My Sword Weeps
by Agape4Rivendell
Chapter 17: Ripples
“Would you please repeat what you told
me in the Great Hall?”
“My father was approached by Lord Amandil two summers ago, during the
feast of Loëndë. I was not privy to that conversation as I
had been
esquired out to Prince Adrahil the summer before. My sister, Gilmith…”
He smiled shyly at Ragnhild, “is an eaves dropper. They met in Calembel
in my father’s home. A Lord Dagnir, from Tarnost, was there also. They
spoke long into the night of Lord Denethor. At times, Gilmith fell
asleep and missed some of what was said, but she wrote to me
immediately afterwards. They spoke of replacing Lord Denethor,” the
boy’s face coloured, “with someone else, someone who upheld their own
views of what was good for Gondor.”
Tears began to flow as the boy realized the consequences of his words.
“There was no talk of murder, at that time, but later, last summer,
Lord Amandil came again, along with Lord Dagnir, and spoke of how they
would wrest the Rod from the Steward.” His chin shook.
“I am at fault myself, my Lord. My Lady. I should have brought this
knowledge to your father immediately. I could not decide what to do. I
hoped that my father would see the wrong of what they had planned,
would tell Lord Amandil that he wanted no part of the treachery, but
father never did. I waited and waited for a missive from Gilmith saying
that father had changed his mind, but the missive never came.” The boy
gulped loudly. “I am turning myself over to your judgment, my Lord. I
should have done something and now it is too late.”
Ragnhild silently wept.
“Were there any others involved, that you know of?” Prince Imrahil
asked quietly, trying to settle his stomach at the wretched news.
“Nay, my Lord. There were only two meetings that I know of and only
three Lords were involved. There may have been more in Minas Tirith
itself, but father never took Gilmith with him when he visited the
City.”
“It took great courage to come to me with this information. Late
does it come, but better late than never. Your father and Lord Dagnir
cannot be allowed to continue. They will breed dissension and
treachery; they are entrapped by it.”
He stood up and walked towards the guard. Nodding, the man left.
Imrahil turned around. “Lord Aglahad has reported your progress to
Prince Adrahil. He has been most impressed." He paused and looked long
at the lad. "I must hold your father here in Minas Tirith until the
Lady Indis returns. You may return to your duties in Edhellond.”
The boy looked haggard. “I cannot leave my father here alone. I
have no elder brother and our land lies without a leader. Yet, I cannot
return.”
“Prince Adrahil will govern your land in your father’s stead. I
have sent an errand-rider to Dol Amroth. Someone loyal to Gondor will…”
“My father is loyal!” the boy cried. “He is loyal to Gondor. He was
misled. He believed the action they took was for Gondor.”
Ragnhild stood. “I have seen great wisdom in your words, Angbor.
But now, you speak folly. Your father cannot use Gondor’s weal as an
excuse for what he has done. There is a council in Gondor. Your father
was part of it. He had every opportunity to bring his concerns to the
council.”
“But Lord Denethor will not listen to anyone!” the lad shouted. “That
is what I have heard.”
“Hush, boy!” Imrahil spoke sharply. “The Steward was my great
friend and mentor. You know not what you speak. Keep your tongue until
you have seen and heard with your own eyes and ears!” Bitterly, he
walked away from the boy, anger still smoldering in his heart.
Angbor stood tall. “Mayhap I spoke hastily. I do not… I did not know
Lord Denethor. I only know what I have heard.” He took a shaking
breath. “Things I have heard from your own father!”
Imrahil stopped his pacing. He looked towards Ragnhild and saw that
she remembered their discussions about the feud between Denethor and
Adrahil. He took a breath and turned towards the boy.
“Your training has not yet taught you wisdom, though you have
certainly learned courage. One must take the words one hears and sift
them, strain them until the dross is purged and steel has appeared.”
He sat down on the chair next to Angbor. “Your loyalty to your
father is misplaced, I am sorry to say. You are of an age to be able to
discern for yourself what is right and what is wrong. Is it right to
forcibly take something from a man who has been rightfully titled? Is
it right to murder someone because they do not share your views? Is it
right to destroy a kingdom for your own personal gains? That is what
Lord Amandil did and he dragged your father with him. There is no
excuse for what Lord Amandil has done. And there is no excuse for your
father. He committed treachery, treason and murder.”
He laid his hand upon the boy’s knee. “When we start something, it
is like throwing a pebble into water. The pebble’s first splash is
noisy, but short-lived. In this instance, the pebble’s wake, the waves
that flowed from its splash, continued on.
‘Lord Denethor was murdered. But the treachery did not stop there. Lord
Boromir was murdered also, along with men from Rohan and Gondor. Stout,
doughty men that Gondor can ill afford to lose. And now, Gondor is
weakened by your father’s actions. We have no Steward. Lord Faramir, if
you do not know, is held in some stupor, some daydream from which he
cannot awaken. Because of your father, Belfalas, which I know you love,
is also weakened, for I am here and unable to do my duty to my father
and my land. Lamedon is also weakened.
"The Dark Lord is sitting in his stronghold and laughing at us.
Aye, Angbor, laughing at us. And plotting ways to use this treachery to
attack and destroy all that we love.”
Angbor had quietly begun to weep.
Imrahil continued his reproof. “I do not expect you to agree with me.
Will that turn your heart to murder?”
Angbor’s eyes opened wide. His mouth formed an ‘o’ and he sobbed, “I
would not murder you, my Lord!”
“I trust you, Angbor. It is not my duty to pass judgment on your
father. At least, not at this time. He will stay here in Minas Tirith
until the Lady Indis passes judgment. She is the Regent now, until Lord
Faramir recovers. I am just her humble servant.”
He stood and raised Angbor with him. “Will you also serve, Angbor?”
