Chapter 7 ~ Muster
Faramir lined his commanders up before him. Each was a proven fighting man, and each had the scars to show it. Two of his own sons would be going to battle, Narion and Celvandil, and also his grandson Belecthor. He himself would remain in Ithilien to prepare the rest of his army for a possible attack on Ithilien itself from the South. Now that Eradan had confirmed or denied all the rumors that floated throughout the fiefdom, the Steward was able to prepare accordingly.
Word had been sent to Prince Legolas and his people to prepare themselves, and the messenger had returned bearing thanks from the kind Prince. Faramir had no doubt that any Southron who dared set foot in the realm of the Son of Thranduil would regret it soon after.
"My Lords," he began at last, meeting the gaze of each man in turn, "you know your duties. You are all veterans of many battles and, I trust, you shall again win a victory for Gondor.
"Celvandil, you have been slightly foolhardy ever since childhood, and I pray you shall listen to the council of others before again risking all as you did in the last battle." His son flushed slightly, but made no protest. After all, the unplanned charge had won them the victory, but it had also risked a great deal. Even he now saw the danger of such a move.
"Narion," Faramir continued, "you have done well as a commander, and I am proud of you and your brother, but I must warn you. It has been brought to my attention that you remain ever at the front, and that it nearly cost you your life in Rohan. You were not even to have been in that battle, and yet you returned with a broken leg and a wonderful horse dead. Take care in the coming fight. Lead your men, but do not risk over much in the process."
"Yes, Father."
"Belecthor," Faramir said, standing before his grandson and looking him in the eye, "you have grown much since you first entered battle, and you have matured wonderfully. But like your uncle, you are overeager and do not always listen to caution. Take time to contemplate your moves, for the lives of many hang in the balance." He placed his hand on the young captain’s shoulder. "But I am proud of you. Take care."
He addressed each of his commanders, giving them advise and encouragement before again speaking to them all. "You know what we risk in this battle. All of Gondor is threatened, and it is up to you to bring aid to our King. Go now, and prepare your men. Farewell."
All bowed and moved off, each in his own direction, to do as he was bidden. There were many farewells to be said and still much to do.