Time: August 9, 1:14 AM
General "Faramir " wearily looks over the maps strewn over the table. He is the new commander of the Black Rifles, having been given the command only recently, and already, he had a greater problem before him than all the previous commanders before him had ever had. "How are we ever to defeat General Meir'boro when he merely copies our ever move?" he explodes. "I send troops to the fortifications in one place, and he does the same; I attack here, and he attacks at the same point, at the same time, with same amount of men! We even lose the same amount of men! It seems the only way we can get rid of this threat to the world is to kill ourselves and hope they do the same!"
Frustrated, the General leaves the dim room and heads to the surface to clear his head. Outside, he walks around, pacing back and forth, racking his brain for a solution. How do you defeat an enemy that mirrors your every move without first defeating yourself? There seemed to be no other solution to the problem other than killing themselves, or marching straight into the portal themselves and leading the White Rifles away from Gondor. He knew his men would not hesitate at either command, but it went against his nature to willing send his men to their deaths. No, he would only exercise those options as a last resort. There must be some other way to win without first losing.
He wished his brother was here. Though most Black Rifles severed all ties with family in order to serve, he and his brother couldn't do it. They had lost their parents when "Faramir" was just a baby, and his brother had cared for him his whole life. They had done everything together growing up, so when his impetuous brother joined the Black Rifles, he had signed up too. "How ironic," he thought, "that he would be known as General "Boromir" and go down in history as a valiant warrior, have his name forever immortalized, and be the last man ever to carry the title of "Boromir", and I should be his successor and be given the name "Faramir". Sometimes fate has an interesting way of doing things."
While he turned to head back into the bunker to see if any new transmissions had come in, he pondered on what his older brother would do. "Boromir" would have known exactly what should be done; he always had a grand plan. If only he could catch just a glimpse of one of those plans. As he strode past the sentries and through the hidden door, it came to him like a thunderbolt. Wheeling around in the doorway, he understood. "It would be just like this." he thought. All he would have to do is get them this far, and then get out of the way in time! But, he shuddered at the thought, the cost would be great. Very great. Yet, it must be done. Standing in the doorway, he now knew what to do. He sent one last glance at the sky before heading underground and sent a quick whisper of thanks. "Now," he thought, "it's my turn to save Gondor."
Next: Part II