Tolkien Fan Fiction
| 8 |
| Preparations For War |
| Pippin woke the next morning to find Gandalf still hadn't come in. According to the clock it was half past the first hour of the day, (or seven-thirty as they'd say in the Shire) and remembering he was to report to Denethor at the third hour he got up, washed, downed the small loaf and mug of milk the Gondorim called breakfast and struggled into his new trappings. The mail hauberk weighed on his body as loneliness and apprehension weighed on his spirit. Surely Gandalf wouldn't have gone off without even saying good-bye? Leaving his empty lodging he went up the narrow alley and through the archway between Hall and Tower into the Court of the Fountain, and found it full of Men in sparkling armour with a few clad in worn brown leathers scattered through the crowd. All somber and silent with their eyes on Lord Faramir, standing with a knot of officers under a black banner of the Tree at the foot of the Hall steps. The Steward was nowhere to be seen but Lady Idril was standing alone in front of the great doors, a large golden cup held in both hands. Her collar set with jewels of adamant and pearl and her mantle of silver cloth blazed like the new sun in the pale morning light. Underneath the mantle Pippin saw a sort of apron embroidered with the familiar device of the White Tree under a black sun with golden rays. And on her black veiled head she wore a crown of silver leaves with smaller leaves strung on fine chains and falling to her shoulders. She came down the steps and offered the cup to her brother. Faramir drank and returned it to her, and she moved on to the next Man who did the same. It seemed to be some sort of ritual farwell. The last Man handed the cup back to the Lady and she said something formal in a language Pippin didn't understand. Then they all bowed to her and Faramir turned away, heading for the stair to the lower circles his Men forming a column behind him as they followed. His eye chanced to fall upon Pippin as he passed and he smiled at him. Pippin tried to smile back, not very successfully, and felt his heart moved in way he'd never known before. He'd been a bit afraid of Strider at first, though he'd liked Boromir from the begining, but he'd soon learned to love and trust both of them. What he was feeling now for Faramir was not quite the same. He wanted to go with him, even if it was to certain death. He wanted to stand by this Man, to protect and guard him - which was ridiculous of course, what use would a little Hobbit be? Slowly the Court emptied as the Men followed their captain down the stair. "They go to their deaths." said a sad voice at Pippin's shoulder. He looked up to see Beregond, in his black cloak and silvered armor, standing beside him. The Man's grey eyes went from the soldiers filing slowly down the steps to the Woman standing, glittering, on the Hall steps watching them. "And Idril opposes it and is angered with her brother for going." Pippin looked at the Lady too. Her pale, pointed face seemed quite expressionless to him. "How can you tell?" Beregond smiled a faint, brief smile. "By her garb. Those are the colors and devices of the Kings of Old. To flaunt them is a taunt to the House of the Stewards. I have seen her show her displeasure with father and brothers thus before." The last of the Men disappeared down the stair and Idril turned and went into the Hall. Beregond sighed. "The third hour approaches and the begining of my watch - and of yours too I think, Peregrin?" "Yes indeed!" said Pippin. It wouldn't do to be late. "See you later, I hope." and hurried across the court to the Hall. Inside he found Denethor seated on his throne in the chill white and black starkness, almost as if he hadn't moved since the day before. His six gentlemen in waiting were also there - standing quietly between the great columns upholding the vault. The Steward greeted him with a smile as he made his bow. "Good morrow, my liege, I trust you slept well?" "Very well thank you, my Lord," Pippin answered politely. Denethor gestured for him to sit on the steps of the throne and continued. "One of your duties as my esquire, Peregrin Took, is to beguile my moments of leisure with songs or talk." he smiled again at the suddenly alarm in Pippin's face. "I have heard you sing - now I would hear your traveller's tales. Tell me of my son! Not of his death but of the months you journeyed together." "Well," Pippin began, "we met at Rivendell. Boromir was good enough to take special notice of us from the very begining - though I'm afraid Merry and I led him quite a life!" He was careful to say nothing about the purpose of their journey - and Denethor didn't ask. Pippin was even more careful to mention Strider as little as possible, but it proved surprisingly pleasant to talk about Boromir and relive the early, happy days of their friendship. His tales were interupted several times by Men come to confer with the Lord Steward and again in early afternoon when the gentlemen in waiting brought back the table and laid it for lunch, but this time with two chairs. The second was meant for Lady Idril now dressed, plainly for her, in dark green velvet and smelling faintly of horse. The minute he laid eyes on her Pippin saw Beregond was right; Idril was angry, very angry, with her father as well as her brother. But Denethor didn't seem angry with her in return. There was certainly nothing apologetic in his manner but he clearly didn't want a fight - though Idril showed herself very ready to pick one. She had, it seemed, spent the morning riding round the townlands outside the City; collecting provisions and having them brought within the walls, and finding quartering for the people and their animals in the lower circles. "It would be better for the Women and children, inside the City as well as without, to take refuge in Lossarnach and so spare us the need to feed and shelter them." said the Lord Denethor. "I have proposed it." his daughter answered. "And recieved a firm refusal almost every time." "If you were to set the example and lead them - " he began, and was interupted. "I will do no such thing." she answered roundly, with blazing look. "If Minas Tirith falls then neither Lossarnach nor the mountain fastnesses will be any refuge and I will not be dug from my burrow like a fox or badger! I am a daughter of Anarion, though on the left-hand side, and I will die in my father's City, if die I must." That seemed to settle that. Denethor turned the subject to the rationing of food. **** The afternoon passed much as the morning had. But when Pippin was dismissed, at the same hour as yesterday, he was instructed to return that evening, the second hour after sundown, for further duty. As he'd hoped Beregond had lingered, waiting for him. "My wife plans an early dinner today, I hoped you might share it with us, Peregrin." "I'd love to." Pippin said with genuine fervor. He'd like nothing better than to get out of this grim fortress with its troubled cross currents for a while! |