Characters/Pairing: Denethor, Ecthelion
Disclaimer: Not mine; for love, not money.
The Steward traces a finger over the map. His voice echoes on marble.
“Osgiliath fell,” he says. “’Twas as a lost counter-weight, and Minas Anor began to sink. Unbalanced.”
The boy is not long returned from a practice bout in the armory, and though his arms ache, his eyes are keen and clear: “A hilt without a pommel, then,” he ventures.
Ecthelion raises his eyebrows, proud of the lad’s reasoning even as he rues its truth. “Yes.”
Denethor stares at the thin lines, understanding, even now, that he inherits a land that may all too easily slip from his grasp.