White Tower of Ecthelion



Denethor did not utter a word during Parthadan’s presentation. The late hour of the night did not sit well with the Steward, it seemed to age him. His eyelids were puffed, his cheeks sunken and pale, but the matter at hand was too urgent to wait until morning. Besides, the Steward was too angry to sleep.

There were only two other men present in the Tower Hall barring the Citadel Guards standing faithfully at their posts like statues. Parthadan, the Warden of the Green and Denethor’s unofficial spymaster, and Torthadir, Captain of Gondor and the chief of the Rangers of Ithilien, were standing before the Steward. Parthadan did most of the talking. When Torthadir opened his mouth to say something, the Steward glanced at him with a crushing glare reflecting both irritation and loathing, convincing Torthadir to keep his mouth shut.

All three understood just how close they had been to a disaster. The problem was how to proceed from here.

When Parthadan had stopped talking the Steward turned his gaze at Torthadir, who felt that it was finally time for him to speak up.

”My Lord, you gave the arrangement your blessing too! It seemed like such a good idea… how could I have known what was going on on the other side of Mordor? Or Falaben’s scheming? I just gave my tacit approval to an arrangement I felt could benefit Gondor greatly in the long run, and not just finacially. Falaben played us… he fooled us both! How could I have known…”

”I would expect a greater military mind and capacity for strategic thinking from the Captain of Gondor”, Denethor interrupted. ”Falaben might have fooled you, but it was you who presented the idea to me. You must pass on to Falaben my order to stop all trading with the Haradrim immediately. And may I assume that you know what is expected of you after that? Can I count on your loyalty for the throne and the oaths you have taken? Will you not do everything in your power to keep Gondor out of harm’s way? Can I count on you to do the right thing?”

Torthadir’s shoulders and head slumped. ”Yes, my Lord”, he said in a deflated tone of voice. ”I will leave my resignation as soon as I have concluded all of my urgent unfinished duties. I do believe I need to spend more time with my family.”

”Very good”, Denethor said. ”You may leave us. Parthadan, stay with me for a while. I want a few words with you.”

They watched as Torthadir shuffled down the lustrous floor of the Tower Hall on his way out of the White Tower, his shoulders slumped, his head bowed down. Torthadir might have escaped punishment from the law, but he would never serve Gondor in any official position again.

”I may have been too hasty earlier when I said I don’t need the services of your spy network anymore”, Denethor said after Torthadir was gone. ”Without your meddling this affair could have ended very badly for all of us. Perhaps you do have an important duty to fulfill through your spies, to make sure something like this will never happen again. You have done me and the kingdom a great service, and I thank you for it.”

”Thank you, my Lord”, Parthadan said, bowing deeply before the Steward.

”That woman”, Denethor said. ”Radawen. Can we trust her discretion? Will she stay quiet about the things she has learned?”

”I believe so, my Lord. Delioron vouched for her. She understands the consequences for all of Gondor if the truth ever comes out.”

”Very well. I will have to trust that then.”

”My Lord, what will we do about Falaben?” Parthadan asked. ”He is a traitor to Gondor. He has directly schemed with Sauron’s agents and conspired to murder many citizens of Gondor. He is corrupt and dangerous.”

”What can we do about Falaben? He is a crook, yes, but I doubt he shares Torthadir’s loyalty and love of Gondor. I am sure he’s intelligent enough to drop his traitorous dealings with the Haradrim once he realizes he has been caught red-handed, but otherwise we can’t touch him. Of course he can’t prove anything, but the suspicion alone could do enormous damage if he talks about my… alleged involvement in his transgressions.”

”You are probably right, my Lord”, Parthadan agreed. ”There’s probably not much we can do about Falaben.”