My Sword Trembles
by Agape4Rivendell
Chapter 10: Portents and Problems
Once Théoden and Imrahil left Minas Tirith,
life for her Regent became more difficult. If not for the love of
Faramir and the kindness of Théodred, Indis wondered if she could have
survived her first months as Gondor’s Regent.
With Faramir now away on the camping trip, she could put her
undivided attention on the unease she felt growing in Gondor’s army.
She called Ragnhild, her advisor, and Listöwel, her Captain-General, to
her side. Leaning back in the heavy oaken chair that was Denethor’s,
she closed her eyes as they settled themselves in her study. ‘My study.
Yes. I must call it my study.’
“Mayhap you need a leech more, at the moment, than a counselor.”
Ragnhild walked behind the chair and began to massage Indis’ shoulders
and neck.
Indis let her arms fall limp and succumbed to Ragnhild’s ministrations.
“The tea is ready,” Listöwel finally broke the silence.
Indis smiled as her friend placed a steaming cup in front of her.
“We have some grave matters to discuss, my friends. The army, as you
both are well aware, is discontent. I believe some of that discontent
can be placed upon the fact that you,” and she nodded her head towards
Listöwel, “have been named my Captain-General.”
“Not some,” Listöwel laughed dryly.
Ragnhild joined her in laughter. “All!”
“Yes,” Indis rubbed her forehead, “I suppose all. Though the fact that I, a woman, am Regent bears a little blame, also.”
Ragnhild snorted. “I sometimes think if a man of Harad were named
Regent, he would not be as ill-received as having a woman as Regent!”
“I know that well,” Indis sighed.
“Yet, Gondor has had women rulers. I have searched the archives and
have found such instances. You stand on firm ground, Indis. Now, we
need to make it firmer.”
“Thank you, Listöwel. You speak wisely. The Council meetings are a
disappointment, though I should not be surprised. Denethor himself had
difficulties with the lords. Why should it be different for me?”
“Lord Hurluin practically suggested you pack your bags and move to
the Houses of Healing. As if a leech’s work is less important than a
Regent’s!”
“Ragnhild,” Indis laughed for the first time that day, “the noises
you made during his speech were beyond price! Though I do not think it
helped our image.”
“Does a Regent need to be concerned about image? Nay! You need to
be concerned with taking care of Gondor and that is triply difficult if
the lords do not back you!”
“It is the army,” Listöwel broke in, “that needs to back you.”
Indis sobered. “Yes. And so – what do we do about the army?”
“Though we are not in a declared war, we do battle daily against
the Enemy and his forces. Mayhap it is time to call a War Council.
Appoint those captains we know to be loyal, meet once a month, and show
them your expertise. By the Valar, Indis! You are old enough to be
mother to most of them! You counseled Ecthelion himself. And your
brother! Do they not remember that? Are they that foolish to think that
Ecthelion would listen to you if you did not have a firm understanding
of Gondor’s needs and the wisdom to advice him? Remind them of that –
and they will become confident in your rule.”
“Ah, Listöwel, a good suggestion. The War Council. As long as we
remain firm, have them know that they are a council and not a governing
body, but that we value their service, their experience, their
suggestions… A very good idea. Do you have any members in mind?”
“Borondir first!” Ragnhild smiled in appreciation of Listöwel’s
suggestion. “Though he is retired, the men respect him. Ciramir – he is
outspoken and brash, but he was your brother’s advisor. Húrin, though
he is not in the military, if aught happens to Faramir or you, he would
govern until a new Steward or Regent is named.”
“Speaking of which,” Ragnhild interrupted. “Have you thought of
marrying again, Indis? Of trying to conceive. It would do Gondor good
to have another in the line of Húrin just in case.”
Indis’ eyes opened wide in shock. She had just had this very same
argument with Húrin as they broke their fast together this morning. She
had soundly reminded him of her vow to Arciryas. Here again, she must
explain herself. “I am seventy-five! If nothing else, I am
seventy-five.” She swallowed hard. “Though I am of Númenórean blood,
that does not mean I can conceive at this age. I have never heard of
such a thing! And it is the custom of Gondor to have one mate for life.
I do not wish to break that custom. My respect for my late husband
would preclude that.”
Silence greeted her outburst. She finally continued, “Húrin has a
son, just now promoted to captain, who is in the direct line of Mardil.
If aught should happen to… If aught should happen, he should be made
Steward. I spoke with Hurin this very morning and he agreed. As for
Faramir, I have no presentiment that he will not live a long life as
Steward. I do not have the gift of long sight that my brother had, but
I feel it in my bones. Faramir will be Steward, mayhap until the King
comes.”
~*~
Their allotted two days passed quickly. As night fell on the last
day of their adventure, heavy sighs punctuated the air. At last,
Borondir laughed. “If you continue with the sighing, the stars
themselves will not come out. Too frightened to appear. We must go home
tomorrow. I promised Indis.”
“I am sorry. I have had fun. Lots of fun. And I have learned so
much. I never knew about the frogs, the call of the avocet and eagle,
the shorelarks that come down from the north, all sorts of things. I
think my head hurts, I have learned so much!”
Targon laughed. “And I have never cooked so many fish!”
“Oh!” Faramir cried. “We did not save any for the innkeeper. We have to fish again in the morning. We promised.”
“Of course we did.” Borondir looked at the sky. “I am afraid we
will soon not see stars and I am concerned about early morning fishing.
The sky looks like a storm is coming.”
“How can you tell?”
“Look at the moon. There is a circle about it. And look closely at
the maples. Their leaves are curling. Signs like that usually mean a
storm is coming. We might not be able to fish at all tomorrow. In fact,
we might be in for a real drenching. Latch your tent flap tight
tonight, in case the storm hits before morning.”
Faramir wrote this down in his journal. Borondir nodded in
approval. “Now, to bed with the both of you. If the weather is fair, we
want to be up early to fish; if it is foul, we want to be up early to
leave. Sleep well.”
They scrambled into their tent and stayed up giggling until
Borondir slapped the side of their tent. At last, after only a few more
outbursts, they settled. The retired captain of Gondor began to pack
their things. Once again, Durahil stepped out of the shadows. “I have
pulled our pickets in a little closer this night, Captain.” He used the
warrior’s last title in respect. “Since we will be leaving in the
morning, I did not think it wise to have the men spread out too far.”
“The boys want to try fishing for a little again in the morning if
the weather holds. But I agree. Bring the men in. Has there been any
sign of beast or barbarian?”
Durahil smiled at that phrase. “Not many use the word barbarian.”
“Those from Dol Amroth do. For are not all those who give obeisance to the Nameless One barbarians?”
“I will not quibble with you on that point. I go now to set the
pickets. Have a pleasant night.” He saluted and left Borondir, who
banked the fire and retired.
~*~
Faramir woke sometime in the middle of the night and found his way to
the privy they had dug. When he was finished, he threw in a handful or
two of dirt and then went to the river to lave his hands. The fire
glowed dimly, only embers left, but he had no trouble finding his way.
As he stood up, he heard a sound and stiffened. Remembering his terror
at what the soldiers later discovered was a rabbit’s warren that had
spooked him, he smiled and took a step towards his tent. The noise,
however, grew louder. The hairs on the back of his neck lifted, but he
bit his lip and fought down the fear. There were soldiers of Gondor
about. He was safe.
The beast was upon him before he could even think. He tried to sidestep
it and promptly slid in the mud of the riverbank. He strove to right
himself as terror raced through him. ‘Only a rabbit, only a rabbit,’
his mind screamed. But it was a huge badger, eyes aflame and teeth
bared. Faramir had frightened it, had placed himself directly in front
of the burrow where this mother had its cubs. The creature stood its
ground, hissing and spitting furiously. Faramir took a step back and
then another as the beast followed him. The creature lunged, grabbing
hold of Faramir’s arm as he put it up defensively. Suddenly, his foot
slipped again and the cold water of the Anduin took him and the badger.
