Chapter Forty-Four - Of Stewards and Kings

For two days, once Aragorn came out of the mountains, Imrahil and he renewed their friendship. The brothers of Morwen Steelsheen treated them warmly and opened their houses to them. Imrahil’s men were bivouacked in a field nearby. Valanestel and his company rode on a few leagues to set up camp near the River Erui. Faramir spent those two days romping with the farm children, playing with the spring lambs, and fishing in a nearby stream – not a very deep one. At last, Imrahil deemed it time to leave. “It has been a pleasure seeing you once again, Thorongil. Are you staying in Gondor? All would welcome you.”

“I cannot – not at this time. I plan on spending the next three months with my Steward, then I will send a rider to Indis…”

Imrahil held up a hand. “If you would give me the honor. I will return in three month’s time and take your Steward back to Minas Tirith. Since you refuse to take your rightful place.”

Aragorn held back the shiver that threatened to betray him.

“You speak of Faramir being your Steward. Indis thinks it is something else. She… Are you Gondor’s King, Thorongil?”

“If I did not know better, I would think you drunk.”

Imrahil stood and walked towards the door. “A King would be useful.”

Aragorn laughed loudly. “Indeed. And yet, you not only have a Steward, you have a Regent. Your country seems top-heavy at the moment.”

Imrahil turned. “My country? If you refuse to answer my question, I will answer it for you. You are Gondor’s King, returned to us at last, but you refuse to take the Kingship, no matter Gondor’s need. Do I deem you a coward then?” The prince physically shook. “Nay. I think not for I have fought beside you and I know your courage. Do you think Gondor needs no King? I cannot believe that. You have seen the strife that comes with having a Steward. Are your credentials so poor you would not pass Mardil’s test? Ah! Mayhap that is the clue. And so you wait. What do you wait for, Thorongil - the masses to rise up and proclaim you? That would have been done the day you returned from the Battle of Umbar. The people cried out your name, but you were not there to hear it. Denethor told me. Was that not enough? Did you need Ecthelion to proclaim it? He would have. Come, Thorongil, be not guarded with me. Tell me why you will not take the Crown.”

“There is naught to discuss. You spout absurdities.”

The Prince of Dol Amroth snorted. “Absurdities or no – Denethor let slip, a time or two, something about you. Indis has done the same. I think they both believed you are Gondor’s King. Tell me why you will not take the Crown.”

“Would you take your father’s crown, Imrahil, though he is still hale and hearty?”

“It is not the same. There is no King to overthrow. I have not the wisdom of my father, nor of Denethor, but I know much of Gondor’s history. What could you fear so, that would keep you from your rightful heritage?” The prince walked back to the door and looked out upon the fields of Lossarnach. Spring roses bloomed along the walkway. He pushed open the door and broke a flower from its stem. A thorn caught his finger. As he put the bleeding digit to his mouth, his head rose. “Kin-strife,” he shuddered as he spoke the word. “You fear kin-strife.” Turning back to Thorongil, he saluted. “I will ask no further questions nor tire you with my rantings. When the time comes, Thorongil, know that I am yours to command.” He turned, walked to his readied horse, and mounted. “I have farewell’d Faramir. Give my thanks to Berthil’s sons for their hospitality,” he shouted as he rode off.

Aragorn sat still until Faramir ran into the room. “I waved to my uncle. Now that he is off will we begin my training?”

Aragorn stood, walked to the door and watched, for a moment, as Imrahil and his men rode away. “So now, my esquire,” he cleared his throat, suddenly very choked at Imrahil’s understanding, then turned to Faramir. “We will perform the ceremony.” Faramir looked up at him in surprise, but kept still. “You have pledged an oath to your Regent and to Gondor, but an esquire must also pledge his fidelity and his service to his Lord and Liege.”

Faramir nodded. “Tell me what I must do and I will do it.”

Aragorn smiled down at the eagerness in the boy’s face. “It is not as elaborate a ceremony as others, Faramir, but your heart must be fixed on this. Do you understand what course you now take?”

“I am to be your esquire. I am to carry your armor, shield and sword. I am to protect you, if need be. I carry your flag and dress you. I care for your horse when in the field.” The boy thought some more. “I hold any prisoners you take. I rescue you, should you be taken prisoner. I make sure you are buried properly if you die. Oh, if your sword breaks, I replace it with a new one. Oh yes! If your horse is injured, I find you a new horse.”

Aragorn laughed long and hard. At last, he turned away and composed his face. “Those are all things that an esquire is required to do.” He turned back towards the boy. “I require more, Faramir. I require fealty and love. Obedience and respect.”

“I will give you those,” the boy nearly jumped with excitement.

“Faramir, kneel.”

The Steward of Gondor did so without a thought.

“Give me your sword.” Faramir drew it forth from its scabbard and handed it, hilt first, to Aragorn. The Dúnedain placed the tip gently on Faramir’s right shoulder. “I now call thee, Faramir, esquire of Gondor and of…” Here the man paused and grimaced. He withdrew the sword and knelt in front of Faramir. “I must speak of something which must not be spoken of to any but Indis. Faramir, the name I have used in the past was Thorongil. It is one of my many names. I cannot allow it to be spoken here in Gondor, but I would have the oath given to me as Thorongil, for that is how Ecthelion commissioned me as a captain in his army. Do you understand?”

Faramir smiled. “I knew you were the great Captain Thorongil, Strider. The way Indis and Uncle Imrahil treated you. You had said, in Ithilien, that you are a captain of Gondor. Who else could you have been but the mighty Thorongil, friend to my father.”

Aragorn held the boy close and wept. “Indeed. I loved your father full well and he loved me. You are indeed your father’s son, Faramir, wise and good. Thank you for keeping my secret.” The Ranger stood and drew a shaky breath. “We will continue.” And in but a moment, Faramir became esquire to Thorongil, Captain and Hero of Gondor.

“Let us be away from here,” Aragorn said at last. “My thoughts have been uneasy this past day. Go to the stable and retrieve our horses. They should be saddled and ready. What little stores I deem necessary are already on the horses. We will live off the land. Now, go, while I farewell our hosts.”

Within the quarter hour, Aragorn and his esquire were away and headed northwestward towards the White Mountains. They followed beside a small stream whose source was probably somewhere high up on Mindolluin. Aragorn kept a clear watch ahead and behind him. He had spoken truly; he was ill at ease. After four hours of fairly easy riding, he raised his hand. Faramir reined in his horse and waited. “We will take but a short break to give our horses rest. Lead the horses to the stream and let them drink. Fill our flasks also.” Aragorn dismounted and began to climb a nearby oak. He smiled as he noted Faramir biting his lip, probably to keep from questioning his lord. He watched as the boy took the horses and walked quickly to the stream.

Once he knew Faramir was safe and there were no enemies about – natural or unnatural – he proceeded to climb higher. His brow rose as close to one hundred men on horses rode about a furlong south of them. They were heavily armed, but not in the livery of Gondor. ‘So this is why I have been wary.’ After a moment, he stiffened in surprise. The men were headed east towards Berthil’s farms. Their horses looked hard-ridden, froth gleamed on their flanks. ‘Hmm, they seem to be men of Tarnost. What are they doing so far from home?’ He watched a little longer to ensure they were indeed headed in the opposite direction, then did a quick survey of the land. When the Ranger had assured himself no others were about, he climbed back down the tree. Faramir and the horses awaited him. The boy wordlessly handed him his refilled flask. Aragorn put his finger to his lips for silence, then motioned for Faramir to join him on a nearby stump.

Speaking as quietly as possible, Aragorn began, “Your uncle told me of a plot to overthrow you; Indis is going to lead an attack against the traitor’s army. Do you know of this?”

Faramir nodded.

“Do you know how many companies Indis took with her?”

“Ten,” Faramir whispered, “four cavalry and six infantry.”

“Then all will be well.” The Ranger smiled again as the boy bit his lip, surprised at the depth of control in one so young. “You are now eight years old, Faramir?”

The boy nodded.

“I saw a large company of men headed eastward. I know not their intentions, Faramir, but I do not think they are friendly. I believe they are men from Tarnost, a part of the traitor’s army. I cannot leave you to warn Indis, but if her numbers are that great, and with the scouts she will certainly send out, I deem her safe. I do not think we are so blessed. Thus – our need for silent travel. I had hoped to camp near here for the night; however, we will continue on. First, I would cover our horses’ hooves to deaden any sound. We will not speak again, unless absolutely necessary, until it is time to camp. Are you at ease with that?”

Faramir smiled and nodded.

“Good.” Aragorn stood up and went to Faramir’s horse, pulled two leather tunics from the boy’s bag, took his knife and cut them into quarters. Faramir’s eyes widened, but he kept quite. Aragorn took the first quarter, wrapped it around his horse’s rear hoof and tied a leather strap around it. He then proceeded to the next hoof and watched in delight as Faramir emulated his movements and encased his own horse’s hoofs with the remaining tunic. When they were finished, Aragorn patted the lad on his back, then motioned for Faramir to mount. They headed north.

Riding slowly so as to keep their progress as silent as possible, they soon reached the spot where Aragorn had planned to spend the night. He had already changed his mind as soon as he had seen the small army. He pulled up and dismounted, waiting patiently while Faramir took his reins and did his duty with the horses and the water. The trees were fewer here and Aragorn could not find one tall enough for his purposes. At last, Faramir returned. Aragorn motioned and they mounted again.

Soon darkness overcame them. Aragorn’s eyes, though sharp, could not see far enough to continue safely. “Faramir, if I remember rightly, there was a landslide here about ten years ago. The shearing of the rock opened a cave. We should be near it. We will spend the night in it, with no fire, and ride out tomorrow. Stay here now, whilst I search for it.”

Faramir shivered and Aragorn held his shoulder. “I will use the peregrine call every few moments so you know I am near. Do not return it. You know the call of the golden eagle. Use that if danger comes near you. Faramir,” he said kindly, “I will not let you be hurt whilst we are on this journey.”

“It is I, as esquire, who should be protecting you, my Lord.” The boy shivered again.

“When we begin training,” Aragorn smiled broadly, “then I will heartily accept your protection, my Esquire. Now, sit amidst that thicket, there are no thorns, and wait for me.”

Faramir nodded and Aragorn was gone before the boy even blinked. Faramir shuddered once again, remembrance of the night alone on the Anduin and the attack of the badger filling his thoughts. He was frightened and had tried to keep it from Strider, but now, alone and in hiding, fear fully assailed the boy and he pulled his knees close to his chest and wept.

~*~

A/N – The duties of an esquire are from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Squire; a furlong is a little more than two American football fields in distance.