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By Root 1053 0

is leaderless, and therefore I, Aragorn, the heir of Isildur, having today defeated the hordes of the East on the Field of Pelennor, accept the crown of the Reunited Kingdom at the army's request. This is set; alternatives exist only as far as your own fate, Prince. Option number one: you abdicate the throne (remember that yours is a dynasty of Stewards, rather than Kings!) and leave Minas Tirith to become a prince of one of the lands of Gondor; I think that Ithilien will suit you just fine. Option number two: you refuse, but then I will not treat you – whatever for? – and will assume the crown after your imminent demise. By the way, nobody but me knows that you're still alive; the funeral is set for today, and I will simply let it proceed. After a few hours you'll hear the tombstone seal your family crypt… I'm sure your imagination can fill in the rest. Do you understand, Faramir?"

The prince's fingers were silent. He had always had the cool courage of a philosopher, but the idea of being buried alive can instill crushing dread into any soul.

"Oh no, this won't do at all. If you don't give me a clear answer in half a minute, I'll leave, and in a couple of hours, when the athelas wears off, the undertakers will come. Believe me that I much prefer option one, but if you would rather have the crypt…"

'No'

"No – meaning yes? You agree to become Prince of Ithilien?"

'Yes'

"We have a mutual understanding, then; your word is quite sufficient – so far. Some time from now you'll regain your ability to speak, and I will visit you with Prince Imrahil, who is the temporary regent of the town and country after the passing of Denethor. By then Imrahil will have examined my royal credentials and will confirm them to you; you, in turn, will confirm your decision to resign as Steward of Gondor and move to Ithilien. The entire Gondor knows of the Prince's nobility and his friendship with you, so I expect that the people will duly accept his announcement. Do you agree? Answer: yes or no?!"

'Yes'

"By the way, I'll answer your unspoken question: why don't I do away with you, option two being both simple and reliable? I'm being quite pragmatic here: an alive, abdicated Faramir in Ithilien is harmless, whereas his dead body in a crypt of the Stewards of Gondor would no doubt spawn a legion of pretenders – false Faramirs. Oh, and another thing: I'm certain that you would not go against your given word, but just in case, bear this in mind: no one but me in the entire Middle Earth can heal you, and this healing will take a long time yet and can take unexpected turns… do you understand me?"

'Yes' (What's not to understand? A simple poisoning would be the least of his worries; what if he were turned into a vegetable, to drool and soil himself for the rest of his life?)

"Excellent! I'll say just one more thing in conclusion, because I believe that it's important to you..." To the prince's considerable amazement, there was genuine emotion in Aragorn's voice now. "I promise to rule Gondor in such a way that you, Faramir, will never have a single occasion to think that you would have done it better. I promise that the Reunited Kingdom will prosper and flourish like never before. And I also promise that the story of the King and the Steward will be so treated in all the chronicles as to glorify you forever. Now drink this and sleep."

He came back to conscience still in the thrall of darkness and speechlessness, but the terrible cold had retreated to the location of the wound, and – happiness! – he could feel pain and could even move a little. There were voices nearby, but they fell silent… And then She appeared.

Chapter 21

First there was only her hand – small but unwomanly strong; the hand of a rider and a swordswoman, as he immediately determined. The girl did not possess the habits of a real nurse, but it was obvious that treating the wounded was nothing new to her. Why is she doing everything one-handed, though – an injury of her own, perhaps? He tried estimating her height from how far she could reach sitting on