Boromir begins to suspect Tirion.

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Chapter 13: Lies Unveiled[edit]

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Minas Tirith

In the early evening hours atop the White Tower, the white flag of the Steward waved in the wind. Usually the small courtyard, known only to a select few, brought a sense of serenity to those visiting, but tonight that tranquility had been shattered in the span of a heart beat.

Gondor’s Captain-general stared out into the abyss, oblivious to anything around him. Five days, five agonizing long days since his brother had been abducted, or so he had been led to believe.

Few in Minas Tirith doubted Tirion’s version of Faramir’s abduction, until last night when the lieutenant stumbled into the same tavern with the search party. Two words –‘Minas Morgul’, slipped from his drunken lips, raising more than a few brows. It caught the attention of two rangers who slipped out of the tavern unnoticed.

Boromir’s eyes were opened to Tirion’s treachery. He ordered Tirion’s father, an apothecary taken to the White Tower and questioned where he confessed to helping his son create the herbal remedies used on several guards the night Faramir disappeared.

The Captain-general heard enough. He swept past the guards, Faramir’s lieutenants, making his way upward into the tower. He stopped long enough to speak privately with a citadel guard, unaware or unconcerned, that Damrod and Mablung had followed him to the forbidden courtyard.

For several minutes the two rangers stood watching their commander, sensing Boromir’s anguish.

Heavy footsteps drew their attention to the spiral stairwell. Several Guards of the Citadel emerged, hauling a struggling Tirion between them. They moved past the rangers, dragging their prisoner across the courtyard and tossed Tirion down at Boromir’s feet.

Tirion nervously glanced up at his commander. “Captain-general, I…”

“Tell me, Tirion.” Boromir turned, his face twisted in anger. “What happened the night the elves took my brother?”

Tirion dusted himself off, and nervously glanced at the men gathered around the small courtyard. “W. We approached the River Anduin. Eagles swooped down and….”

“You drugged the guards.” Boromir grabbed the man, jerking him with such strength Tirion’s head bobbled back and forth. Fists twisted into Tirion’s tunic, lifting the terrified man off his feet. “You wanted no witnesses. Why?”

Tirion struggled, trying to free himself. Boromir knew? How? Who could have told him? The elves?

“Boromir.….”

Pain cut his words short. His back hit the turret, knocking the breath out of his lungs. He slid down, gasping in pain as Boromir towered over him.

“The truth, or…”

“Kill him, Boromir, you learn naught.”

All eyes turned, the Prince of Dol Amroth emerged from the stairwell, two knights flanking his sides. Rangers and guards bowed before the noble lord as Imrahil approached his nephew. The prince’s grey eyes turned to the fallen man, piercing Tirion with such intensity he lowered his eyes.

“My Lord, I swear upon my honor as a soldier of Gondor, I…”

Tirion never finished his lie, fingers wrapped around his throat, choking his windpipe. Boromir dragged the struggling man to the edge of the courtyard, and dangled him head first over the balcony railing.

“I…I had no choice,” Tirion screamed, vertigo increasing his panic. He didn’t want to die, not like this. “Minas Morgul, he was taken there.”

The fingers loosened, freeing Tirion from Boromir’s death grip. He started falling. Terrified, he tried screaming but his lungs refused to work. Someone grabbed his boot, anchoring him until hands pulled him back over the balcony.

Two knights of Dol Amroth, stared back at him with disgust in their eyes. Neither appeared pleased they had saved his life.

Fearful where Boromir had gone, Tirion’s eyes shifted left and right searching for the missing Captain-general. Boromir stared at nothing, his face frozen in shock.

“Boromir, your brother lives. This I swear to you.” Prince Imrahil turned, placing his hand on his nephew’s shoulder to reassure the younger man. “My aid, kin to Lindir, received a message this morn. Though the message brief. Faramir resides in Rivendell. He improves, yet his injuries severe.”

Faramir’s survival did little to ease Boromir’s fear. Minas Morgul. What happened there? Tirion never mentioned Minas Morgul. Why? What more had the lieutenant hid? He moved in Tirion’s direction, his hands balling into fists. “What reason would a nazgul desire Faramir?”

Tirion’s mind franticly searched for a believable lie. “The nazgul mentioned Mirkwood.”

“Mirkwood?” Prince Imrahil repeated the forest home of the woodland Elves, pondering Tirion’s explanation. The prince renewed eye contract with the lieutenant, nodding his head in agreement. “Aye, Sauron would seek that knowledge. Continue.”

Keeping the relief off his face, Tirion continued to feed Imrahil lies. “We were ambushed. Orcs and a nazgul. He demanded Faramir. We fought them….but there were many.” Tirion lowered his head, feigning remorsefulness in an attempt to win the noble’s favor. “I lost consciousness. When I woke. The wizard held Faramir. I know not what happened.”

“Yet you lied.”

“I feared the wizard.” Were the first words out of his mouth. “He claimed the elves wanted Faramir. Why, he refused to answer.”

Boromir’s hand went to his sword.

Tirion dropped to his knees, begging the Captain-general for mercy. “Lord Boromir, long have I served you. Never, if it within my power, would I allow harm to come to Faramir.”

Imrahil clasped his hand over Boromir’s sword hand, halting his nephew from drawing his weapon. “Would the lieutenant’s life end your anguish? No, nor would it ease the young one’s suffering. Trust the Elf-lord Elrond. No healer in Middle Earth could care for Faramir as he.”

Imrahil trusted an elf with Faramir’s safety, perhaps he should too, but Boromir couldn’t. Faramir was taken to Rivendell for a reason. “Uncle, never have you lied. If you know, what has befallen my brother?”

“Nephew, the nazgul…” the prince sighed deeply, unsure how to tell Boromir what he knew. Revealing the truth would turn his nephew into a murderous vigilante, ruining his life forever. Tirion would suffer, he vowed, but not by Boromir’s hand. No, that privilege was his. “Had Mithrandir not taken Faramir to Rivendell, you brother would have…”

“What…”

“Boromir, what would you have me say? I will not lie. Faramir has suffered greatly.” One of his knights cleared his throat, getting the prince’s attention. Imrahil turned, and walked away, unable to face his nephew’s questioning eyes. He nodded briefly at the knight, silently thanking the man for the distraction. Somehow he had to separate Boromir from Tirion before his nephew learned the truth. “Boromir, inform your father what has transpired. The steward told me you were here. He awaits your counsel. I shall join you momentarily.”

“And Tirion? His fate belongs in my hands.”

“I vow no hand shall befall him.”

Boromir paused, wanting to deal with Tirion first, however keeping the steward waiting had repercussions. He moved to the hidden stairwell. “Lock Tirion within the tower. Once Lord Denethor releases me from his counsel, I shall deal with this filth.” He glared at his former lieutenant. “Heed my word, every pain you caused my brother, you will feel twenty times more.”

Tirion swallowed the lump in his throat, took a step back when the guards moved in his direction. He started to call Boromir but the Captain-general had disappeared.

“Leave. The rangers too.” Imrahil’s command surprised not only Tirion, but the rangers as well. Mablung opened his mouth to protest but Imrahil held up his hand. “What happens now. Only the eyes of my knights may witness.”

“With all due respect, Prince Imrahil, Captain Faramir…”

“I have spoken, Lieutenant.” Imrahil hated reprimanding the ranger. The man cared deeply for his nephew, and for that reason, he wanted the ranger gone before he confronted Tirion. What happened to Faramir in Minas Morgul only a few would know. It was the least he could do for his nephew.

Damrod grabbed Mablung’s arm, urging the bulky ranger to leave. Mablung glared at Tirion, glanced briefly at the prince before nodding. A silent understanding passed between the two men.

Alone with Tirion, Imrahil reached into his tunic and pulled out a letter. “Mirkwood? The nazgul took my nephew for Mirkwood?”

“Your highness, Sauron wanted information on Mirkwood. The nazgul…”

“Enough with your lies. Sauron needed no information. Dol Guldur was once his home.” Imrahil angrily shook the letter in the Gondorian’s direction, watching Tirion’s mouth drop open. The spin of lies had caught the liar in his own web. Imrahil’s hand fisted around the letter. “Enlighten me, what payment the Witch-king gave you for Faramir?” His voice broke, recalling how the letter detailed everything Faramir suffered in Minas Morgul. His eyes watered, no longer capable of burying the anger he felt for this man. “Enlighten me, how you watched, taking pleasure as that spawn from Mordor raped my nephew again and again.”

Tirion’s eyes widened, terrified the prince knew his secret. “Y…your highness, I…I”

“I shall give you what you denied Faramir. Compassion. I vowed no hand shall touch you. Therefore you take your own life.”

“No.”

“Then Boromir learns the truth. I need not say what fate awaits you. He will not be merciful. Nor will I interfere.”

“I beg for….” Tirion stopped, movement behind Imrahil caught his attention. He gasped, backing away until his back touched the courtyard railing.

Concerned, Imrahil turned, wondering what had captured Tirion’s attention, and discovered what frightened him. They were not alone. A pair of angry eyes glared murderously at Tirion.






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