Chapter 10
Nights Of Deceit
by Beryll
(Faramir POV)
I hate dungeons. They are cold, dirty, clammy and smell of fear, despair and death. There is just one thing I hate more and that is visiting a dungeon because of the stupidity of somebody else. I looked at my aid walking beside me, noting the obvious discomfort on his face. He knew as well as I did, that he was said somebody and would suffer for his failure.
It wasn't really his fault, of course. It was the fault of a governing system so oppressive, it kills any kind of independent thinking. The fault of my father, who is so paranoid he distrusts his own shadow. The fault of my brother, who is so susceptible to his own passions, he never thinks clearly. And last but not least my own fault, for knowing all these facts and still not preparing well enough to avoid situations like these.
At least my spies watching my father's moves had proved useful. When I had come home from Dol Amroth this afternoon, they had already been waiting for me with their dire news. The information they brought was - weird - to say the least. I know my father is wandering the edge of madness but this...
He can't honestly believe, my brother has found a true heir to the throne of Gondor and plans to put him on the throne to govern through him. He should know, my dear brother Boromir is not intelligent enough to come up with a plan as complex as that. More over, he just wouldn't bother. He would kill father and take the throne for himself. But he wouldn't even do that. He's much too scared of father.
But that is what my father thinks and so he has ordered his guards to secretly arrest and dispose of my brother, as soon as he shows his face in Minas Tirith again. And my spies overheard.
Which brings up a handful of interesting questions. Foremost: Where is my brother? A question that should be easy enough to answer but proved surprisingly difficult. All I was able to learn - and all my father knows - is that he left in a hurry three days ago, looking rather angry, not telling anybody where he was going and that his slaves have disappeared as well.
Which brings up question number two: Before I left for Dol Amroth he had one slave. A body servant, who has served him for years. In the two weeks I was gone, he seems to have acquired two more. One is an elf, he brought home in the night after we were celebrating my birthday. As I don't really remember anything that happened that night after dinner with our father, I have no idea, where he picked up that one.
The other one is the one, my father thinks is the heir to the throne. I really wonder where he got that idea. As far as I was able to find out, his name is Aragorn and he was arrested together with a dwarf, because the dwarf is suspected to be connected with the rebels, that sometimes make trouble in Minas Tirith.
Normally it is my duty to deal with rebel activities and I have spent quite some time and energy on finding and eradicating them. So it should have been my job to question the prisoners. But I was in Dol Amroth so they brought my brother into it. Imbeciles.
And my dear brother picked out this Aragorn and decided to keep him as his personal fuck-toy. At least, that's what I think. My father is convinced, that Boromir recognized him as the heir of Isildur and therefore kept him. And when father has set his mind on something, there is no way of changing his opinion. He has not even tried to gather more information. Just signed my brother death warrant. What a lovely thought that Boromir is the son he likes...
Which brought another unpleasant fact to my attention. Father has a... let say rather unhealthy infatuation, where Boromir is concerned. I am pretty sure, that father looks at him with the calculating, greedy eye of a lustful old man much more often, then the pride of a father. Or has looked.
The likelihood that this attention will now turn to me is disturbingly high. Something I would very much like to avoid at all costs. To be fancied by your own father... The thought alone made shivers of disgust run down my spine.
I was not really in doubt, what I would do regarding Boromir. He might be an idiot sometimes and violent, ill-tempered and dangerous on top. But he still was the only person I could truly trust and I knew he loved me, so there was no way I was going to let him die. There might very well come a day, when I needed his strong sword arm desperately.
What really interested me is who this Aragorn guy is. So that brought me down here to this disgusting dungeon to have a look at the only person who might know something worth my while. The dwarf he was captured with.
And it brought me back to the reason I felt like kicking the lights out of dear old Gandalf, walking next to me. There might have been a remote possibility to get some useful information out of that dwarf, if I had gotten my hands on him to question him myself. Before anybody else did and awakened the typical 'dwarf-stubbornness'.
But it was too late for that now. Gandalf had failed to intervene in time. I had studied the reports from the torturer who had worked on him. He had noted an incredibly high ability to withstand pain. And later, that the dwarf didn't respond to any kind of treatment anymore. Just great. I really wonder how people like that get their jobs. Shouldn't it be mandatory for a professional torturer to know, that you cannot force a dwarf to speak with pain. You can trick him or bribe him but as soon as you just try to force him you have lost the case.
Sadly this particular dwarf was the only one, who might know anything about my brother’s dangerous plaything. So I had to try to loosen his tongue. Even if my chances were nil.
Again I found myself wondering about that human that had caused so much trouble already. The only thing I had been able to find out about him was that he was extremely noisy, when he was fucked by my brother. Or so the servants I had questioned had told me with somewhat guilty expressions on their faces. So they were spying on my brother... what did I care?
Gandalf motioned me down another staircase. Where were they keeping this accursed dwarf anyway? I sent him another scolding look and he ducked.
At last we reached one of the many, many iron doors that was only distinguished from all its brethren by the torturer standing before it, looking rather worried at my appearance. He bowed deeply. At least he knew his place. I looked him over for a while and he actually started to shift from foot to foot. Nice to know that you can have such an effect on people by just staring threateningly.
"So you are the one who worked on the dwarf?" I asked quite politely. He nodded. I carried on in my conversational tone. "And what gave you the idea to try torture on a dwarf?" He looked to my aid for help who was carefully studying the dungeon walls for cracks.
"Uhm... my lord, I..." "Yes?" I prompted him. ""Actually Prince Boromir told me to torture him for information." He said, obviously telling the truth and being very afraid, because he dared to lay blame on my brother. For a moment I was tempted to punish him for exactly that, but then I curbed my antagonism. At least he had the courage to be truthful.
"My brother told you..." I said quietly. "I had feared something like that." I sighed. What else could I have expected of my brother? "And did you learn anything at all? Besides what you wrote in your report?" He shook his head. "No, your highness. You know, what dwarfs are like..." So he had known and obeyed my brother anyway. Another point to add to my list of complaints of people not thinking clearly anymore when faced with a direct command. I dismissed him with a wave of my hand.
"Well then," I said with another sigh, "let's have a look at him." Gandalf opened the cell door for me and I peered into the dark dungeon cell. Gandalf grabbed one of the torches lighting the hall and shone it into the cell. Still it took a while for my eyes to adjust and to notice the small figure, huddled in one of the corners farthest from the door.
It didn't move, when I entered the cell and walked over, hiding his face in a tangled and dirty mass of hair and beard and behind his bound arms. I looked down at the dwarf and considered a way of approach. He might be badly hurt but that didn't mean he wouldn't attack me at the first opportunity. Still I had to show some kind of compassion to get him to even talk to me.
So I crouched down next to him and gently touched his shoulder. "Master dwarf?" I said, giving my voice that friendly and charming tone I normally use when wooing some serving wench. Carefully I turned him over, so I could get a better look at him.
I almost gasped. Not in shock but in suppressed anger. His face was a bloody ruin. One of his eyes had been burned out, his nose was badly broken and there were deep cuts crisscrossing his face and upper body. A human would have been dead by now. No wonder, they say dwarfs were made to be ceaseless workers.
But he was definitely alive and kicking, for he was glaring at me with his good eye filled with immeasurable hatred. No chance to make him believe I was his friend, it seemed. So I could just as well get down to business. "Master dwarf, I have a question for you. If you answer it truthfully I will let you go free." Of course I didn't plan to do that, but I am very good at delivering convincing lies.
His expression did not change, but I saw a very small spark of hope in his eyes, quickly suppressed. "I only want to know, what you know about the man you were captured with." I continued. "No information about your rebel friends." His thick eyebrows drew together and he eyed me with deep mistrust but awakened curiosity.
"Don't know nothing about him." he grumbled after a moment of thinking. At least the first step was done. He had said at least something. "Ah..." I smiled at him benevolently. "But you were seen traveling together. So you must know at least a bit..." "What ya want with him?" he asked, drawing away from me. "Oh, I do not intend to harm him." I answered, truthfully for a change.
"But my brother seems to be very fond of him, so I want to know..." "He'd never!" I was interrupted by a dwarf looking pretty furious. "Wouldn't betray us to the butcher!" The butcher... he must be referring to my dear brother... And obviously he did know something about this Aragorn.
"I didn't say he enjoyed that attention." I told the dwarf with just a hint of sorrow in my voice. Maybe he'd believe, I really wanted to help him and his friend. He just snorted. "Spare me your pity." he growled. "Know your lying tongue well enough!" Ah... the disadvantages of a reputation.
"So what do you know about the man?" I asked again, growing impatient. The dwarf closed up immediately and I cursed my temper. "You'll hear no word from me." He said, having the audacity to sound smug. And I knew I wouldn't. So I gave in to my urge to slap him hard. Then I got up and left the cell. No use staying in this ugly place longer than absolutely necessary.
*****
About two hours later I was sitting on the windowsill of the big window in my study, looking out over the city and trying to consider my further options. Normally I had no problem focusing my attention on a problem at hand. But this afternoon, watching the white roofs of the city gleam in the early summer sun, I felt my mind drifting.
Back to the last year. Then I had been sitting right in this spot, watching my home with pride. But my thoughts had been much brighter then and I had not been alone with them. A small smile crossed my lips. Seems my brother was not the only one with a questionable taste in mates. Although I considered mine to be my lover rather than a cheap plaything.
Still he was not here with me, instead preferring to roam the wilder part of middle-earth. I had tried to keep him by my side. Tried everything I had in my repertoire. Honeyed words, passionate love-making, angry threats I would not wait for him. And he had just looked at me, smiling, kissing me with all his fervor, till I felt like melting, till I could not deny him anything. Bastard. He knew full well how to play my own desire against me.
He had promised to be back before winter. To spend the winter in Minas Tirith as he had done the year before. And the year before that. And the year before that. But this time he had not come back and I didn't even know if he still lived. For his was a very dangerous life and his occupation even more dangerous. For he was not only my lover, but my eyes and ears in places I could not dare to go, as well.
And should any of the people, who considered him to be one of them - be it rebel, elf-friend, dwarven ally or what ever else lived out there, shunning the rule of Gondor - find out about his liaison with me it would mean a very painful death for him.
Still he needed his freedom and as long as I could spend the cold months with him to warm my bed I was content to grant it. But he had not come back. Damn him. My thoughts kept coming back to that bitter fact. And damn my brother as well. For now he would have to leave me alone as well. Alone with a mad father, out for blood, and a country too big to govern efficiently without granting some measure of independence to the rulers of the bigger cities. Which said mad father adamantly refused. Damn them all.
And damn me too for not being able to go with my lover to get some of his beloved freedom as well. When he came back, I would chain him to my bed and never let him out of eyesight again. That would teach him to keep me waiting for so long. If he came back.
With a deep sigh I watched a chain-gang of dwarfs leave the palace grounds to go work on the battlements. I had ordered them there myself this morning. With Boromir missing, the upkeep of the city-defenses had somehow found their way to my desk.
As I watched them, my thoughts returned to the dwarf in the dungeon. Was there really nothing useful to be done with him? In his condition he could not even be used as a worker. Or could he...?
Suddenly an idea was forming in my mind. Maybe I could still use him to my advantage. Maybe not to learn about my brother's toy. But he might finally give me a lead on the elusive rebels of Minas Tirith. And their leader, who had proven far too intelligent for my tastes in the past.
I called my aid and gave him new orders concerning the dwarf. At first Gandalf looked as if I had gone mad, but when I explained he started to nod and smile. He might be an idiot sometimes and he was still recovering from the beating he had received after our visit to the dungeon. But he genuinely admired my talent for vicious planning. And knew full well what would happen to him, should he ever betray me.
It took till evening to set my plans in motion, but when I got ready to go to bed, I received the news I had been waiting for. The dwarf, who had been assigned to one of the chain-gangs, had mysteriously escaped. It seemed, that his chains had not been fastened correctly. Now how could such a mistake occur...?
I ordered the responsible guards to be thoroughly beaten and told Gandalf I would expect news from the spies the dwarf was being followed by in the morning. It's nice to know, that things work when you do them yourself. Now I just had to hope, that the dwarf wouldn't be intelligent enough to suspect his escape had been arranged. But that was highly unlikely, considering his condition. I knew he would need help and no doubt he knew it as well.
*****
The next morning started with a surprise meeting my father had called. Something about taxes on the slave-trade and the organization of another hunting campaign to get more workers for the mines in the Misty Mountains. Ever since the orcs had started to work the mines of Moria, they were in constant need of dwarven slaves and slowly but certainly we were exhausting the supplies of middle-earth. The ones who had lived at Lonely Mountain had been removed to Moria generations ago and now my father was setting his eyes on the Grey Mountains.
I had told him again and again, we couldn't even govern what we already had, so I didn't try again this time. What I did tell him and the nobles of Gondor and the Uruk-Hai of Minas Morgul was that it would be much wiser to start breeding dwarves instead of trying to capture new ones. That would make them tamer as well. There was a lot of arguing and in the end, it was decided to start a campaign anyway, just for the fun of new bloodshed. That is the problem, whenever there are orcs involved, they can't think truly rational, no matter how much they pretend to be civilized.
It was past noon, when I got back to my study and the report waiting for me. I ordered Gandalf to get a late lunch for me and then curled up on the windowsill again to see if this would lighten my mood. I was not disappointed.
When the dwarf had made his desperate dash for freedom, my spies had almost lost him. It had taken some very skilled maneuvering to stay on this trail without him noticing he was being followed. Still he had been very careful. Taking all kinds of roundabout routes, using the canalization and the roofs to shake off any possible pursuers and showing clearly how well he knew Minas Tirith.
It never fails to amaze me, how much a dwarf can withstand. He must have been impossibly tired, still he had kept his wits. But finally he had led my spies to a rundown house in the lowest circle, where he was let in by an old hag. Additional information gathered in the meantime told me, the woman was considered to be quite mad by her neighbors and therefore given a wide berth.
The dwarf had not come back out, but soon after his going in a small boy had left. Two of my spies had followed him as well to several locations throughout the city. My people where still finding out, who lived there, but the important thing had happened a couple of hours later at the old woman's house.
In the middle of the nights a figure wrapped in a dark cloak had appeared and gone inside. And when said figure had come out again, my spies had glimpsed the red mask he was wearing. So I had finally found him. The rebel-leader of Minas Tirith. The Fox.
My spies had not yet confirmed how he had gotten news that the dwarf was free, but now that we had so much of the rebel network uncovered, that was only a question of time. Even as I read this report, my spies were following the Fox wherever he went, finding his safe-houses, his allies, his contacts. And when I knew everything I needed to know, I would grab this whole rebel-tree and pull it out at the roots.
With a contented sigh I leaned back against the window-frame. Now I just had to make sure my father believed all this was his doing. It would just get me in trouble, if he thought me to be to competent.
My considerations were interrupted by a knock on my door, immediately followed by Gandalf, bearing a lunch tray. I don't know how often I have told him to wait till I tell him he can come in. This is one of the few times, where I have given up on training a servant.
He put the tray down on my desk, looking rather exited. "Your highness?" "Yes?" I asked, not really curious what kind of bad news he was bringing now. "The men you sent out to find your brother have stopped him on the road from Minas Morgul. They have sent word that he is very angry and does not believe a word they say. They don't think they can hold him very much longer."
I sighed. I should have expected something like this. My brother is just too arrogant to believe, anybody - even father - would try to threaten him. I had hoped to stay away from him so my father wouldn't be able to find out that I had helped him, but obviously that was not an option now, if I wanted my brother to live.
I got down from the windowsill. "I will go and tell him myself." I said. "Make sure, nobody knows I have left the city. If anybody asks, I am not feeling well and will not appear at court this evening." And then I put on some different clothes and a concealing cloak, not so unlike to the one the famous fox was wearing and left my study to go save my ungrateful brother's life.
*****
It was a three hours ride to the safe-house where my men had stowed away my brother. It was hidden behind trees and hills only a little way off the paved street leading from Minas Tirith to Minas Morgul. Countless dwarves had worked their hands bloody to build this street but now it was a proud testament to the superiority of humanity and the friendship between Gondor and Mordor.
It was just one of many safe-houses built and maintained by the spy-net I had established throughout all of Gondor and its provinces. This net made sure I always stayed one step ahead of my father, gathering information and removing threats before they could really endanger me.
Father knew of the spy-net. I had leaked information about it carefully, making sure he thought he knew much more then I wanted him to and simultaneously keeping secret what he had no business knowing. One day I would use this useful tool to break his neck. And that day drew nearer and nearer. With my brother gone time was running out for the mad king of Gondor. Because now only he stood in my way to the throne.
I tied the horse before the little inconspicuous house and greeted the man sitting on the porch, smoking a pipe and keeping a watchful eye on the path leading to the house. I had handpicked him to oversee this operation. He was one of the few who could be trusted to keep a level head even in dangerous situations that required independent thinking.
"Your brother is inside, your highness." he reported. "And he is not pleased." I nodded, having expected no less, and went inside.
The view greeting me was something I had not quite expected. My brother sat at the small, roughly hewn table in the middle of the room, an untouched tankard of ale in front of him and was watching the other three occupants of the room with a decidedly strange expression on his face. A mixture of slight worry, fond happiness and amusement.
Despite being held here for a reason he must be considering utter nonsense he looked more relaxed than I had seen him in a long time and obviously the other three men were the reason for this. So I shifted my attention to them as well.
Of course there was Boromir's bodyservant, Eomer, who had been with my brother almost as long as I could think back. For me he had become something like a piece of furniture long ago, so it was sort of strange to really look at him for once. To my surprise I realized that the boy I remembered had grown into a rather handsome young man.
He was sitting on the ground next to an elf. No – scratch that. Next to the cutest elf I had ever seen. Silky blond hair cascaded down over slim shoulders, slender hands rested in the hands of Boromir's bodyservant. A delicate head was tilted slightly, one pointed ear showing through the luxurious hair, while he listened with a small smile to the soft words of Eomer.
There were dark circles under his eyes and he was too thin, even for an elvan body, but he also radiated a catlike grace, that made me want to touch him, take him, use him, dirty him and make him mine. I could tell immediately that my brother had not properly broken him in.
Looking again at my brother I realized why. He was not watching the elf and his bodyservant, but the second human. So this one was the supposed 'threat to the rule of my father'.
A dirty, tired man, who looked like he had spent the last week in the dungeons of Minas Morgul and had just been superficially cleaned by being dumped into a water trough. I had no idea how anybody could believe him to be the heir to the throne of Gondor much less be a king. In fact I was hard pressed to imagine anybody less kingly than this man.
At least my brother seemed to agree with this because what I saw in his eyes was the infatuation with a well liked toy. Just like I had thought. Boromir had found a new fuck toy. One he seemed to very much enjoy. He has a strange taste. I for sure would have preferred the elf.
"Fara, there you are!" My brother's booming voice interrupted my thinking. "What is all this nonsense about?" I noticed the elf looking up and staring at me with barely veiled hatred. Hmm... now what had I done to earn that? Never mind...
"I fear it is not nonsense at all." I answered, turning to face my brother who had gotten up and came over to me to embrace me. "You know, what father is like." A shadow of fear moved over the face of my brother and was quickly suppressed.
"But still," he objected, "what could possibly make him that angry?" he asked. So he had no idea of who this Aragorn was supposed to be. Just as I had suspected. My gaze went back to the dirty human, who was listening as attentively as the elf, while my brother's bodyservant did, what all good servants do – busy their minds with something else, when their masters talk of important matters.
"Father thinks, that this one," I pointed at my brother toy, "is a heir to the line of Isildur and that you are supporting his claim to the throne." There was a shocked silence in the little house. Then my brother's laughter shook it. But that did not make me forget the moment of guilty fear on the face of this Aragorn. I stared at him with deep suspicion and he suddenly lowered his head and was all beaten slave. That even worsened my suspicion. Maybe there was some truth in what my father believed. Maybe it was a mistake to let my brother get away with this potential danger...
"Fara, Fara..." my brother broke my train of thought again. "How can you believe such rubbish. I mean, look at him, he is a good fuck but that really is all. There is not enough brains in that head to fill a spoon and not enough nobility in his blood to make a decent Gondorian cow."
I watched my brother's fuck toy blush crimson red and a sarcastic little smile spread on the face of the elf. What an odd lot of slaves my brother kept. But I'd better get back to the business of saving my brother's head.
"That may be true." I said. "But do you think father will grant you an opportunity do explain that to him?" Boromir's mirth died abruptly. "Oh." he said. My eloquent brother. Don't you just have to love him?
"Yes, oh." I looked at him for a moment. Heavens, I would miss him. "Father has signed your death warrant. You won't even get to see him. They'll kill you as soon as you show your face in Minas Tirith."
"Fuck." my brother grumbled. That was a better way to sum up the situation. "You should disappear from Gondor for a while." I advised. "At least till father has had a chance to think this over. Or till I have had a chance to talk some sense into him."
Boromir's brow furrowed and he laid his heavy hands on my shoulder. "Fara, don't endanger yourself. You know what father is like. He will kill you just as quickly if he thinks you are a threat." I smiled reassuringly. I did not plan to do anything on my brother’s behalf at all. Much less something that would endanger my own position. But it was sweet of Boromir to worry about me. "I'll be careful."
He raked both hands through his unruly hair and thoughtfully looked at the three slaves looking back at him with mixed emotions written on their faces. "I think I'll go to Rohan for now." he said. "There are quite a lot of people owing me some favors over there." Idiot, I thought, you shouldn't even tell me where you will go. But that was my trusting brother.
"Are you going to take them along?" I asked, my eyes fixed on the elf, who clearly recoiled from my intent gaze. "Yeah," my brother grumbled, "they might be useful." Or they might cut your throat, I thought, but I did not feel like arguing. There were plenty of other elves to be had.
"Don't worry your little head about me." Boromir announced jovially and then embraced me. "I'll be fine." Surprisingly I was pretty sure he would be. He might be utterly useless in politics but he knew how to survive.
"I wish you the best of luck." I said and for once I actually meant it. "I don't think I will be able to contact you, but I'm sure you will hear, when the mad king decides to forgive his errant heir." Boromir nodded trying bravely for a bright smile. "Take care, brother." he said and then separated from me. "And now get going before anybody misses you."
---
I left the little house, my brother and his strange slaves behind, riding back to Minas Tirith to again take up the dangerous game of real life chess I was playing with father.
Only when I was halfway there, did feelings of doubt begin to plague me. Had it really been such a good idea to let my emotion overrule my reason? Even if I loved my brother, wouldn't it have been safer to let my father go ahead with his plans and remove him from the game board?
But now it was to late to reverse course. Only the future would show, if I had endangered myself or saved a valuable asset.
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