An Acceptance

“Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor. In peace or war... In living or dying.. Fr… from… from… from this hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death… take me.”

Pippin kneeled before the thrown of the Steward, reciting his lines before the Steward.

Some distance behind him stood his friend, leaning up against a pillar of the Hall, watching with bored eyes. Parallel to her, the heir of the Stewardship stood tall, his eyes seemingly focused on his father and the Halfling, but his mind was very much elsewhere. Every so often his gaze would flicker to the girl, but she paid him no mind. She had no need to glance at him to see him. She could hear his slightly increased heartbeat, and his eyes flickering from side to side slightly, as if he were reading what he was thinking.

Ha, she thought to herself, he’s nervous to be around me. Figures.

In front of them all, Lord Denethor, Steward of Gondor, rose with a sickening, self-satisfied grin on his face.

“And I shall not forget it! Nor fail to reward that which is given,” he called snidely.

He pushed his ring hand forward to Pippins face, who after a moment, turned and reluctantly kissed the jeweled band.

"Fealty with love. Valor with honor."

Denethor turned to face Faramir.

“Disloyalty with vengeance."

Raina heard Faramir grit his teeth, and she immediately knew that his father was giving him hell for letting Frodo and Sam go.

You must remember he’s not the enemy, she reminded herself. He saved your brother. You’re on the same team.

Denethor sat at a large table filled with food, but he was not done with Faramir.

“I do not think we should so lightly abandon the outer defenses. Defenses that your brother long held intact,” he announced.

Faramir opened his clenched teeth. “What would you have me do?”

Raina stood up a little, watching the two with interest.

“I will not yield the river and Pelennor unfought. Osgiliath must be retaken.”

Faramir looked at his father with weary eyes. “My Lord, Osgiliath is overrun.”

“Much must be risked in war. Is there a Captain here who still has the courage to do his lord's will?” The Steward said, manipulating his son by comparing him to Boromir.

“You wish now that our places had been exchanged. That I had died and Boromir had lived,” he said desolately.

There was a short pause before the Steward answered.

“Yes. I wish that.”

Pippin gawked at the two while Raina’s expression soured. She glared daggers at the Steward and her lip curled in disgust.

Faramir turned and started walking away while Raina was fuming, but turned back to his father.

“If I should return, think better of me, Father,” he said softly.

Denethor glared up at him, paying no mind to the two creatures glaring at him.

“That should depend on the manner you return.”

And with that, Faramir left the Hall, not turning back this time.

Raina followed him out with regretful eyes before turning on Denethor.

“What is wrong with you?” she shrieked, not bothering to pretend to be a servant girl any longer. “How- how dare you? He’s your son!”

Denethor looked up at her like she was a pesky mosquito buzzing around his face.

“Do not embarrass yourself, servant girl. You do not understand anything about war.”

Raina buzzed incoherently with anger before yanking off her servant’s robe to reveal her gear underneath. “Servant girl my ass,” she growled before flinging the thing away from her. “I’m so sick of everyone underestimating me here. I could kill you, right here and now, if I wanted it to be so.”

Denethor’s eyes widened for a fraction of a moment before turning into tiny slits.

“You move to unseat me, with that- with that Ranger imbecile that you travel with!”

Raina growled, her hand immediately flying to her boot where her dagger was kept. But before she could raise it in attack, Pippin grabbed her arm, steadying it by her side with wide, fearful eyes.

Raina let her arm relax in defeat but she continued to snarl at the Steward. “Never insult my family. I will see to it that it is the last thing you ever do.”

And with that, she stuck her dagger back in her boot and spun on her heel toward the door.

“Do not ever come back to this Hall, by penalty of death!” he yelled, seeming to have regained his courage.

She spun around to face him, her face livid. “You say that as if I would ever think about coming here in your charge!”

She turned back around, her loose hair flying around her head, and she pushed the doors open and strode out.