CHAPTER TWO: LEGACY OF THE ANOR STONE
"I know Faramir's uses and they are few." He overheard the conversation between his father and brother on that fateful day among the ruins of Osgiliath. That was the last time that Faramir saw Boromir alive. What a difference in Denethor's attitude from the loving father in the letter Gorthol bore to the denigrating and belittling man with little respect for his younger son. What had happened in the intervening years to cause Denethor such disappointment?
Clarity at last! Faramir finally realized that the palantir was the culprit. The Anor stone. Faramir had long suspected his father had uncovered the ancient device and that it was slowly driving Adar mad. In his youth, Faramir had studied any information about the seeing stones of Numenor that he could find in the libraries of Minas Tirith. When those sources were exhausted, he received even more illuminating annals from Gorthol himself, on condition that Faramir keep their existence secret.
Perhaps in the end Denethor feared that his younger son might, with encouragement from Mithrandir and possibly help from Boromir, wrest away the Anor stone from his embattled father?
Gorthol should know more. Fortunately, the old man was visiting his grandchildren on the fifth level for a few days and had agreed to meet Faramir for lunch.
*****************************************************
"The Tower staff don't want to go up on the tenth floor," Hurin the Tall insisted when Faramir inquired as to whether the contents of the Tower's sole room had been inventoried since Denethor's death. The Keeper of the Keys joined Faramir and Gorthol at a small pub in the Citadel. "I haven't pressed them," Hurin continued. "We've been so busy carrying out the reoganization that the king and yourself have ordered. We haven't inventoried many of the lesser-used rooms. The Guards do go up there, though, to clean the hallway."
That was strange, Faramir thought. He said, "The White Tower cleaning staff doesn't clean that floor?"
"They haven't since Lord Denethor's day," Hurin explained. "As I recall, your father insisted that among my Tower staff only the Guards were allowed on the top floor. Since the Coronation, I've had the Tower Guards clean the hall once a week and patrol it daily. Maglor has the duty, at noon."
"My father has been dead more than half a year," Faramir spoke slowly. "It's time to return the responsibility for cleaning the top floor hall to the cleaning staff. The guards have more pressing duties, wouldn't you agree?"
Hurin cleared his throat and said, "The cleaning folk are afraid."
"Of what?" Faramir asked. Did the top floor's frightening reputation persist even though Denethor was dead and the Anor stone silent?
"Of the ghost in the Observatory," Gorthol interrupted. "What a bunch of nonsense that is. My grandson painted the rooms on the third floor recently and had his earful of the most ridiculous stories. He was full of 'em last night. It's people's imaginations. The peculiar doings that happened when your father was alive kept their tongues wagging and their minds off living in the shadow of the Enemy. Life's become too quiet for 'em, so the tongues are wagging again."
"And why haven't I heard all the wagging?" Faramir spoke calmly, masking his concern.
"You are the Steward. You and I have matters of much greater importance to discuss than whether the Tower staff fears to clean a room," Hurin groaned.
"But now it's gravely important to find out if anyone has been in the Tower Observatory since my father was last there," Faramir pressed him.
"No one has," Hurin continued patiently, though Faramir perceived that the Keeper of the Keys felt unfairly pressured. "The door was locked," Hurin said. "Denethor never gave anyone, including me, a key to that door. Round about the time of Elessar's coronation, we tried to spring the lock to take inventory. Ecthelion I must have had master lock smiths working on it. We couldn't break the lock."
Old Gorthol banged his hand on the heavy oak table, "You have a key now. Lord Denethor's left a key with me, which I gave to Faramir yesterday. This business of ghosts is ridiculous, I tell you."
"Something is up there," Hurin insisted. "Don't tell me that ghosts don't exist. Aragorn Elessar led an army of them into Minas Tirith. They saved our city. Maybe one of those green spirits is stuck in the Tower?"
"Pure bunk," Gorthol snorted. Faramir chuckled, though the mention of Aragorn's ghostly army gave him pause.
Hurin whispered, "One night I stood in the room under the Tower Observatory, as you call it, Captain Gorthol. The chief of the cleaning staff insisted I do it. Sure enough, I heard the rustling and movement on the ceiling."
"The wind!" Gorthol scoffed. The entire dome in the ceiling is made of windows. If one of them is opened or cracked, the wind howls through the room. The wind is so strong in that room that it easily blows light stuff around. That's probably what you heard rustling."
"Did my father let you in that room" Faramir queried the old guardsman.
Gorthol said, "Many times, always during the day. That observatory was a lovely room long ago. It was already needing repair last time I saw it. Old Denethor didn't allow us in at night, when he used the palantir."
"You mean Stewards before Lord Denethor used the Anor stone?" Hurin shook his head in apparent disbelief. "I thought only the great ones could control what they saw in one of those stones. That's why I never quite believed the rumors that Denethor used a seeing stone."
"Of course the Stewards looked into the stones, and probably more than the kings ever did," Faramir said. "We are of the blood of Anarion, just like the kings, but our line is more diluted. We're slightly less "great." Back when Gondor was young, the kings appointed the Steward to use the palantir and report findings." *
"I didn't know that," Hurin said. "How'd you find that out?"
"I was curious about the palantiri when I was in my teens. I read everything I could find on the subject," Faramir explained. He did not mention the decomposing annals that Gorthol had given him long ago.
"So now that you have the key, will you open the Tower Observatory and see what's in there?" Hurin asked.
Faramir nodded, "This evening I plan to unlock the door and see if the Anor stone still exists. I'm not afraid that any strange properties the stone might have will drive me mad. Sauron and Angmar are gone. If someone else tries to control the Anor stone while I am using it and reveals ambitions to become the next Dark Lord, it is better to find out now than fall victim to a surprise attack."
Hurin drew his hand through his hair, obviously distressed. "You're missing the point, both of you! Something or someone is up in that Observatory that has nothing to do with any seeing stone--a spirit that could be malevolent or benign. I'm concerned for your safety, Faramir, starting from when you walk into that room. What happens to you from looking at the Anor stone is far less of my concern."
**************************************************
The remainder of the meal was strained. In the end, Hurin accepted Faramir's decision to open the Tower Observatory that evening at dusk. Faramir insisted that his decision remain a secret. No one was to know his true purpose, other than Hurin, Gorthol, and Marod, Captain of the Tower Guards.
At their return to the White Tower, Hurin left for his office. Faramir and Gorthol returned to the Steward's quarters. Faramir could remain silent no longer. "How is it that you know so much about the Anor stone, and that you had access to those annals you gave me when I was young?" he suddenly directed his interrogator's stare at Gorthol.
The old man jumped, no doubt from the abruptness of Faramir's stinging inquiry. Then he relaxed and explained: "It was my job, my Lord Steward. I was trained as your grandfather Ecthelion's warden of the palantir. The Stewards always appointed a warden to assist them. The warden had to learn all the history of the stones and was responsible for guarding the secret annals kept over the years about the palantir's use. Yes, I had to know the lore, and I still remember plenty of it.
"When Ecthelion died, I became Lord Denethor's warden of the palantir, long before I became Captain of the Tower Guard. I had every right to give you the ancient annals because I was in charge of them--AND because your father ordered me to do it. Do you remember in the annals how the secrets of the palantir were kept only by the Steward, the warden, and the Steward's heir? I found it strange that Denethor chose to overlook your brother, his heir, and instead chose you as his successor to the palantir."
Faramir nodded. All the peculiar pieces in the puzzle of his father's madness continued to fit together.
"At some point, Lord Denethor seemed to trust me less and less," Gorthol continued. "He sent me off into retirement at a much younger age than I would have wanted. To my knowledge, he never appointed another warden of the palantir."
When Gorthol seemed to be finished, Faramir said,"I wish you could come with me this evening when I open up the Observatory. "But I doubt you could climb the ten flights of stairs today."
A regretful expression formed on Gorthol's mouth. "I could help explain much in the room, if it hasn't changed in the past twenty years. However, I can't protect you from a ghost." he winked.
******************************************************
Faramir was less skeptical about the claims of ghostly occupation of the Observatory than Gorthol. He suspected that he could find a logical explanation of the bizarre bangings in the night. The thought of a confrontation with a spectre definitely captured his imagination. Nevertheless, Faramir's highest priority this evening was to find the box that held the palantir, as described in his father's note. Still, he felt compelled to hear more stories about the alleged ghost from others who claimed to have seen or heard it.
This insatiable curiousity led Faramir to the cleaning staff's giant store room, where he found Lilah, chief of the staff, at her station amid the linens, mops, and buckets.
"No, My Lord Steward, we never go up there," Lilah said when Faramir asked her if she ever went to the top floor to clean or patrol. "Your father, of blessed memory, would not let us clean the top floor. He said that was the Guards' job; I say, I hope they did their jobs, else the floors would be filfthy after all those years. No one wants to go up there. It's haunted, people say."
"Haunted? Come now, Lilah. Has anyone ever seen a ghost on the top floor?"
"Yes! And I'm surprised you haven't heard the story," Lilah exclaimed, her eyes brightly animated. "Some of the folk who work here in the Tower late at night say they've seen a ghostly figure in the windows, waving its arms."
The image was hair raising but not very convincing. "Where were these folk standing when they claimed to have seen the ghost?" Faramir asked mildly.
"Why, I don't know," Lilah admitted, "especially since I haven't seen the ghost meself. I expect that they were standing in the plaza."
"Then I expect their eyesight to be very good indeed, if they can see a ghost in a window ten flights up," Faramir remarked.
Lilah put her hands on her hips, "Begging your pardon and all, my Lord Steward, as I said I didn't see the haunt myself. More important, the folk on my staff say they hear things, too--howlings, scrapings in the walls, banging, footsteps at night. My people who work on the ninth floor have told me that. They say it's the ghost of Lord Denethor. His body never was found."
Faramir gulped. "I expect it never will be found. The guards told me his body burned up as he fell."
Lilah shivered before continuing, "Lord Denethor, he'd close himself up in that room. I had the night watch then. I heard him screaming at someone or something more times than I can count. It got terrible in the end. We thought poor Lord Denethor battled in his mind with the Dark Lord himself. It took a toll on me. I couldn't continue. These past few years, Bes does the night watch. She's heard all sorts of sounds coming from that top room. People says that Lord Denethor's spirit had nowhere to go since all that's left of him is ashes. So his spirit came back to that Tower room."
Faramir thought grimly, If that's the case, then I will meet my father's spirit tonight. Perhaps he can give me some tips about how best to look into a palantir.
********************************************
Author's Note
* Like many other tidbits of palantir lore in this story, the Steward's use of the palantir during the reigns of the Gondorian kings is taken from Tolkien's essay "The Palantiri" in Unfinished Tales
See the Author's Note for the previous chapter of "Dead Steward's Gift" for an explanation of the setting for this particular story.