24. The Council Meets
Boromir stirred.
Éomund locked
the door again and hid the key under the cot's leg. Théodred had
woken as soon
as he felt Boromir move. He looked up, hopefully, to Éomund. "Is
he
waking?"
"Oh!" Another moan, then Boromir's hand moved, ever so slightly.
"Boromir," Éomund called softly, but before the boy could
respond,
the door opened. Éomund cursed quietly. 'Too late.'
"Move, else I move you myself," the churlish voice called out from
the door. "Back away from the boy, now!"
Éomund took Théodred's hand and, pulling the struggling
boy with him, moved
towards the other end of the cell. 'I cannot let him take Boromir,' he
thought
furiously. 'But how can I stop him?'
He watched as the man walked into the room. Ideas flew through his
head. Then
he heard a noise by the open door. Three more men stood outside. He had
not
noticed them. It would have been hard enough, with his wounds, to take
one; he
could not take three. He placed Théodred behind him; else they
might consider
taking him also.
"You're a smart man," their captor noted as Éomund moved away
from
him. "We will take this one and bring food in his stead. Now doesn't
that
sound nice?" The men in the doorway laughed.
"Leave him here. He is still drugged. He is of no use to you."
"Nay," the man laughed again, "The drug wears off. He is waking.
I know how to give just the right amount. I am a wizard, you see!" And
the
men at the door laughed uproariously at the joke. He picked up Boromir,
threw
him over his shoulder, and walked out. The door was closed and locked
behind
him.
Éomund slipped to the floor in despair.
~*~
"You are ready to see your brother, now?" Amandil asked him.
Boromir's head hurt and he couldn't remember having put on new clothes.
Yet,
here he stood with his good black tunic on emblazoned with the White
Tree, and
clean hose and dress boots. When had he changed? His mouth tasted
horrible. The
last thing he remembered was drinking some wine. What was the man
saying to
him?
"I said, you are ready to see your brother, now?"
"Oh! Yes! Please! Where is he?"
"First, we have that favour you were going to do for me, before I let
you
see your brother."
Boromir looked at him in confusion. "I do not understand."
Amandil smiled. 'It will be most easy to have the lad speak the words I
want,'
he thought. 'He can hardly remember his name!' He took Boromir by the
shoulder
and squeezed it lightly. "You remember. You promised you would speak to
the Lords of Gondor about our arrangement."
Boromir stood for a moment, dazed.
"Do not be concerned, Lord Boromir. I have written the words you are to
say. Now, would you be so kind as to come with me to the Council's
chambers?
They are waiting for you."
Boromir followed the man down the hallway and into the Great Hall.
Turning to
the left, they entered the Council's chambers. Boromir stopped for a
moment,
trying to get his bearings. Before him sat many of Adar’s friends. He
did not
understand. How could they let this man take his Adar's chair?
Amandil pushed him forward. "My Lords," he said graciously.
"Have I not told you that Lord Boromir would speak with you? Here he
is,
ready to answer your questions, but first, he has prepared a speech. If
you
would give him the courtesy to listen." He thrust a sheet of parchment
into Boromir's hands.
"Lords of Gondor," Boromir started haltingly, "friends and
counselors of my father." He stopped for a breath and felt a knife's
point
in his back as Amandil leaned over, pretending to show him his place on
the
sheet. "It is my right and privilege," Boromir continued, "as
Heir to the Steward, to do with the Rod as I will. I deem myself too
young for
this position, and also, not willing to take it upon myself. Therefore,
I have
asked the Lord Amandil, counselor and friend of my father's, to assume
the Stewardship
and all the rights and privileges that belong to it." Boromir choked on
the words and started coughing violently. The knifepoint dug deeper. He
put the
paper down and spoke. "My father loved many of you. I hope you will
remember that in the days ahead. Thank you." He bowed, turned and
walked
back through the door.
"I am so very sorry, my Lords, but it seems that the Lord Boromir has
been
taken by grief and will not answer your questions. Please, come to me
with any
questions you might have and I will do my best to answer them. Thank
you for
coming today. You may now leave." With that, he turned and followed
Boromir out the door.
As soon as he reached the hall and the guards had closed the Council's
door,
Amandil grabbed Boromir by the shoulder and swung him around, slapping
him
soundly across the face. "Do not ever say anything unless I say you
may!
Do you understand?"
Boromir nodded, but his heart felt lighter. He hoped someone on the
Council
understood his last words.
~*~
"Stand straight!" Faramir swayed a little to the left and the man
struck him on the back.
"Ow!" Faramir cried out. "Please, my shoulder."
"When your brother arrives, you will not move. Do you understand me?
You
will sit very tall and straight in this chair and answer all his
questions with
a yea or a nay." He took Faramir's chin, tilting it so the boy was
forced
to look at him. "Do you understand?"
"Aye." Faramir sat before he fell.
"Ah! That is a good lad. Now remember. You feel fine. You took a
stumble
in Rath Dínen and hurt your shoulder. But you are fine. You want
to visit your
uncle, but you will miss your brother."
"Aye."
"Good." The man signaled to the guard. "Tell Lord Amandil that
we are ready for him."
Faramir swayed a little in the chair again, but the man’s back was
turned and
he did not notice. The boy put his hand on the arm of the chair and
closed his
eyes. A tear slid down his face. He batted it away with his sleeve. He
could
not cry. They said they would kill Boromir if he cried. His head hurt
terribly
and his tongue clung to the top of his mouth. "May I have a glass of
water?" he whispered.
The man whirled about, anger evident on his face, but Boromir stepped
through
the door at that exact moment.
He saw Faramir immediately and started to run towards him when a hand
grabbed
him, hard, and pulled him up short.
"You must remember. Your brother was hurt before we found him and must
stay seated. You may approach him, but do not get too close. He had the
fever
and we would not want you to sicken also."
Boromir nodded his head and walked slowly towards Faramir noting the
ugly wound
on his brother's forehead and his arm in a white sling. "Little
brother," he said. "I have missed you. Are you well? Are they taking
good care of you?"
"Aye, Boromir, I am well." Faramir’s guard took a step forward and
Faramir jerked.
"I have seen you look better, Faramir. That was a nasty fall, was it
not?"
"Aye," Faramir said, his eyes shifting towards the guard. He saw the
knife behind the man's back and his breath hitched. "I want to go to
Dol
Amroth," he blurted out quickly, "to live with Uncle Adrahil."
"Of course, Faramir," Amandil broke in. "You will be leaving
this afternoon."
"He looks too weak to leave so soon!" Boromir protested.
"We have arranged for a cart. He will sleep on the way and arrive
refreshed and well in Belfalas."
"Faramir?" Boromir tried to read his brother's eyes, but they were
too full of pain and fear for him to know what he was thinking. "I bid
you
farewell, my brother. I hope to see you soon. I will try to come for
your birth
celebration, if I may?"
"I would like that very much." Faramir's mouth began to quiver.
Boromir knew he must leave, else he would start crying, too, and then
Amandil
would carry out his threat and have Faramir killed. "I will leave you
now.
Give my regards to our uncle." He bowed, turned and left the room.
Biting
his inner cheek so hard it bled, he walked as fast as he could away
from
Amandil.
"Stop, young Boromir," the man said pleasantly. "You have done
well. In fact, you have done so well that I have decided to allow you
to return
to your own quarters. There will, of course, be a guard on your door,
but you
may rest there and recover from your ordeal. When I need you, I will
know where
to find you."
Boromir ran out of the Great Hall and stood, retching miserably against
the
marble wall. A guard had followed him, pulled him from the wall and
pushed him
towards the Citadel. Boromir ran up the stairs to his own rooms, locked
the
door behind him, and fell to the floor, sobbing.
