The mercenary Thorongil had been delighted to find an intellectual equal in the Steward’s heir. They swore brotherhood one night after together repulsing assaults by orcs and Dunlendings on the borderlands in Anórien and then enjoying a convivial evening over a bottle of fine wine while exploring the local lord’s surprisingly interesting library.
“One day I will take you to meet my family,” he’d promised.
“I will hold you to that!” Denethor answered.
However, suspicions of Thorongil’s intentions, motivations, and lineage had widened the rift between them caused by Denethor’s growing envy.
No, friend, I will never take you home.