The Ring will come to Gondor
by Varda
Chapter Ten: Once it Takes Hold of You
Unexpectedly, Denethor smiled, his stern and angry face relaxing
into an almost gentle expression of indulgence towards the tiny
halfling who stood, hands bound, before the throne of Gondor. In the
great hall there was utter silence; Boromir’s heart pounded almost
painfully in his chest and beside him he heard Faramir say under his
breath;
‘No, Merry, no….’
‘Step closer, master Halfling’ said Denethor in a kindly voice.
’.. and tell me how did such a little one, the least of warriors, intend to kill me, the most powerful man in all Middle Earth?’
‘You must believe me, Lord Denethor’ said Merry loudly and almost defiantly
‘..I was alone in this attempt. No-one advised me or helped me to do it….’
He looked straight at Denethor, who fixed the hobbit with a piercing
gaze. Merry tried to put Gollum out of his mind so that he could
convince the Steward he was telling the truth. But hobbits make poor
liars….
‘Go on..’ ordered Denethor in a non-committal tone.
‘Last night you tried to kill me’ said Merry calmly. ‘and my friend
Peregrine Took as well. Now he is now lost to me, I don’t know where.
We were mere halflings, guests in your city who deserved your courtesy,
not the steel of your swords. I believe that the Steward of Gondor
would never do such terrible deeds, unless he was mad, or driven mad by
some great power for evil that had taken control of him….’
At this uproar broke out in the hall. Boromir could not resist smiling to himself;
‘Good, Merry, well said! They know not what they do when they give a hobbit leave to speak!…’
‘Silence!’ shouted Denethor, his smile gone. He glared at Merry as the hubbub died away and said coldly;
‘This is mere insolence….’
‘Not so, my lord!’ retorted Merry. ‘And I beg you, for your own sake
and that of your family and Gondor, to listen to what I have to say!’
Denethor in spite of himself was silent, waiting. Merry said;
‘We hobbits are not a discourteous folk, whatever else we are. And I am
no assassin. I am of the Fellowship formed by Elrond of which your own
son Boromir is a comrade. That Fellowship was founded to protect the
Ringbearer, Frodo Baggins, in his quest to bring the Ring of Power to
its destruction. Your son Boromir has broken his oath to the Fellowship
and Elrond and taken this Ring from Frodo and brought it to you…’
The hall was still as the stone statues that lined its aisles, everyone
listening with horrified fascination to the halfling’s words…Denethor
was slowly turning purple…Merry went on;
‘The Ring will destroy you, Denethor! Already it has made you plot to
murder guests in your city, and denounce your own son. I saw no other
way, I thought there was no answer to this but to slay you, and so I
set out, with the dagger that I took from the tombs of your fathers.
Forgive me, but the living matter more than the dead…’
Someone cried out in the hall but Merry, feeling a guard snatch at him, rushed on to finish what he was saying….
‘But I could not do it! Not even if it meant the death of all my
friends and the defeat of the West! You are the Steward of Gondor, and
the father of my friend Boromir…’
And here Merry shot a look at Boromir that would have melted the heart of a stone then cried;
‘Only someone who possesses the Ring, or seeks to possess it, could do
such wrong. As you wish to do! Take it off now and throw it away, or
send it back to Frodo, before it is too late, Lord Denethor!’
At last regaining his power of speech the Steward pointed at Merry and shouted;
‘Silence him!’
The guard reached Merry in a few strides and brought the hilt of his
sword down on the hobbit’s head and Merry fell onto the hard white
marble floor and lay as if dead. Despite his bonds Faramir dived
forward to try to avert the blow. Boromir rushed forward too. But
Faramir’s guards had expected some move from their charge and they
seized their prisoner and held him fast, despite his struggles. And
Boromir had barely started forward when he was rudely grabbed from both
sides by the black-clad Tower Guards.
But Boromir was a greater warrior than these palace wardens. His blood
was roused; and although it was death to draw a sword in the presence
of the Steward he shook off his attackers like a wolfhound shakes off a
pack of harassing wolves and drew his great broadsword.
The flash and ring of the bright blade scattered the guards and
everyone else froze. In the sudden silence Boromir shouted at Faramir’s
guards.
‘Let him go!’ and ran over to pick Merry up.
The hobbit was just coming round, and he looked up as Boromir stooped over him and mumbled in a dazed voice;
‘Trust me to say the wrong thing….’
Boromir was about to reply when a loud, harsh laugh echoed round the hall.
‘Very fine! Very touching! We all know what a great fighter you are,
Boromir my son. We all know that you care for this worthless brother of
yours. Now you have made your protest, stand back and hear my judgment!’
Boromir looked up; his father had risen to his feet and was holding out
his hand and on his palm, glinting in the pale sunlight that fell
through the high windows, was the Ring. The Ring that he, Boromir had
taken from Frodo. Boromir’s sword-arm fell and he felt a cold weakness
invade his limbs and heard a strange voice in his head;
‘Once it takes hold of you, it never lets go…’
The guards dashed forward and disarmed Boromir, and he could not resist
them. They seized Merry and pulled him to his feet. They took rough
hold of Faramir, who looked at Boromir in dismay and reproach. And
still Boromir could not move; he was caught in some spell as if in a
spider's web...
With the hall in sudden quiet, Denethor gathered his thoughts.
This was just what he had wished to avoid; the whole city knowing what
he bore. For although many there did not understand what was said, some
would, and others were spies of Mordor. Now Sauron would know, perhaps
within hours, where his great weapon was, and he would put forth all
his strength to reclaim it. Curse the halfling!
Denethor ran his finger over the smooth shiny gold, noticing as always
how it grew warm to the touch almost at once. He smiled; how clever of
the hobbit to try to deflect his attention from Faramir. But Denethor
knew he was part of this treachery. Who else could have led Merry to
the Houses of the Dead….?
‘Hear now my judgement’ he said, and all ears strained to catch his words.
‘My traitor son Faramir I find guilty of plotting with others to slay
his father, and of freeing my enemy, the halfling now at liberty we
know not where. No son of a Steward has ever been put to death for high
treason, nor will you, Faramir. I charge you with the retaking of
Osgiliath, lost by you to the enemy only this winter….’
A gasp ran round the hall; Osgiliath was strongly defended by the
forces of Mordor. It was hopeless to even attack it, far less try to
retake it. Everyone in the hall knew this was Faramir’s death
sentence.....
‘To follow Boromir and the Ring to Minas Tirith…’ said Aragorn quietly
‘..or to follow the Uruk-hai and try to rescue Sam; it is a hard
decision, Frodo, and one which you alone can make….’
Frodo lay staring up at the evening sky, his blue eyes full of tears.
Legolas gazed at the hobbit with compassion, his own eyes glistening
with tears as well. Aragorn spoke at last;
‘Do not decide now, Frodo. You are hurt, and must rest and heal. We
cannot go on, whichever way we choose, for at least a day, perhaps two.
Rest now, and do not decide till tomorrow…’
‘Yes’ mumbled Frodo. ‘I am tired, I will decide on the morrow. I will sleep now….’
Aragorn had given Frodo a warm draught of herbs he had gathered
himself, wishing he had some honey to take off the bitterness, and
Frodo, his pain dulled, had begun to grow drowsy.
‘Yes…’ he said, already half asleep. ‘I will decide tomorrow….’
Gimli took the first watch, then Aragorn the middle watch, when the
winter stars were still far from morning. He sat looking into the dying
embers of the fire, wondering what lay ahead for them now the
Fellowship was broken. He wondered if he should try to advise Frodo,
and what he should say…he started when Legolas touched his arm.
The Elf’s eyes glowed brightly in the dark, more brightly than the
dying fire, but his face was pale and drawn. Aragorn looked curiously
at his companion.
‘Is all well with you, Mellon?’ he asked. Legolas looked away and nodded.
‘Yes, Dunedain. All is well….it is just that I am torn with pity for
the Ringbearer. It is wrong that he must bear so much, after all he has
already endured!’
Argorn nodded sadly.
‘So it often proves, Legolas, that the ones who are bravest suffer the most….’
Legolas did not reply, merely bent his bright head in assent. He said;
‘Go on, Aragorn, get some rest. We must be ready to aid Frodo, whatever choice he makes….’
Aragorn agreed, although he wanted to press his friend further, for he
felt Legolas was not telling him all that was in his heart. Lying close
to the last of the fire, Aragorn rolled himself in his cloak and after
the long day of fighting and pursuit he was quickly asleep….
He woke without being called, and at once started up; why had he not
been roused at the changing of the watch? Instinctively he looked
towards where Frodo lay, and to his relief saw the hobbit still
sleeping soundly. Then he looked for Legolas, but saw only Gimli,
sitting gazing into the dead fire.
‘Gimli!’ he said, hurrying over to the dwarf. ‘Where is Legolas? And why did he not wake me at the end of his watch?’
‘Legolas is gone, Aragorn.’ Said Gimli.
‘Gone?’ repeated Aragorn. ‘Gone where?’
‘He has gone to follow Boromir to Minas Tirith’ replied Gimli.
Aragorn sat down beside Gimli as if struck by an axe.
‘Why?’ he asked the dwarf. ‘And why did you not stop him? Or wake me?’
Gimli sighed.
‘I tried to stop him, Aragorn’ he said gruffly.
‘But he was not to be hindered. He said he could not bear to see Frodo
tormented by this terrible choice, so he was going to take the burden
from him, by following Boromir to Minas Tirith. He said…’
And here Gimli looked straight at Aragorn.’…that one grey-cloaked Elf
at dusk could enter a city where three armed strangers and a slow,
wounded hobbit would never escape notice….’
Gimli fell silent while Aragorn thought this over. He had to admit Legolas was right. Then Aragorn said;
‘Why did you not wake me?’
Gimli shook his head.
‘Legolas made me swear, on our friendship. Aragorn, he was intent on
this course. Even if you had woken, he would still have gone….’
Aragorn nodded. The dwarf was right; he had seen this in the Elf’s eyes the night before. He said to Gimli;
‘Do you know what will happen if he finds Boromir?’ Gimli nodded with a grim face and replied;
‘He will kill him.’
