leave now!”

At last, the spell of the wizard was broken, and the people left the Hall, ushered out by the Tower Guard. Balan stepped to Indis’ side. She was insensible. “Send for the Warden of the Houses,” he whispered to the Chamberlain. “Your duty here is finished for the time. We will care for the Regent.”

The Chamberlain had gone white with fear, but Balan’s calm voice reassured him. “Aye, my Lord. It will be done. I will bring the Healer myself.” He ran from the Hall without even saluting.





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