For the eighth day in a row, I woke up in blinding pain.
I must have moaned for Éowyn stirred beside me. “Is it your head
again?” She questioned softly. I made what I hoped was an affirmative
sound. My wife got out of our bed careful not to do disturb me or make
any unnecessary noise. She tiptoed across the room and out the door.
I knew she had gone to make the foul tea that had been recommenced the
last time I had consulted a healer about my headaches. The tea did not
help, but I had not told Éowyn that. She could not bear to feel helpless
so I let the her believe the noxious brew was of some assistance to
me. Éowyn and I were well matched for many reasons but perhaps the most
important thing we shared was that we understood each others’
wounds and respected them.
My wife returned to the room, brimming cup in hand and placed
it on the stand near the bed. “I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too,” I whispered back as she left
the room. When I had one of my headaches all noise, light and even motion
were agony to me. Éowyn had an intuitive grasp of the situation and
always left me to recover in my own way. I had felt guilty in the early
months of our marriage about needing to be by myself during my headaches,
but once Leonin had come to live with us I was able to feel better about
many aspects of my relationship with my wife.
Leonin came from the south. She was the daughter of a merchant
who had been killed along with Leonin’s mother and sisters in
an orc raid. When Éowyn and I had been traveling around the country
recruiting troops to make up the horrible losses of the ring war Leonin
had been the first to show up. She had no natural aptitude for weapons
or war, but she was persistent. No matter what the circumstances she
always had a smile and a cheerful word. During the months of training
Leonin did not improve very much. She tried harder than any of the others
but she was an abominable archer and a worse swordswoman. Éowyn had
been drawn to the young southron, however, and the two had become fast
friends. Upon careful inquiry Éowyn had found out the Leonin’s
father had taught his daughter the basics of his trade including accounting.
So Leonin put away the bow and sword and took up the stylus and the
ledger. The army accounts had never been run more efficiently.
One day Éowyn brought me a book. She claimed that she had
been browsing through the library and the book happened to have caught
her eye and she wanted my opinion of it. As soon as I opened the volume
I knew Éowyn was trying to tell me something specific. The ancient script
and yellowed sheets as well as the librarian’s notes on the first
page meant that one could not find one’s way to this book in the
library unless one had a bakery full of bread crumbs to mark the path.
The book itself contained an account of a small community
of elves. According to the author the female elves took one male for
their husband but they also shared their favors with other females.
These bonds between the two females could often be as close or even
closer than the bond between the husband and wife. I thought this over
for a few days. I loved Éowyn but I knew there were things I could not
do for her, things I could not give her. Both of us had suffered in
our youth. It seemed sometimes that we were both made of glass and that
if we dared touch one another we would shatter. I made my decision and
returned the book to Éowyn. I told her that I found the book quite interesting
and that I had made some notes she might want to read. My ‘notes’
were actually a copy of the only poem Éowyn liked that did not mention
war. The poem was about love and friendship. The next day Leonin moved
into our home.
As the night wore on the pain slowly began to subside.
I hoped fervently that I would be well by morning. Every ten days the
king called a council for discussions. I loved these days. The king
always had a new idea or project for improving the City. He had already
begun a system for training healers so that citizens would not be at
the mercy of every quack with a homemade cure. I thought this idea might
be expanded into training programs for other professions. The guilds
had grown increasingly lax in insuring the competence of their members.
Also guild membership was too often a question of nepotism. I had drafted
a plan for reforming the guilds that I hoped would guarantee opportunities
to the most talented. I was eager to share these ideas with the king
and also the other councillors.
Even more important to me than the council meeting, however,
was the time I spent with the king afterward. When the council adjourned,
the king would ask some of us to stay and share lunch with him. Over
lunch the conversation would become more enthusiastic as we began to
discuss our ideas in greater detail. Often there would be disagreements
but these disagreements spurred everyone to refine their ideas. After
lunch the king would inspect the guard, oversee the repair or the remodeling
of a building or simply walk in the garden. When he had first asked
me to accompany him on one of these expeditions he had joked that since
the war was over we would have to get our exercise this way. Of course
it was common knowledge that the king always spent at least an hour
a day sparring with his guardsmen. For myself, I did enjoy the exercise,
the beautiful gardens and the engineering projects. I also liked the
time to digest everything that had been said earlier. If I was particularly
lucky the king would have a light schedule and we would spend time simply
reading together or talking casually. Sometimes the queen or another
of the king’s close counselors would join us. It almost felt like
a family gathering. Later we would have dinner. All sorts of artists
and poets were drawn to court and there was never a lack of witty conversation.
I decided that I would not let a mere headache or a lack of sleep keep
me away from spending what could potentially be the entire day with
my king.
When I rose from bed at dawn, I felt nearly myself again.
I had slept no more than three hours a night for more than a week and
I feared exhaustion would slow my brain but other than feeling tired
I was ready for the day. As I poured the cup of tea Éowyn had brought
me in the night out the window into the bushes I thought the frequency
of my headaches was becoming far too great. Sooner or later, I would
have to consult another healer, I decided grimly.
When I went in to breakfast Éowyn and Leonin were already
at the table. “Good morning, ladies,” I greeted them as
I kissed Éowyn on the cheek.
“Are you feeling any better, Faramir?” Leonin
asked solicitously.
“Yes, thank you.” I answered.
“Did you manage to get any more sleep last night?”
Éowyn questioned, a small frown of concern on her face.
“Yes, it was not nearly as bad as I thought it was
going to be.” I lied.
After two muffins and a bit more small talk Éowyn and I were
ready to depart for the City. Éowyn was always invited to the council
meetings but she preferred to spend the time talking with guardsmen
and the various captains of the City. She found the meetings too theoretical
and a bit boring but she loved to visit Minas Tirith, meet with the
king and dine at court. The romantic aspect of Éowyn’s infatuation
with the king was long over but there still existed between them a bond
of great love and devotion. Moreover, ever since her marriage to the
king the queen had been making a special effort to befriend Éowyn- Éowyn
had few female friends besides Leonin and she really didn’t count
that way. It had been nearly three years but my stubborn wife was finally
beginning to warm to the lady Arwen. The two now spent large parts of
the day in each other’s company.
The council meeting had gone better than I could have hoped.
My reform plan had met with nearly universal praise. Success and lack
of sleep were making me slightly giddy. I was much more talkative at
lunch than was my wont. Once when I was laughing a little too loudly
at some remark made by the Lord Chamberlain I caught the king’s
eye on me. I did my best to settle down after that. I would die of shame
if I ever did anything to lower myself in my king’s regard.
When lunch was finished and all had departed save the king
and myself, I found that my lord had again focused his gaze upon me.
I flushed a little, unsure of what his scrutiny portended. It took all
my self-control to refrain from jumping to my feet and tidying all the
abandoned dishes and tableware. My father had always hated disorder.
Thus, whenever I was nervous as a child I was in the habit of straightening
anything and everything in the vicinity so that there would be nothing
to further strain father’s patience.
After a moment more the king sighed and rose from his chair.
“Would you care to walk with me in the garden, Faramir? The queen
has managed to coax into bloom several flower species which before could
only be found in Rivendell.”
“I would be delighted.” I replied, getting to
my feet as soon as the king stood. “Gondor is indeed fortunate
to be a home to so much elfin beauty.” This last statement was
a courtier’s remark since it could be applied to the queen herself
as well as horticulture. I was sincere but I blushed a shade deeper
thinking how trite the comment must have sounded to someone used to
and unimpressed by facile compliments.
He must have perceived my guilelessness for he smiled a little.
“Excellent, for I value your company as much as I do your opinion.
You made some ingenious suggestions today, Faramir. You have been an
incomparable asset to me since I began my kingship. I am very proud
of you.” As he said this he moved over to me and placed an approving
hand on my shoulder.
Whether fate had decided to work malice upon me on a whim
or whether my own body decided to rise up in rebellion over all the
wrongs done to it in the past by my mind I will never know. Whatever
the cause at the king’s words, at the king’s touch I burst
into helpless sobs.
Once it had begun I could not stop it. I wished for death
but all that came were more tears. Even as the first tear dripped down
my face I felt myself enfolded in strong arms. I was weeping into my
king’s shoulder and- oh gods forgive me- I was clinging to him
as a drowning man clings to his rescuer. Time passed and still my body
was racked by sobs. I cried as I had never cried as a child. I did not
cry prettily either. The beautiful fabric of the king’s shirt
was soaked where I had pressed my face. Moisture seeped from my eyes,
nose and mouth. The king held me tightly as I cried and he whispered
words that were soft and kind but unintelligible. Perhaps he spoke in
Elvish or perhaps I had simply lost all comprehension.
Several times I mustered enough control of myself to try
and pull away from the undeserved shelter of my king’s embrace
either to run off into the City and disappear or more simply to throw
myself out the nearest window. Elessar, however, held me tightly to
him preventing my escape. Why, oh why was this happening now? I would
have greatly preferred to lose control in front of the entire army,
my wife, my very worst enemy or even my father, rather than in front
of the man I honored and respected above all others.
When the terrible flood seemed to have abated a little I
tried to speak. “My lord, I- I’m so- so sor-“ The
attempt was too much for me and I again succumbed to the humiliating
tears.
“Hush, Faramir. I will hear of no apology for you have
nothing to apologize for. Hush, it’s all right. It’s all
right.” The compassion in his voice provoked even more tears.
It was not all right. It would never be all right again. I had wanted
so very badly to be of some use to my country, to my king, but I was
too weak, too stupidly weak. If Boromir had lived he would have been
a stout bulwark of Elessar’s reign but of what use was a weeping
fool? For the thousandth time I wished that I had died in my brother’s
place.
I continued crying. I cried noisily my entire body shuddering,
then the spasms would ease and silent tears would cascade down my face.
Finally, finally I had no more tears left and I leaned quiet and exhausted
against Elessar. I dreaded the moment he would let me go for I knew
that I had not the courage to face the consequences of what I had done.
What was more, in my drained state I could almost forget my terrible
shame and I wanted to focus only on the comfort and safety of being
held tightly by someone I trusted.
When the king was satisfied I had truly finished with my
little display he began walking slowly across the room. I had no choice
but to shuffle along beside him since he still held me against him.
We moved like clumsy children in a three legged race. I smiled very
faintly at the image and as I smiled two more tears leaked from my eyes.
When we came up against a table we stopped. Elessar kept one arm about
me as I heard him pour water into a glass.
“Drink this.”
With the greatest reluctance I turned away from his shoulder
and reached for the cup. I needed both hands to hold the glass, even
then the king helped to guide the water to my lips. I drank thirstily.
The cool liquid running down my throat soothed the pounding in my temples
and the aching in my chest. When I finished the first glass the king
poured another. This time I was allowed to hold the cup by myself. I
felt as though all the intense, painful emotion had been wrung out of
me with my tears leaving a sort of calmness that was almost like peace.
After I finished the second cup of water I was led, quite unresisting,
to the long sofa that stood against the far wall piled high with cushions.
“Sit down here, Faramir. I want you to rest for a moment.”
I sat down, rather stiffly. If I relaxed at all I knew I
would sink my elbows onto my knees and bury my head in my hands. I looked
up at the king rather forlornly. I wondered if I should officially resign
all duties and commissions right now. No, probably better to wait and
write a letter in case there was within me yet another floodgate ready
to burst open at any provocation. I had just proven myself to be far
too unstable for any serious responsibility.
“Stay right there, I will be back in just a moment.”
The king placed a hand on my shoulder and pressed down gently as if
to demonstrate the meaning of his words.
Without his gaze to hold me upright I dropped forward a bit
and covered my face in my hands. I heard the king walk to the door,
open it and give some instructions to one of the pages in the corridor.
I did not hear what was said but it was not difficult to guess. He had
sent for Éowyn. My poor wife! I hoped that I would merely be delivered
into her care and that none of this horror would reflect badly upon
her. She was de facto captain of the soldiers of Ithilien. Though technically
we shared command I had had enough of the army for my lifetime. Also
she was working hard to import the tradition of the Shield Maiden to
Gondor. These things mattered so much to her. I knew Éowyn was capable
of great generosity but she would never forgive me for shaming myself
and her also by association in front of our king.
I heard Elessar return. I felt him take a seat next to me.
I was behaving terribly but I no longer had enough will to raise my
head.
“Will you tell me what troubles you, Faramir?”
The king asked, putting a reassuring arm around my shoulders. I gave
a short bark of laughter. I bit my lip hard to stop the sound. It appeared
I was still dangerously close to hysteria.
“My lord, I can think of nothing to explain this .
. . this . . .” I could think of no word to describe what had
just happened so I simply trailed off. The worst part of it was that
it was true. There was simply no reason at all for me to be upset. If
I had been asked an hour ago I would have said that this was the happiest
I had ever been. I had thought the worst was truly over and from now
on things would continue to get better day by day. I hoped he believed
me. I would rather have him think me mad than believe I would ever lie
to him.
“Then do not try to explain it. Simply talk to me.
Tell me something trivial. What did you think of Maigin’s Second
Treatise on Navigable Waterways? How many cavalry mounts does Éowyn
hope to extort from her brother for her Shield-Maidens? What did you
have for breakfast this morning?”
I knew that he was trying to distract me and I appreciated
it. I tried to think. I had actually found Maigin’s second treatise
very interesting. “It occurred to me that there are several places
along the Andurin where we could build locks. I think we could increase
export . . .” It was not working I couldn’t concentrate.
I could not force myself to ignore what had just happened and talk about
commerce. I was utterly unredeemable.
The king drew me closer. I huddled against him, unable to
speak further. All my strength had left me. It was so easy just to relax
against him, letting him support me. My mind was starting to drift.
I must have started imagining things for I thought I heard someone speaking-
no singing. The voice was deep and very quiet. I had to strain to hear
the low melody. My fatigued brain must have indeed been playing tricks
for it seemed as though the song was for me yet no one had ever sung
to me before. Wondrous strange.
The first thing I became aware of when I woke was that for
the first time in more than a week I had not been wakened by terrible
pain in my head. The second thing I became aware of was that my unaching
head was resting on someone’s lap.
“My lord?” I asked, sitting up slowly. Somehow
I must have stretched out on the soft cushions and fallen asleep.
“How are you feeling, Faramir?” Elessar asked,
flexing and extending his long legs. How long had he sat there, still
and quiet, watching over me?
“Much better, thank you.” It was true. I still
couldn’t believe I had really made such a complete fool out of
myself and my face was a bit flushed from having allowed myself to fall
asleep in such a position. But I did feel better, better than I had
in quite some time. I had a sense of inner calm that had long been missing.
“How long did I sleep?” I asked sheepishly.
“A little more than three hours.” Three hours!
I deserved to be hanged for wasting so much of his time. I was about
to say as much but he the king spoke first. “We need not ever
speak of this afternoon if that is what you would prefer, Faramir. My
opinion of your great wisdom, intelligence and courage has not changed.
Only I hope that you will come to me if there is ever anything you might
wish to tell me. I would like to hear anything you would like to say.”
I had no words so I simply bowed my head in a sign of my
grateful acknowledgment.
“I would like for you and Éowyn to have dinner with
the queen and me this evening.” Elessar continued his voice becoming
more businesslike. “I have duties that will occupy my next few
hours but you are welcome to rest here.” So saying he led the
way across the room to a doorway. The doorway had not been hidden so
much as easy to overlook. I had certainly never noticed it before. As
I entered I immediately became aware of the aroma of pipe smoke. The
room was small and very tidy. Books lined the walls floor to ceiling.
There was a work bench with a mortar and pestle, several neatly labeled
jars of various specimens, a few potted plants, and a notebook. Large
stacks of papers were arranged on the desk. The camp bed in the corner
had a beautifully embroidered coverlet. The silken blanket was out of
place in a room that was so obviously meant for work or solitary reflection.
In an alcove there was a pitcher of water, a basin, soap and a washcloth
but no mirror. This must be the king’s private study.
“No one will disturb you here. Rest, read, do whatever
pleases you. I shall send someone when dinner is ready.”
“My lord?” He had already turned to go but I
wanted to keep him with me if only for a moment longer.
He turned back to face me, his expression patient.
“Thank you.” I whispered.
“You’re welcome.” He said showing me a
beautiful smile. Then he was gone
When the door had closed I looked longingly at the
cot. I could have easily slept again but I did not want to risk a headache.
So I washed my face and began looking over the books on the shelves.
I settled down with a book inscribed to the ‘Dúnedain’.
I absorbed the quiet and serenity of my surroundings, soaking up the
feeling- the spirit of the one who spent the most time in this place,
for I could almost sense my lord’s presence all about me. I was
very glad not to have to face the outside world for a little while longer.
After several minutes I had become completely engrossed in the world
of hobbits and riddles.
There was a knock on the door. “Come in.” I called
without raising my eyes from the page. When I finished the paragraph
and raised my eyes I saw Elessar leaning casually against a bookshelf.
He was not really smiling but he seemed somehow amused. I nearly dropped
the book in my hurry to get to my feet. He came over to me and took
the leather bound volume from my hand. This wasn’t fair he had
said he would send someone to fetch me not come himself.
“I shall send this home with you after we have eaten.
Come, the ladies are waiting.” What was wrong with me? I was constantly
letting my guard down in Elessar’s presence, even though, it was
so important that he think well of me. Since I was apparently destined
to bungle everything else perhaps I should consider applying for the
position of court jester.
When we entered a small private dining room Queen Arwen and
Lady Éowyn were deep in conversation. Each was beautiful in her own
way. The queen was tall and slim with porcelain skin and night black
hair. My wife was shorter than the queen, more compact like a coiled
spring. Her ice blue eyes and flame gold hair always sending out confusing
messages of cold and warmth. Together they were breathtaking.
Dinner was going very well. The queen and Éowyn compared
stories of growing up in two very different royal courts. The king would
sometimes make a comment or ask a question but he told no stories of
his own. Occasionally Queen Arwen would invite me into the conversation
but I preferred to be quiet and simply listen to their lovely voices.
The soup bowls had been discretely removed and we were awaiting
the main course when there was a flurry of activity just outside the
dining room. Suddenly the door shivered then burst open in a small shower
of splinters revealing an angry wizard wielding a glowing staff.
“Damn it man, do you think those who plot evil make
their plans around the king’s dinner schedule.” The target
of the intruder’s harangue was a flustered but still defiant secretary.
“There was no need to actually break down the door.”
Spluttered the secretary, eyes very wide.
“Welcome Mithrandir. Would you care to join us?”
We had all jumped to our feet at the sudden disturbance, but the queen
was first to recover her poise.
The intruder was indeed Gandalf the White and I felt myself
smile to see the old wizard.
“No, no dear lady. Thank you, but no.” Mad magician
had been completely replaced by kindly old man as Gandalf and the queen
embraced. My wife nodded cooly to the newcomer and I shook his hand
fondly.
“No, I fear I have come on urgent business. Do forgive
the manner of my coming, but I have need of speech with you, Aragorn.”
“Then speech you shall have, my friend. Faramir, ladies,
I hope you will excuse me.” With that the king left to follow
the impatient wizard, stopping at the door to say some soothing words
to the distraught secretary.
The commotion had not lasted long. Immediately upon the departure
of Elessar and Gandalf, a large platter of baked river trout was brought
in.
“Well, shall we resume our meal?” The queen asked,
returning to her seat.
“If there is some danger should we not. . .”
Éowyn began.
The queen laughed gently. “Mithrandir is a dear friend
as well as a wise and good counselor but the last evil to threaten the
kingdom took the form of a junior clark who had misfiled some of Mithrandir’s
research in the royal archives.”
Éowyn resumed her seat, reassured but I sucked in my breath.
“The villainy! I hope the wretch was duly scourged.” All
of Gondor knew of my passion for accurate record keeping.
“Oh, Faramir, I cannot decide. Are you jesting?”
The queen asked feigning confusion.
I made as if to respond but stopped myself. Then I answered
in a puzzled tone: “Ma’am, I am not entirely certain.”
The queen laughed and Éowyn smiled but the smile did not
last long. “Even so, would it not be more courteous for the wizard
to seek an audience before indulging his eccentricity?” Éowyn
did not like Gandalf. She believed he had deliberately delayed freeing
her late uncle from Gríma’s enchantment until a time that best
suited his own plans. I owed Gandalf my life so I could not share my
wife’s animosity without being churlish.
“Mithrandir has been a good friend to my husband for
that I would forgive him any amount of discourtesy and any number of
broken doors.” The queen spoke graciously as always but she continued
though I thought she had made her point. “It has not always been
easy for Aragorn and Mithrandir has been a source of solace. You know
of the necessity of certain friendships and how little the ordinary
rules can be applied to them, Éowyn.” Was the queen lecturing?
She sounded very intense.
“Yes, I do understand.” Éowyn also sounded intense.
To my surprise and discomfort they both turned their attention on me.
“Faramir, you understand the sacrifices that must sometimes
be made if those we love are to have the happiness they deserve.”
The queen was not asking a question but she seemed to want some sort
of an answer. I hurriedly stuffed a forkful of fish into my mouth and
made- what I hoped was- a polite but non-committal sound. Was the queen
saying that she knew about the friendship between Leonin and Éowyn but
was not going to make a scandal. If that was so then I was certainly
grateful but I was truly not sure what she was talking about.
“For myself, I would never oppose anything which brought
my husband joy. To elves there is no firm line between love and friendship
as there seems to be for humans. I have cast in my lot with humanity
but I believe that when it comes to the sharing of intimacy it is the
elves who have the right of it.” The queen was gazing at me and
I felt the fey power of her stare. I had to press my fingernails hard
into my palms to keep from fidgeting.
Éowyn was nodding. “You express noble sentiments, lady.
I could do no better than to echo them.” Though she was speaking
to the queen her eyes never left me. I hurriedly faked a cough so I
could turn away. I brought my napkin up to my mouth, hoping against
hope that all of this intense scrutiny was merely the ladies’
polite way of telling me I had some fish sauce on my chin.
To my great relief a serving maid entered the room, at that
moment, bringing a bowl of apples and a platter of cheese. She quickly
collected the dinner plates, before exiting gracefully. When the girl
had departed, the queen turned back to Éowyn and asked her to continue
with the story she had been telling before Gandalf arrived.
I was indulging in a second helping of cheese when the king
returned to the room accompanied by the wizard. Éowyn and I made as
if to rise but he gestured us back to our seats. Gandalf helped himself
to an apple and started munching.
The king looked concerned. “The news is somewhat grave,
this time.” He announced. placing a hand on the queen’s
shoulder.
At the king’s statement I thought I heard Gandalf mutter
around bits of apple: “‘somewhat?’” and then
“‘this time?!” Éowyn was closer to the wizard and
she shot him a look that seemed to say ‘Shut up, old man!’
so I had probably heard correctly. I tried to give Gandalf an apologetic
smile without my wife noticing.
“At Gandalf’s entreaty the King of Mirkwood sent
a group of three elves into Mordor to investigate reports of unnatural
weather and strange creatures. None of the elves have returned and Thrandruil
will send no more.”
Here Gandalf interrupted the king’s narrative: “Thrandruil
is quite wroth with me for he believes I deliberately sent his elves
into peril, but at the time I truly thought the biggest danger would
be the masterless bands of orcs. It was not until after the elves had
departed that I started sensing strange and powerful magic from within
Mordor.”
“Next Gandalf went to Lord Elrond.” The king
resumed. “Elrond recalled that there had been a first such phenomenon
at the beginning of the second age, but the signs stopped of themselves.
He suggested Gandalf seek counsel with the Lady of the Wood but all
she would say was that the leader of the new age must go to the Black
Tower- Faramir, what is wrong?”
Dream images flooded my mind. I saw the black tower and super
imposed over it an image of scales. On one side of the balance stood
a small group of men. I somehow knew that I stood among them. As the
dream image grew clearer I recognized my king and there were three others
besides Elessar. Only one was a man- I saw now- Gandalf was in the group
along with a dwarf and an elf. On the other balance I felt rather than
saw the weight of history as well as a force that was somehow alien.
Next, I saw a pool of water that shimmered to reveal images of past
and future. The pool was then replaced by the One Ring that had been
destroyed. A third image was now displayed before me but my gaze seemed
always to slide off it and I could not tell what it was I saw. I knew
these images for I had dreamed them every night for the past eight nights
but each morning they had been sent fleeing from my mind by the terrible
headaches. I would not have remembered now except that I had dreamed
again this very afternoon but then the embarrassment of my sleeping
with- of my sleeping had distracted me from recalling the dream.
“Faramir. Faramir!” I recognized the voice and
made my way towards it. I suddenly realized that I was surrounded by
concerned faces. Éowyn was kneeling by my chair and chafing my hands.
Gandalf hovered near peering with worried owlish eyes into my face.
The queen stood a little ways away, ready to carry out any practical
suggestion made by her husband or the wizard. The king stood directly
in front of me, holding me by the shoulders. Of course it had been Elessar’s
summons that had snapped me back to myself.
“Dream . . .” I still felt a little foggy. I
shook my head to clear it.
“What, just now? Did you dream just now?” Gandalf
demanded.
“No, not just now. Last night and before. I only just
now remembered. When you, my lord, spoke of the black tower, it all
came back to me.” I replied doing my best to appear in control.
The wizard threw questions at me fast and furious. ‘When
did I first have the dream?’ ‘Was it the same dream every
time?’ ‘Why had I not mentioned it earlier?’ ‘Had
I always had headaches?’ ‘What was the dream?’ I answered
as well as I could and when I had described the dream. Everyone was
silent for a moment.
“What was different about the last time you had the
dream, Faramir? Why did you not get a headache then?” The wizard
asked in all innocence. I flushed crimson.
“I am afraid the council this morning was particularly
animated and as a result we all over indulged a bit at lunch. After
a little more talk it was difficult not to drowse for a while. I cannot
think what you mean by asking ‘what was different,’ Gandalf.”
The king answered for me and I felt the rush of panic subside a little.
“Ah, so that was why you sent a message asking me to
review the building contracts for the third level for you. You have
been playing truant, Aragorn. And I spent all day frightened that you
were trying to punish me for some imagined fault.” The queen feigned
indignation and her pretended pout was inexpressibly sweet.
“I must be a monster that my own wife could believe
me so cruel. Again I apologize, beloved, I shall never forgive myself
for not defending you from that fierce horde of legal documents.”
The king answered her in tones of mock despair and self reproach. The
two could not keep their faces straight, however. By the time Elessar
had finished speaking they were grinning at each other. One could not
help but smile with them.
“Well,” Gandalf put in breaking the mood, “Faramir’s
dream supports lady Galadriel’s advice. We must go to Bara-Dur,
Aragorn, the sooner the better.
The queen’s grin had disappeared and she turned to
me, a look of pleading in her eyes. “Faramir, in your dream, the
elf, could it have been me?”
I hated to disappoint her but I had no choice. “No,
lady. The elf in my dream was not only male but blond.” At my
words her face fell and she sank back into her chair. The king was up
immediately to put his arms around her.
“That is no mystery. A blond elf with a dwarf could
only be Legolas and Gimli.” Gandalf said chewing his lip. I could
not be sure but the dream image of the pair fit my memory of the two
heroes of the ring quest and I nodded to myself.
“But Legolas and Gimli are traveling. They could be
anywhere in Middle- Earth. If they are meant to accompany you then surely
you will not have to leave soon.” The queen had recovered herself
although she still held the king’s hand tightly.
“What? Did I not say before? Legolas and Gimli are
here now.” said Gandalf in full blown absent-minded mage character.
“What?” Elessar demanded incredulous.
“Yes, surely I mentioned it. I met them on my way to
Minas Tirith. They had heard that there was something you wanted to
discuss with them so they were on their way to visit. When we met I
told them a little of my concerns and from then on they would not be
turned aside from this new adventure. This is all quite serendipitous,
really.” Said the wizard in the tone of one who never ceases to
be amazed by life’s coincidences.
“But where are they, now? Why did they not come with
you?” The king asked a note of impatience entering his voice.
“I left them in the vestibule or was it an antechamber.
I don’t recall precisely. They said something about refusing to
break in upon a man while he is in the middle of his dinner and would
not follow me.” The wizard shrugged his shoulders helplessly.
Elessar sighed and helped the queen to her feet. “Éowyn,
Faramir, could I impose upon you to summon as much of the council as
remains in the City while we go and find our guests?”
“Sire, No! You are not actually considering leaving
with this man.” Éowyn was pale and she was looking murder at the
wizard.
“We will discuss it in council, Éowyn,” replied
the king. Éowyn looked upset but she knew the council would not allow
our king to leave us so she bowed in temporary submission.
We were almost out of the room when the wizard spoke. “With
your permission, Aragorn, I would like to ask Faramir some more questions.”
I had not thought it possible but Éowyn’s glare grew harder. She
held my hand tightly, unwilling to surrender me to the wizard’s
interrogation.
The king had also been anxious to leave and seek his friends
but he stopped to consider Gandalf’s request. Elessar took in
the possessive grip Éowyn had on my hand as well as my obvious reluctance
to talk at any greater length about my dream. “We will discuss
it all in council, Gandalf.” With that Éowyn and I departed to
search for the leaders of the land.
An hour later Éowyn and I stood in the council chamber with
as many of the wise men of the kingdom as we had been able to find.
Unfortunately, Prince Imrahil had already departed for Dol Armoth and
a few of the younger councilmen had also left to attend to urgent business.
The atmosphere was thick with apprehension. Éowyn and I had been as
diplomatic as we were able without revealing anything but late night
summonses were a rare phenomenon and everyone was anxious. I studied
the nervous faces. I wondered if they would be able to resist Gandalf’s
advice. I let my gaze linger upon Lord Everstil, the King’s Champion.
In the absence of Imrahil, Everstil would be the most opposed to allowing
the king to leave the City without a full contingent of guards. Though,
the title ‘King’s Champion’ was largely meaningless
since no one issued personal challenges to the king these days, Everstil
still saw himself as personally responsible for the king’s safety.
The man reminded me much of Boromir and for that reason I liked him
very much but for the same reason it was often difficult for me to spend
time with him.
Éowyn’s thoughts must have tracked mine for she squeezed
my hand. “Neither you nor the king will go on this foolish expedition.
You are both needed here. Damn Gandalf and his fantasies.”
“But my dream Éowyn, I cannot dismiss that as fantasy.
Though I wish I could. Perhaps if I go then it will not be necessary
for the king to go also.” I didn’t really believe this but
I felt a terrible sense of responsibility. I knew my dream would convince
many who could ignore Gandalf and I did not wish for Elessar to go to
Mordor any more than Éowyn did.
Before Éowyn could reply the king entered with the queen,
Gandalf, Legolas and Gimli. The king summarized Gandalf’s information
as well as my dream. When he finished he took a deep breath: “I
am inclined to believe that there exists a serious threat to Middle
Earth that will be best allayed if Faramir and I accompany Gandalf,
Legolas and Gimli to the Black Tower as early as possible, that is,
tomorrow dawn. But I would hear your opinions on this matter, my friends.”
There was a moment’s silence as those around the table
tried to absorb what had been said. As I had guessed Lord Everstil was
the first to speak. “I see no threat to Middle Earth generally
or Gondor specifically in this tale. What concern is it of ours if it
snows in July in Mordor? If the wizard finds it troubling then perhaps
he might find some volunteers among our young men to investigate. I
beg your pardon my lord but neither you nor the lord Faramir has any
business on such an errand.” Everstil spoke in the controlled
tone of someone carefully explaining something that was so obvious that
it really should not have to be explained. There was vigorous nodding
all around the table. “Don’t be deliberately dense. This
is not simply a question of weather, that is only a symptom. I have
sensed magic I cannot understand. There will be some terrible consequence
if we ignore this summons or if the wrong person responds first.”
Gandalf retorted.
Something Gandalf said suddenly struck a cord. ‘Summons’,
yes the dream had been a summons. It was a summons that had been sent
in the beginning of previous ages and answered by the Dark Lord and
the Lady of the Wood. I shivered a little: What would this strange power
make of the king of men?
As I pursued my own thoughts the debate raged around me.
Hours passed and tempers grew short. Occasionally one or another of
the councilmen would interject a point but the real sport was between
Gandalf and Everstil. “For the love of reason, man, if ill befalls
Middle Earth then necessarily ill will befall Gondor. In case you had
not noticed there is a world beyond the City gates.” Insisted
the wizard. Gandalf who could be tetchy at the best of times was becoming
sarcastic.
“That is not fair and you know it. Gondor has done
more, sacrificed more for the protection of Middle Earth than any other
power. Well, enough is enough. You want money? Men? Arms? Fine. But
we have waited generations for the return of the kings, we are not going
to risk losing him, not now! not ever!” Everstil was definitely
ahead on points. I wanted to agree with him but the damn dream would
not let me so I remained silent.
“With great power comes great responsibility, Everstil.
You are not children that you may think only of yourselves” Even
to my somewhat sympathetic ear the wizard’s rejoinder sounded
both fatuous and offensive.
Everstil was angry, frustrated and tired. He was past the
point of being able to judge his words carefully before speaking. “Tell
that to the sodding elves. How dare you prate to men of responsibility?
Let the all- favored ‘first born’ share some of the burden.
Gods know how little of an elf’s immortal life is spent in healing
the sick, feeding the hungry and defending the weak.” As soon
as the words were out it was obvious he wished to recall them. There
was an abrupt silence. Everyone took a sudden and overpowering interest
in examining the table top.
Prince Legolas looked as though Everstil’s tirade had
shocked him speechless. The queen only appeared a little sad. I saw
from under my eyelashes that Gandalf’s face was carefully blank.
I replayed the preceding hours in my head. It was just possible that
the wizard had been bating Everstil from the very start. If so it had
been a dirty but effective tactic. The king regarded Everstil with a
politely inquisitive look which was all the more intimidating because
of its mildness.
“My Lady Queen, Prince Legolas, I apologize. I spoke
without thinking. I meant no insult to you or to your people.”
The apology sounded very loud in the silence of the room. The queen
nodded with her usual grace. Prince Legolas still looked affronted but
pulled himself together and made a hand gesture that seemed to say:
‘Both insult and apology are of like indifference to me.’
“I think that we have learned all that might be learned
from this discussion. I thank you all for your contributions. Though
it grieves me I feel I have no choice but to accept the advice of Gandalf
and Lady Galadriel supported as it is by Lord Faramir’s dream-vision.
I promise I shall be absent for as brief a time as possible. In the
meanwhile I have no hesitation in entrusting the rule of the realm to
the queen who will be ably advised by both Prince Imrahil and the Lady
Éowyn as well as this council. Gandalf, Prince Legolas, Lord Gimli and
I will leave tomorrow morning. My lord Faramir would you please join
this company.” At this I bowed my head in acceptance of what I
understood to be a politely phrased command. Having received my acknowledgment
the king continued. “It grows late. I thank you all again for
your patience.”
The council was dismissed and the officers began to form
little clusters of shock or despondence. With a motion of his hand the
king summoned Éowyn to his side. Though Éowyn heartily opposed the king’s
leaving she could not help but be flattered at being specifically named
along with Prince Imrahil to help govern Gondor. When she returned to
me she said in a neutral tone: “If you have a headache tonight
I am to send for him immediately.”
I blushed. “That is really not necessary. I can deal
with any-”
Éowyn cut me off. “I have no doubt, my love, but I
must follow orders.” I knew Éowyn worried about me and that she
was glad of the king’s command but she did not let her tone reflect
her approval. She was always good to me like that.
The first councilman had nearly made his way to the door
when the king spoke once more. “My lord Everstil, a moment if
you please.”
At this ominous request the dignified leading men of Gondor
nearly stampeded over one another to escape the room. Éowyn and I were
the last to leave. I turned to close the doors behind us and saw lord
Everstil standing proudly but not defiantly before the king. I hastily
shut the door. The man was certainly in for a severe dressing down.
Everstil was entitled to his opinion- and who did not think as he had
spoken at least once in a while- but the king was very protective of
the queen. Everstil had not only insulted her but he had also insulted
Prince Legolas, a hero of the ring fellowship and a royal guest.
Éowyn had been trying to see over my shoulder into the room.
“I would give my sword arm to be behind one of those arrases.”
She said, once the door was closed. A very odd smile tugged at the corners
of her mouth.
“I thought you were fond of lord Everstil.” I
said surprised. Éowyn did not usually delight in the discomfort of others.
“I am.” She replied, a little perplexed as though
my comment was in no way pertinent to her original statement. “Perhaps
if I approach him correctly he will tell me what was said.”
I gazed at her in frank astonishment. I did not understand
her interest in the matter. I felt a little giddy and lightheaded at
the mere thought of what was going on between Everstil and the king.
If I had been in Everstil’s place nothing would convince me to
reveal details of such an encounter. Another woman might have said ‘not
everyone is as closed mouthed as you on matters of emotional significance’
but my wife did not say this. She reached up to kiss me and said: “I
will miss you, Faramir, but I know you will bring great honor to our
House on this quest.” As I have said she was ever good to me.
I had no headaches that night, a fact for which I duly gave
thanks. A servant had come before dawn with a fully loaded pack and
clothing more suitable to travel than court appearances. As sun rose
in the east I was standing in the courtyard with Éowyn. Gandalf was
already mounted and looking about impatiently for the rest of the group.
Most of those who had been at the council were there to wish the travelers
safe journey. Men came up to me to shake my hand and wish me well. The
elf and dwarf were preparing to mount, Arod and a squire had brought
up my horse.
Suddenly my shoulder was caught in a vicelike grip and I
was spun around. “Well, lord Faramir, I cannot say that I would
not prefer to be going in your place.” Lord Everstil gave me a
half-hearted smile to show that he did not mean to diminish me. “Or
better yet I would rather be going in his place.” It was obvious
who Everstil referred to.
“In that last we are of like mind.” I answered
sincerely.
“Well, do take care of him, Faramir. It is important,
you know. Take care of yourself too.” He did not wait for a reply,
but slapped me on the back and quickly stalked off.
“Where is the king?” I whispered to Éowyn, rubbing
my shoulder and searching the small groups of people.
“He is talking with the queen. Do you not see him?”
Éowyn sounded surprised as she gestured toward the throng surrounding
lady Arwen.
I returned my gaze to the queen. There was a tall hooded
man beside her. Just then the hooded man turned and came toward us,
the queen walking at his side. As he faced us I saw the king. He was
dressed as a simple ranger from the north. I would always recognize
my king but he had transformed his bearing as well as his raiment. He
moved like a predatory animal, all stealth and danger. There was something
wild in his looks that I had never seen before.
“Did you sleep well, Faramir?” Lady Arwen inquired.
She stood arm in arm with the king. The image of the noble lady standing
next to the rough traveler should have appeared strange but it did not.
“Yes, thank you, ma’am.” I answered. At
my reply the king shot Éowyn a quick glance and my wife nodded almost
imperceptibly. Apparently my story would not be accepted without verification.
The queen leaned forward to kiss my cheek. “Remember
what I have said, Faramir. I trust you to do all you can to ensure my
husband’s happiness.” I felt her warm breath against my
ear and I was reminded of Spring. When she had finished whispering she
lay a hand on my shoulder in benediction. I took her hand from my shoulder
and kissed it softly. I would do all I could to protect and serve my
king but I wondered at her odd choice of words.
While the queen spoke to me Elessar opened his arms to Éowyn
and she walked unhesitatingly into his embrace. If any words passed
between them I could not tell. After a moment the two broke apart and
the king bent down to kiss her on the forehead. After that Éowyn bowed
very low and returned to stand next to me.
“I love you, Éowyn. I shall return soon.” I told
her. Then I kissed my wife deeply, wishing her an affectionate farewell.
Then I turned and mounted my horse.
The king and queen were also saying a final good bye but
I did not want to watch. The whole courtyard was staring at them. They
did not need my eyes on them as well. I rode over to where Gandalf sat
muttering curses under his breath and waited, my eyes lowered to the
ground.
Moments later the king was mounted. With a final exasperated
sigh the wizard led the way out of the courtyard. Soon the five of us
were past the City gates heading east into the sun.
In the fist few days of our journey we pushed hard, riding
long into the night and resting infrequently. I tried to stay in the
background as much as possible. In the years since the end of the ring
war I had lost some of my stamina and I often had no energy left at
the end of a day. Also Elessar, Gandalf, Legolas and Gimli had traveled
together before. I felt a bit as though I were the odd one out. I was
most ill at ease around Prince Legolas and Lord Gimli. The way they
interacted with one another was very disconcerting. The first time I
heard Prince Legolas suggest that ‘keeping watch was unnecessary
so long as Gimli continued to snore for no creature would dare risk
its eardrums by approaching’ I thought we would have a full scale
war on our hands. I had met them both at Elessar’s coronation
but everyone had still been in a state of near shock and I did not remember
much about them. So many legends had grown up around the two but none
of the stories mentioned the constant teasing and friendly bickering.
The only opportunity for conversation came in the evening
before exhaustion overtook us. The former ring fellowship had many jokes
and stories to share with one another. Out of misguided pity, occasionally
someone would try to draw me into the discussion. “Lembas and
dainty little pastries are all very well but in the end a person needs
something to sink his teeth into, something that will stick to his ribs.
Let us put the question to an impartial observer. What say you, lord
Faramir, would pretty elfish fare or wholesome, nourishing dwarfish
food suit you better on a campaign?” Gimli asked me on the second
evening of our journey after a rather lengthy debate with Legolas over
rations.
“There is little opportunity to sample either cuisine
in the cities of men, lord Gimli.” I demurred, unwilling to take
sides in an argument when I had no strong feelings either way. “That
is no answer. You are sophisticated- as far as that term may be applied
to a man; surely you have an opinion.” Said the dwarf, clapping
me on the back with an enthusiasm that was probably meant to be encouraging.
“Leave him be, Friend Gimli. Not everyone interprets
an invitation to join a quarrel as a friendly overture.” The elf
remonstrated turning an appraising eye on me.
“Your pardon Lord Gimli, Prince Legolas. It is not
easy for me to tell what may rightly be said in jest. We are not well
acquainted and I would prefer not to test my boundaries so soon.”
I replied with what dignity I could muster.
The elf prince laughed good naturedly. “Well, in the
interests of bettering our acquaintance I shall call you ‘Faramir’
and you shall call me ‘Legolas’. Thus, we shall become informal
with one another by natural degrees.”
“You had better call me ‘Gimli’, then.
We wouldn’t want to embarrass the elf by showing proper manners,
would we?” Announced the dwarf with another bone jarring thump
to my back.
“Legolas and Gimli” I said nodding to each as
I spoke the names without the honorifics. How bizarre it seemed to address
a Mirkwood prince and a high noble of the Lonely Mountain so casually.
“While we are on the subject of names, for this expedition
I would like you to call me ‘Aragorn’, Faramir. We are proceeding
as simple travelers after all.” The king spoke quietly and yet
his voice seemed to carry silencing any competing sounds. He was leaning
against a tree and smoking his pipe watching all that happened around
him.
“Why not ‘Strider’? Isn’t that the
name you use when you play humble ranger?” The dwarf asked with
his usual gruff tone.
“Or ‘Thorongil’? I rather liked ‘Thorongil’;
it had such an aura of mystery about it.” The elf added, gently
mocking.
Rather than responding in kind the king answered seriously:
“I suppose I think of myself as ‘Aragorn’.”
Then after reflecting a moment he added: “At least, most of the
time that is how I think of myself.” I was fascinated. I tried
to think of how I thought of myself, as ‘Faramir’ probably
or ‘damn fool’ more often. Of course Aragorn would always
be ‘my lord’ to me however he thought of himself. Still
I could not ignore his request, perhaps I could call him ‘lord
Aragorn’ as a compromise solution. I tried it and he looked amused
but also a little sad.
As we drew nearer to Mordor and the Black Tower, we had to
slow our pace. The terrain was less familiar and we were attacked often
in the nights by confused and disorganized bands or orcs. Without anyone
to lead them the orcs would give up after only a few of their number
had been killed, but there were always more orcs later. The first time
the orcs had attacked Gandalf had been on watch. I woke from sleep at
his shout of alarm and I had just enough time to find my sword and get
to my feet before they were upon us. I quickly realized that I was in
the company of true warriors. My brother had been one such, but I was
only as good as diligent training and effort could make a man. Even
Gandalf who did not use magic for fear of attracting attention wielded
his staff as though he were born to it. The others took absurd risks
darting under the enemy’s guard in the sure and certain knowledge
that they were too strong, too fast and too good to be caught. I fought
conservatively keeping close to my king’s side. I did little to
protect him, I fear. He protected himself well enough.
As we traveled I had grown more comfortable with my companions.
I could not bring myself to join the teasing between prin- between Legolas
and Gimli but I grew to appreciate it. Most of the quarrels seemed to
be for the benefit of the observers anyway to conceal the true depth
of their friendship. Gandalf seemed absorbed in his own thoughts most
of the time. He usually ignored me except to abruptly ask some question
about my dream or my headaches that he had already asked several times
before. I attributed it to a wizard’s natural testiness and took
no offense. My lord was quieter than he had been in Gondor. He could
never have been described as garrulous, yet now he did not need to give
orders, soothe ruffled feelings, give out praise, deliver reprimands
or keep discussions on task. I wondered if he was happier letting others
do most of the talking.
When we finally crossed the border into Mordor we found the
land desolate and ugly. Orcs attacked more often, sometimes three of
four times in a single night. Even though the orcs did not truly pose
a great threat I was still very nervous when I saw Aragorn rise from
his place with an empty canteen and disappear into the night in the
direction of a sluggish stream we had found earlier. I grabbed my own
canteen and hurried after him.
“Faramir that bag is nearly three quarters full.”
The voice of Legolas stopped me in mid stride. Elves are indeed sharp
sighted.
“It won’t be by the time I have caught up to
him.” I answered in haste to be on my way.
Gimli chuckled but the elf did not. “Perhaps he wishes
to have some time to himself.” The elf suggested in a tone which
implied that the very smartest thing I could do would be to sit down
and be quiet.
I wasn’t intimidated by the elf’s tone. I respected
the friendship between my lord and the Mirkwood prince but I would not
leave my king unattended in a strange land. I was formulating a polite
but firm response when the dwarf spoke. “Now you leave him be,
Friend Legolas. He is only doing his duty. If Aragorn was unwilling
to spend the rest of his life under the watchful eye of his devoted
subjects then he never should have accepted the crown.”
Legolas had no answer to this and I was free to go on my
way but now I did feel a certain guilt. After a moment’s struggle
I decided that I had to go after him. I would try to be inconspicuous
but even the remote chance that Aragorn might be in danger out there
all alone was simply too abhorrent to even contemplate. I had no choice.
I had to go.
I poured the contents of my three quarters full canteen out
as I made my way to the river. I used my own hard won skills of stealth
to keep silent as I moved. If I could protect his privacy while still
making sure he was safe then I would. When I emerged from the sparse
tree cover I saw the king sitting cross legged on the river’s
bank gazing out. I thought the elf had been right he did want time to
himself. A terrifying thought struck me. How much of a burden was his
kingship to him? He was a great king, truly Gondor was lucky, but was
he happy? Did he miss the life of a free wanderer? He had always seemed
to be quite content occasionally joyful but sometimes there was a sadness,
a yearning in his eyes. Oh gods, what if Gondor lost him. . . What if
I lost him!
In my sudden panic I moved forward, I had an almost irresistible
urge to run to him and hold him so he could not disappear into the wild.
While I fought down my absurd impulse I stepped on some dry underbrush
and there was a cracking sound. In one fluid motion Aragorn stood, turned
toward the sound and drew his sword. He was staring straight at me though
I doubted he could see me in the shadow of the trees. I cursed my own
idiocy and emerged from the shelter with my arms extended in the universal
gesture of harmlessness. I had taken three of four steps before he recognized
me and lowered his weapon.
“If you had needed water, Faramir, I could have easily
fetched it.” He said eyeing the empty canteen I held before me
almost like a shield.
“I’m sorry to intrude, my lord Aragorn, but if
anything were to happen to you there are many in Gondor who would have
my head. Indeed my wife would be at the front of the line.” As
soon as I said it I realized how stupid it sounded, the idea that I
could somehow manage to protect him. “I can wait back here a little
ways until you are ready to return to camp. I’m sorry. I’ll
try not to disturb you again.” I offered backing away.
“No, you need not retreat. Come, bear me company a
while. I shall have to be extra cautious from now on. I would hate for
any ill to befall you for my sake especially at the hands of the lovely
Éowyn.” He sounded sincere but he was ever courteous especially
to those he thought particularly vulnerable or in need of protection.
When I was seated next to him looking out over the river
he asked, “Have you had a chance to think further about our mission?”
I was glad of the question for ideas had been percolating
through my subconscious since the council. “I interpret my dream
to mean that both Galardriel’s mirror and Sauron’s ring
were gifts or somehow a product of an encounter with whatever power
calls from Bara’dur. I could not see the third image in my dream
because men have not been offered anything yet.”
The king gazed at the water. “Do you think there is
some sort of test for us to face?”
I had struggled with this for a while. “I don’t
know. I thought so at first but I cannot imagine a test that both Galadriel
and Sauron could pass.”
“Perhaps there is a different test for each age.”
Aragorn suggested. It was plausible or at least as plausible as anything
else in this madness.
We continued to speculate about what awaited us at the end
of our journey but in the end there was no way for us to know until
we arrived. We sat in companionable silence for a while watching the
reflection of the starlight on the water. Finally, my lord turned to
me. “Was there something that you wanted to talk about- I mean
was there any reason that you came seeking me, besides your laudable
conscientiousness and the water of course?” Was there a note of
shyness in his tone? No, of course not. I was being absurd.
“No- well yes, that is, I just wondered- its none of
my business certainly- but it occurred to me that you might be glad
to be living the life of a ranger once again.” I don’t know
why I gave voice to the fear that had assailed me earlier. Aragorn often
managed to ask me what I was thinking when I was thinking something
presumptions. I was always so flustered that I ended up saying more
than I should.
To my surprise he laughed, “Do you mean do I miss sleeping
in the cold and the rain? Eating only what I can catch or carry? Enduring
the scorn of honest men and fleeing from thieves? No, Faramir, I do
not miss the life of a ranger.”
I was reassured and yet I had to keep pressing. “What
of freedom and privacy, does not a ranger have these?”
“‘No man is free who needs air to breathe.’
A ranger is as much a prisoner of time and chance as any. As for privacy,
well, I am able to keep my own secrets. There are even secrets I wish
to reveal but I find I cannot.” He spoke wistfully and I was saddened
by his sadness.
“My lord, I-” Aragorn had cut me off gesturing
urgently for silence, then I heard it too. There was a rustling and
a muffled sound of metal against metal. We were both on our feet with
our swords drawn when the orcs fell upon us. As I always did in battle
I heard in my mind the voice of my old fencing master calling out commands:
‘Parry, parry, dodge left, wait, slash upward, stab forward.’
Beside me the “Flame of the West” was glutting itself on
orc blood. Soon the ground was littered with stinking carcasses. In
all previous attacks the orcs had run shrieking back into the night
by the time we had killed so many of their number. This time, however,
the orcs kept coming.
With our backs to the river we could not be surrounded. Orcs
were stupid creatures that depended upon overwhelming numbers and the
fear of their victims in battle. They had no chance against men trained
in combat who stood their ground so why did they keep coming? I felt
something sing past my face not so much as a breath away from my throat.
I looked around distracted and I barely dodged a well aimed knife to
my ribs. I got my sword up in time to block the second attack but I
had seen the cause of the distraction. A little distance away stood
the largest orc I had ever seen. He carried a bow and he was grinning.
Another arrow sailed past me even closer than last time. The creature
was toying with me. I tried to keep low using the orcs in front of me
as a shield even as I fought them.
“My lord,” I called out to warn the king of the
new threat. Aragorn, intent on the task before him, had not yet noticed
the tall orc. As I shouted a third arrow flew over my head grazing my
scalp. Aragorn turned in time to see the arrow and then his eye raced
to the tall orc. He let out an almost animal cry of rage. He dispatched
the orc before him with a stroke that cut from the creature’s
right shoulder to its left hip. Then he was running towards the bow
wielder. With a studied nonchalance the large orc cast aside the bow
and drew a long sword then took up a fighting stance to await Aragorn’s
arrival. I waded through the orcs still swarming around me in Aragorn’s
wake. I fought to keep up but I was bogged down and I had to stop to
fight the creatures before me.
With a loud clash the king crossed swords with the monster.
I had to keep part of my attention on my own battle but my eyes danced
constantly to my lord. The creature could not have been an orc; it fought
with too much skill and too much strength. Orcs were dying around me
but I hardly noticed as I hacked through bone and sinew. Aragorn was
attacking aggressively stroke followed stroke with lightening speed.
The monster did not make any move to attack but defended itself with
an economy of motion. Perhaps it hoped Aragorn would exhaust himself
and then it could move in for the kill. But Aragorn did not tire if
anything he moved faster. I had seen him fight often on this journey
and before. He always seemed to move with a sort of cold blooded efficiency,
but now he was fueled by red hot fury. With a snarl of triumph Aragorn
broke through the creature’s guard and buried Andúril so deep
into the thing’s chest that the tip emerged on the other side.
It was only when the brute hit the ground that I realized that the rest
of the attackers had died by my hand.
Aragorn had to put his boot on the monster’s neck to
tug Andúril free. Sword thrust in his belt he stalked back to where
I stood. I could still feel the anger radiating off of him. “Are
you hurt? Did it hurt you?” His voice was thick and hoarse with
urgency. He had taken me by the shoulders and by the look on his face
I expected him to crush my bones to powder but his grip was only firm
not painful.
“No, no, I’m all right” I replied, a little
frightened by his intensity. I lifted my hand to my forehead where a
tiny trickle of blood from my scalp wound had already dried. “It
was the shallowest of cuts. Are you unharmed?” I asked hoping
he would lose that terrible look in his eye.
He did not answer my question but said instead: “That
was a Uruk-hai.”
“Boromir,” I whispered closing my eyes. My brother
always provoked strong feelings in those who knew him. Aragorn must
have cared for him very much.
“What happened here?” Asked Gandalf who had just
come upon us with Legolas and Gimli.
“Doesn’t look like they left any fun for us.”
Groused the dwarf.
“We were getting worried about you.” Added the
elf. Quickly Aragorn explained all that had happened as we moved back
to our camp. “I don’t like this at all. It feels deliberate.
I have been meditating upon this journey and-”
The wizard was cut off by Gimli’s spluttering. “Meditating,
is it? I would have said you were sulking.”
“Where is your respect for the aged, Gimli? Let us
say he was moping- no brooding that makes his sulkiness seem like its
dignified.” Legolas admonished.
“If I wanted cheeky answers I would be traveling with
hobbits for at least they can cook.” The wizard shot back. Legolas
had been the one to prepare our evening meal. We were well on our way
to a complete reprise of the debate of a few days ago when the wizard
ended the levity by striking his staff on the ground.
“As I was saying I doubt that Faramir’s headaches
which kept him from remembering his dreams as well as the fact that
orcs led by a Uruk-hai attack when the humans of our company are isolated
from the rest of us can be explained by coincidence. For myself I have
sent my mind questing through the ether and each time I have been thrown
back. Someone is working against us. We must be on our guard.”
At dawn we stood at the entrance to the Black Tower, the
gate open before us. We had arrived the afternoon before but no one
had wanted to begin the exploration of Bara-Dur with evening approaching
so we had waited at the gate. One could see nothing save barren rock
formations that reached up to pierce the sky scattered over the landscape.
No bird or animal stirred within the dark tower’s shadow. Isolated
patches of scrub grass were the only evidence of plant life that could
be seen when one stood at the bottom of the tower. Our own horses were
skittish but they succumbed to our soothing.
“Well, the object of our quest lies within our grasp
shall we go on?” Gimli asked adjusting his axe in his belt and
preparing to march forward.
“I shall remain here. I would prefer not to be closed
within the walls of Sauron’s lair. If you have need call to me
and I shall come but for now let me hold the camp and keep watch.”
Legolas looked pale as he spoke.
“Yes, elf. That is well. We may proceed with greater
assurance knowing a prince of Mirkwood guards our backs.” The
dwarf said reassuringly patting Legolas on the arm, before returning
to where the rest of us stood. I suppose elves must be more susceptible
to the atmosphere of a place than mortals.
The dark tower was built along a similar model to any lord’s
hall. There were guard rooms, kitchens, guest quarters, and store rooms.
We spent hours wandering long corridors and climbing tall towers. All
these rooms, however, were completely empty. There was not so much as
a dust mote. Though, it was eerie we were heartily grateful for this
emptiness when we came to the dungeons. The only room that had anything
to distinguish it was the great hall where stood a large throne set
on a dais. The throne was made to fit the proportions of a normal sized
man but it had been carved from solid rock and gave an impression of
immense size, age and power. I noticed that we all avoided standing
directly before it.
Behind the throne there was a huge arch decorated with deep
carvings and a tapestry covered the wall. The tapestry seemed, at first,
to be a random array of colors but the more I looked at it the more
I felt there was a pattern just beyond my ability to perceive. The wall
hanging must have been a comparatively recent addition or surely the
fabric would have rotted away. Using his staff Gandalf moved the tapestry
aside. There was nothing behind the tapestry but bare wall.
Gimli had laid his hand on the arch with a reverent touch.
“This stone is older than the rest of this place. Look at the
keystone. I would guess that the entire tower had been built around
the arch. This is not of the dark lord’s construction. I can make
nothing of these carvings, though. I wonder how they were made.”
He was caressing the stone as it sloped gently upward. He wore the same
expression on his face that I had seen Queen Arwen wear standing in
her garden.
At the dwarf’s words Gandalf took a keener interest
in the carvings, peering at them from different angles. “They
could be runes.” The wizard opined unrolling a sheet of parchment
from his satchel, holding it over the indentations in the stone and
rubbing a piece of charcoal over the parchment. “I wish I had
my books with me. I suppose that figure could be related to the ancient
K’marhas symbol for ‘three’.” Gandalf’s
eyes were starting to take on the slightly glazed look of a scholar
faced with an interesting puzzle.
Aragorn placed a gentle hand on the wizard’s shoulder.
“It grows late. Let us return to camp. We can study the symbols
more tomorrow.” The wizard nodded a little absently his mind still
on deciphering the carven figures.
When we emerged into the late afternoon light, Legolas came
up to meet us with a look of relief. “Did you find what you were
looking for?” He asked.
“Perhaps we have found a clue.” The wizard mused.
“Tell me, Prince, what do you make of this?” Gandalf asked
retrieving the parchment that contained a copy of some of the arch’s
symbols. The two were soon seated by a small fire, heads close together
in discussion. I took the first watch and the elf and wizard were still
talking in low voices by the time I roused Gimli.
When I woke in the morning Gandalf and Legolas were still
puzzling over the parchment. I wondered if they had slept at all. Gimli
still slept and Aragorn was up tending the horses. I got up and went
to join my lord by the horses. We exchanged greetings and I began checking
the hooves of my mount. “Do you know if they have made any progress
on those symbols?” I asked referring to the two oldest members
of our company.
“I imagine that they have made some or they would not
have so much to talk about. It would be better, though, if we did not
anticipate much success, so that we can be properly awed when we are
presented with a perfect translation.” I smiled at that. I knew
very well that the wizard enjoyed showing off and I imagined the elf
probably didn’t mind it too much either. Gimli was awake and scavenging
through our packs for something to eat when a loud cough signaled us
all that the elf and wizard were ready to share what they had discovered.
Aragorn, Gimli and I gathered around appropriately attentive. First,
Gandalf described a little of the difficulty of trying to understand
symbols that were so ancient. After several minutes of this he came
to the heart of the matter. “The runes on the arch invite those
who would lead the new age to enter and endure a three day test.”
Announced the wizard with considerable satisfaction. Aragorn and I were
suitably impressed. Gimli was not so effusive but even he admitted that
it was quite a feat to translate the symbols of a dead language armed
only with a partial knowledge of a second dead language that had been
derived from the first.
“But ‘enter’ what? Where?” asked
the dwarf once Gandalf and Legolas had finished basking in the well
earned praise.
“The arch, I would think” Gandalf answered tentatively.
“There was nothing but a stone wall behind the arch.
Before you ask I am certain that that wall is as old as the arch itself
and I would not be surprised if both were standing at the creation of
the world. There is no chance that wall was built to conceal something
through the arch” Gimli spoke with the assurance of one who could
find an ounce of quartz in a marble quarry by smell alone.
“Maybe there is some concealed entrance in the wall?”
Offered Aragorn diffidently.
“Possible, but such a thing would have had to be cunningly
devised to have escaped my notice.” The dwarf said.
“There was something very odd about that tapestry.”
It wasn’t until I saw that everyone’s eyes focused on me
that I realized I had spoken the thought aloud. I blushed and made a
gesture to indicate that my previous comment should be ignored.
“Well, why should we speculate when the answer could
be before us. I am anxious to translate the rest of the symbols.”
Gandalf said, thankfully drawing everyone’s attention away from
me and my foolish tongue. “Legolas it would save time if you would
come to see the arch.” This last was said carefully.
“I will stay here.” The Mirkwood prince replied.
Gandalf looked like he wanted to press the issue. Gimli moved
to Legolas and took up a stance that seemed to say ‘if the elf
doesn’t want to go then the elf isn’t going to go.’
“Come Gandalf, the sooner we copy the remaining runes
the sooner you may begin your miraculous translation.” Aragorn
prodded. Gandalf shrugged and moved toward the tower. Gimli made his
own way to the gate anxious to get another look at the ancient stone.
Only when the two would-be antagonists had passed through the gate did
Aragorn follow. As usual I trailed unobtrusively at his heels. When
we returned to the arch Gandalf set about studying the remaining runes.
Gimli and Aragorn began carefully going over the stone wall closest
to the arch looking for some flaw that might trigger an opening. My
eye was again caught by the maddening almost-pattern of the tapestry.
Almost without conscious decision I reached out a hand to the colors
which now seemed to be undulating. Instead of touching woven silk the
tips of my fingers vanished. I yelped and jumped backwards clutching
my hand. I looked down at my hand in considerable trepidation, but it
was whole. I rubbed the pads of my fingers together. Everything felt
normal.
“What is it, Faramir?” Aragorn asked rising to
his feet from where he had knelt examining the wall at my little mew
of distress. Gimli also cast an inquiring look in my direction, though
he had not bothered to get up. Gandalf still stared at the arch oblivious
to his surroundings.
“My lord, I think I have found something interesting.”
I said excited by the thrill of discovery.
“Gandalf. Gandalf!” The king nearly had to shout
to get the wizard’s attention. “Show us, Faramir.”
he said, turning again to me.
Once again, I cautiously extended my hand toward the tapestry.
My fingers had disappeared up to the second knuckle by the time Aragorn
reached me. With one strong arm around my waist he dragged me bodily
away from the tapestry. When we had reached what he must have thought
was a safe distance he released his grip on my waist and took hold of
my wrist. I splayed my fingers bending them then straightening them
to show him that everything was all right. Even so, he ran his own hand
over each digit to check for himself. “I’m sorry.”
I whispered cursing myself for a fool. I should have simply explained
what I had found.
“No, I apologize. You knew what you were doing. I overreacted.”
My lord replied releasing my wrist and patting my shoulder.
“Now we have found the door let us go in.” said
Gimli. As he strode boldly toward the tapestry I could well believe
the legend that claimed that once the Council of Elrond had decided
to destroy the ring the dwarf had attacked it then and there shattering
his axe. Gimli did not vanish. He banged his forehead so hard on the
wall behind the tapestry that he fell backward landing with an undignified
thump.
Gimli surveyed all of us. His expression seemed to dare any
of us to find something amusing. Aragorn and Gandalf were wearing neutral
faces, though I noticed the wizard was biting his lip hard. I was still
a little overwhelmed by the course of events and I honestly had not
noticed the humor.
“Not all are permitted admittance, it would seem.”
As the wizard made his comment he was overcome by a sudden coughing
fit. Aragorn’s eyelid was twitching a little with the strain on
his facial muscles.
After a moment of silence in which Gimli dusted himself off
and probed the lump forming on his brow Gandalf poked the tapestry with
his staff. There was no effect. Then Gandalf carefully touched the tapestry.
There was a blurring of the pattern where his finger touched but he
could not push through. “My guess is that only men may pass through.”
Mused the wizard still pushing ineffectually at the wall hanging.
“I thought an Istari was a type of man.” I said.
“Yes, but there is some room for negotiation.”
The wizard answered with a wink.
During our brief exchange Aragorn had stepped in to take
a turn at the gate. My lord’s hand disappeared up to the wrist.
I sucked in my breath. It was indeed a startling thing to witness.
Just then a shrill whistle pierced the air. There was a brief
moment of confusion before realization dawned. “Legolas.”
Aragorn said, even as he began hurrying toward camp.
“What is it?” Aragorn asked. He had been the
first to reach the elf, though I was not far behind.
The archer appeared to be gazing out at the bleak lifeless
terrain surrounding the Black Tower. “There are riders, at least
twenty. The insignia is black and gold with a boar standing beneath
a noon sun.” Legolas replied without bothering to shift his gaze.
The insignia belonged to the ruling house of Harad. Their presence might
explain our persistent trouble with the orcs. The Southrons were not
above employing mercenaries even mercenaries as tainted as orcs and
uruk-hai. I wondered how the usually suspicious and unadventurous Southrons
had come to involve themselves in dream summonses and quests to the
heart of Mordor.
Gandalf was looking much more nervous than the prospect of
twenty enemy riders should have made him. “Legolas, can you make
anything of the individual riders themselves?” The wizard asked
unhappily.
“Nay, I cannot. They are still too distant but they
are coming quickly.” The elf replied, eyes still riveted on the
horizon.
“It does not matter. I had hoped that you might tell
me it was not so but. . .” The wizard trailed off then shook his
head as if to clear it. “Berwith the Blue rides with them. I am
sorry, Aragorn. I had not known one of my order had taken an interest
in politics.” Here, then, was another mystery solved. Who better
to occlude Gandalf’s magical sense than a fellow wizard?
“You are the leader of your order, Gandalf, not a nursemaid
to every magic user in middle earth. You cannot be responsible for the
action of this other. One thing only, if Berwith was the cause of Faramir’s
headaches then there must be an accounting.” The king spoke the
last words with his face set in lines of grim determination. I blushed.
I did not want to be the cause of trouble. In any case, I had had headaches
all my life. True, they had been more frequent recently but surely that
could be simple coincidence.
Ever practical Gimli asked: “Should we fight or run?
I am no coward but I have no wish to be anywhere near if there is to
be a battle between wizards.” “Faramir and I must do what
we came to do and see what adventure lies beyond the arch.” Aragorn
answered for us.
“You found the way in, then?” The elf asked surprised.
Before anyone could answer, Legolas continued. “Then we should
all continue on. I- I am ready.” I had never seen an elf so frightened
but Legolas was battling down the fear to keep company with us. I wondered
why the prince was having such a strong reaction to the dark tower.
Did Sauron’s aura still lie too thick about the place for an elf
to endure? Could elves be so sensitive?
“You are true and stalwart, my dear Legolas but the
gateway is selective and only permitted entry to me and Faramir.”
Aragorn told the elf.
“If we hurry we can retreat to the nearest large rock
formation. They have not seen us yet and we can wait three days for
you to emerge from your adventure.” Gandalf suggested.
“That only delays our problem without solving it.”
The dwarf muttered but he was already gathering up his belongings and
casting speculative glances at the jagged collection of rocks jutting
up from the earth around the black tower.
“If we do not return tell Everstil all that has happened.”
Aragorn said to Gandalf as he bid farewell to our companions. This request
surprised me. It would have seemed much more natural if he had asked
that Lady Arwen or even Prince Imrahil be informed of our disappearance.
I had little time to dwell on this, however. Gandalf, Legolas and Gimli
had mounted. Gandalf held the reigns of our own horses as the group
moved off toward their hiding place. As soon as they were on their way
my lord led the way back into the dark tower. A moment later we were
standing before the tapestry. Aragorn gave me a reassuring smile which
I returned and side by side we walked through.
Not even a slight breeze signaled our passage through the
arch. We were before the tapestry then we were simply somewhere else.
Somewhere else turned out to be a large room with rounded walls. There
was light but I could not tell its source. There were no furnishings
at all. With no more warning than we had passing through the gate a
lady appeared at the far end of the room. The lady was beautiful with
something of the look of Galadriel about her but her hair was darker
and her skin paler.
“Welcome, candidates” Said the lady in a pleasant
but somehow cold voice.
My lord bowed with his usual courtesy, I followed his lead.
“I am Aragorn son of Arathorn and this is Faramir son of Denethor.
May I ask your name and what are we candidates for?”
“You know my name already, man.” The lady replied
mysteriously. “And you are candidates to lead middle earth in
the new age.”
“Forgive me, but I do not know you. Who are you and
why do you have the right to choose who will shape the future course
of history?” Aragorn questioned, keeping his tone neutral and
non-confrontational.
“If you cannot recognize me then it pleases me to withhold
my name from you until you do. As for why the choice falls to me: Have
you taken no notice of the world around you? The flows and eddies of
magic have already begun to distort around this world while I have awaited
the attendance of a candidate. If I had been forced to wait much longer
there would have been increasingly dire consequences.” The lady
said and now her voice was so cold it seemed to steal the heat from
the room.
“Perhaps, then, you have the power but I asked by what
right you presume to judge.” Aragorn spoke firmly but not belligerently.
“The power gives me the right, Aragorn, King of Men.
Come, we are wasting time. Will you decline my test on moral grounds?
Your self- righteousness will cost you your life, the life of your companion
and the prosperity of your beloved Gondor.” For the first time
there was a hint of emotion in the lady’s voice. She was enjoying
flaunting her power. I wondered who she could be, how much she knew
about us and where she had gained her information. Did she have another
mirror such as Galadriel’s? Was middle earth littered with her
spies or was she reading details of our identities from our own minds?
“Tell us of your test, lady. What do you want from
us?” Aragorn was still able to keep what he was feeling out of
his voice. By the set of his shoulders, however, I could tell that he
was appalled by the crass threats and his apparent helplessness for
there was something about the lady that reeked of power.
“I only want to learn if middle earth will be safe
under your guardianship, Aragorn. For that I must learn more about you
and about men generally. My test consists of three parts. First both
you and Faramir must each answer a question. I will know if you speak
falsely.” I don’t think the lady intended to be quite so
insulting but the implication that we would lie was hard for Aragorn
to overlook. I wondered if the lady had spoken ironically when she spoke
of ensuring security for middle earth. How could Sauron ever have been
regarded as a proper guardian? Had she made a mistake or had Sauron
been indeed a suitable guardian for her purpose?
“Ask your question, then.” My lord straightened
and held the lady’s eye.
“Are you the cause of Arwen Undómiel’s eventual
death?” The lady’s tone was again neutral. She gave no indication
that she either knew or cared how brazen and impertinent her question
was. She merely stood impassively returning Aragorn’s stare.
For several moments Aragorn was silent. I suddenly wished
that there was somewhere I could go so that if he chose to answer the
lady he would not have to do so in my presence. I had been nothing but
a nuisance this entire journey and now my lord might decide to reveal
something intensely personal. He wouldn’t want me hanging about
him like an albatross. Did the lady really care what he thought of the
queen’s chosen mortality or was she just interested in seeing
if he could overcome his pride and answer? The creature was a fool if
she thought she could make my lord into her plaything. I had complete
confidence that Aragorn could overcome any challenge set before him,
but I was angry. The lady was trying to hurt him to see how he would
react and my presence was probably making it easier for her to do that.
“Yes and no. A mortal life was her choice not mine.
Her uncle chose mortality for reasons that had nothing to do with love.
I think Arwen had many reasons to do what she did. Would she have done
the same thing had I never been born? Perhaps not but in truth I do
not know.” Aragorn’s voice was soft and sad. He sounded
as though he were confiding in a friend rather than responding to an
interrogation.
“But you suspect that you were the main cause and you
blame yourself, do you not?” The lady asked almost mocking his
feelings of guilt.
“Yes, I suspected that I was the main cause. It is
a great sorrow to me for I love her dearly and because she loves me
in return she will die. I would have been happy beyond my deserving
if only she had agreed to stay with me for my lifetime, but I could
not convince her to change her mind or even postpone her decision.”
Aragorn continued to ignore the lady’s tone and concentrated only
on the question.
“That sounds very noble indeed, but you would not have
loved her as much were she still an immortal, would you? Did you imagine
that you had concealed that truth from the Evenstar?” The lady’s
scorn was beyond my ability to endure. No one should speak thus to him,
no one! I wanted to yell, to tell her to shut her filthy mouth, but
I could not speak. I could not push any sound past my lips. I struggled
against an invisible gag, but I was completely dumb. I could do nothing
to silence the harpy while she taunted my dear lord with what must have
been his heart’s deepest anguish
“How can one distinguish between different infinities?
Mortality forces us to live more authentically than an immortal could
ever live. For all her compassion Arwen never understood empathy while
she truly belonged to the protected woods of her father or her grandmother.
Yet, the sheltered elfish princess possessed a mystical otherness, an
other worldly majesty that the mortal queen lacks. Each choice contains
a gain and a loss, but I love her in all her forms.” Still Aragorn
spoke quietly and sincerely. There was pain in his eyes and voice but
he was not letting the pain master him.
“You go to elaborate lengths to excuse yourself from
what amounts to wife murder. Of what use is a ruler who will not accept
his responsibilities?” Anyone who knew Aragorn knew that the she-demon’s
allegations had now wandered into the farcical. No one took his responsibilities
more seriously than Aragorn and no one worked harder to fulfill them.
I knew my lord, though. He took too much responsibility. He drove himself
hard struggling to meet standards that would have been impossible for
anyone else to even imagine. Such was his vigilant care of everything
that came within his sphere of influence that he might be tempted to
believe the lady’s cruel words.
“I wish it could be my fault. If it were my responsibility
then Elrond could blame me and his anger at his daughter’s loss
could burn pure and clean. But it was not my choice so the one who was
as a father to me chokes on his rage for how can he vent his wrath on
Arwen the one he loves beyond words. If Arwen ever comes to regret her
decision she will not be able to find solace in indignation but were
I to blame then she might find some comfort in despising the one who
took advantage of her trust. If only it could be my responsibility then
I would not have to admit that I was powerless to affect the fate of
my beloved. But I dare not claim responsibility. If I did then I would
commit a terrible betrayal. If I come between Arwen and the responsibility
for her choice then I am saying Arwen is incapable of making choices.
I must respect that it was her choice and not mine.” Throughout
all the terrible questions Aragorn had persisted in keeping his gaze
locked with the lady’s. He continued to do so now but as I watched
him gaze forthrightly ahead I saw two tears wend a slow path down his
face.
‘Bitch, bitch, bitch!’ I screamed in my mind.
I had never contemplated committing violence against a woman before-
or anything that wore a woman’s form I thought with sudden insight.
Éowyn thought this a foolish weakness on my part but the women I had
known had been kind and gentle and most had been so badly used by men
or simply by life that the thought of hurting them seemed gratuitously
evil. This woman, though, I wished to kill- very slowly. I wanted to
make her pay for making my beloved lord shed tears. There was nothing
I could do to her that would be too harsh.
The moments stretched to minutes but the lady remained silent,
eyes locked on Aragorn. “Are you finished?” Aragorn asked,
finally. I do not know how he kept his voice so steady.
After a long pause the lady deigned to reply. “Yes,
you have answered my question and you believe what you said.”
Did that mean he had passed her first test or was she simply playing
games.
When she turned her cold eyes to me I felt a sudden change.
It was as though the light had somehow changed intensity like the sun
coming out from behind a cloud. I was now the center of her sinister
attention. “Will you answer my question, Faramir?”
“Yes.” I replied. My power of speech had apparently
been restored to me. I suspected that my question would center around
Éowyn and Leonin. I knew that such a relationship would be deeply shaming
to many husbands. It was not easy to explain but I was not ashamed.
I cared for Éowyn and she cared for me. I was certain of this and the
creature would not be able to shake my certainty. I was equally certain
that my lord would not despise me because Éowyn and Leonin loved each
other. Perhaps he knew already. Lady Arwen, after all, had seemed to
be aware of something. Aragorn cared for Éowyn too. He would not judge
me harshly because her happiness was important to me. And if my lord
did not condemn me then I could endure anyone else’s ridicule.
I was ready for the creature’s question.
The lady looked perfectly serene as she asked me cooly: “How
came you by the scars on your wrists, Faramir?”
I sagged as though I had been struck. I had to struggle to
regain my balance. That had been so long ago. Besides myself only two
others knew about that and both were dead. The little white lines, the
only evidence of the event, were almost invisible. How could she have
known?
“How came you by the scars on your wrists, Faramir?”
She repeated not changing her tone in the slightest. I had the irrational
feeling that if I did not answer she would continue to ask over and
over again in that same calm tone. For some reason that prospect seemed
terrible to me. I sneaked a quick look at Aragorn’s face. His
brow was furrowed and his lips were tight. Perhaps he had been silenced
as I had been earlier. I searched his features quickly for any sign
of disgust or revulsion I could not interpret his expression but I knew
I deserved his contempt. I knew and yet it broke my heart. The least
I could do was try to explain myself to him:
“The scars are there because I put them there,”
To my own ears I sounded utterly defeated. “On my sixteenth birthday.
I didn’t plan it, not really, not consciously but I knew it was
coming and I had prepared. I had made sure that I had returned all the
favors that I owed and I had made little gifts to the people I cared
about. I had declined to have any sort of large celebration for my birthday.
This suited my father well enough for he was a busy man.
I woke before dawn and looked out the window into the night
for a long time. Then I just sat down and cut. There was no pain just
the peculiar feeling of my flesh parting. Then the dark warm blood was
welling out of me flowing down my hands and dripping from my fingers
onto the floor. I was sorry that I had not thought to get something
to catch the blood. Some poor chamber maid was going to end up having
to clean up the mess I was making.
I would have bled to death but just as I was starting to
surrender consciousness the door opened and Boromir entered. I don’t
know why he came. Perhaps it was to wish me ‘happy birthday’,
perhaps he wanted to invite me on one of his frequent hunting trips.
He never said and I never asked. My brother did not understand what
he saw for several moments. He was familiar with violence, more familiar
than any twenty-one year old should have to be but a self-inflicted
injury was alien to him. I believe he actually looked around the room
expecting to find some hidden enemy. His inactivity did not last long,
however. He sprung to the bed tearing the sheet into long strips. In
moments my wrists were being tightly bandaged. He was whispering my
name, telling me to hold on and that he would take care of me.
When my wounds were bound Boromir wrapped me in a blanket
and picked me up. In his panic he was not thinking clearly or he would
probably have simply called a healer. Instead he carried me to our father’s
study. When father opened the door and found Boromir standing there
pale and frightened with me in his arms he guessed instantly what had
happened. I was put on the sofa and Boromir was sent to the kitchen
to fetch milk and honey. While my brother was gone father checked my
bandages and started me drinking some water that was already there.
Boromir was back so quickly he must have run flat out both ways. While
father got the milk into me he told Boromir to go to my room and clean
up the blood before anyone else came across it.
Throughout the day I drifted in and out of consciousness.
When I woke either father or Boromir was there to force some liquid
down my throat. By early evening I could stand and take a few steps.
I was going to recover. When father saw this he sent Boromir out of
the room for a few moments. Father had not spoken a word to me all day
but now he turned to study me. Then with deliberate calculation he raised
his hand and struck me hard across the face. It was the first and only
time he ever showed me any violence. ‘You have had your one chance,
Faramir, and you have bungled it. Now you will swear never again to
try this.’
I looked at him sadly. I did not think I could keep that
promise so I kept silent. ‘You have upset your brother terribly
and you have upset me. You have duties and responsibilities. I did not
raise my son to care only about himself. Swear!’ I swore. Then
Boromir was allowed to come back and he helped me return to my room.
He slept on the floor by my bed that night. We never spoke of it but
since that time Boromir kept a close eye on me. He used to tease me
in a sort of affectionate brotherly way but he stopped doing that completely.
I was rather sorry because I had never minded the jokes. He had always
been protective but from then on he was as ferocious as a bear protecting
his cub.” I almost managed to smile a little at the thought of
my fierce, strong, dear brother. He had always been so good to me. I
hope he knew how much I loved him.
I took a deep breath. Somehow I had gotten through the telling.
I wanted to look at my lord again but I was afraid so I kept my gaze
fixed on the lady. I tried to put some measure of defiance into my posture.
I did not care how this creature judged me.
“Why did you do it?” She asked her voice sounding
genuinely curious. If it was a game her clever maneuvering was lost
on me. It made no difference to me if she truly wanted to know or not.
“There was no good reason. Nothing was wrong, no one
was hurting me. By most standards I was lucky. I tried not to be ungrateful
but I did it because I did not want to face a lifetime of feeling the
way I felt. I didn’t think anyone deserved that, not even me.”
It was true. If I had been his dog instead of his son I believe Denethor
would have had mercy on me and allowed me to escape my misery. In the
end he tried to find an escape for both of us. I counted this as a sure
proof of his love.
“Is that what has happened? Are you living life constantly
facing the death feelings.”
“It gets better slowly. Since. . . since the ring war
ended it has gotten easier, everything has seemed lighter.” I
could have told her the precise moment when the heaviness had started
to lift and I had become open to occasional moments of joy, but I did
not. I knew I was commanded ‘to walk no more in the shadows’,
but it was often a struggle.
“Very well, you have answered my questions.
This night you will both dream. The dream will reveal something you
desire. I have the power to make dreams reality. If you wish I will
do so. That is the second test.” The lady did not simply disappear,
she remained in place until I blinked naturally and in the less than
a second that my eyes were closed she was gone. I did not know what
to do so I simply stood where I was and stared at the ground. I still
could not bring myself to look at Aragorn. I hated my own cowardice
and weakness. I could neither behave properly nor stoically accept the
consequences when I acted the fool.
Finally, in a quiet careful voice, he spoke. “Will
you show me, Faramir?” I held my wrists up to him holding them
close together like a prisoner expecting to be chained. I kept my eyes
riveted on the floor. He took my hands in his and studied them. After
a moment he began slowly tracing the scars with his fingers. A warm
tingle seemed to follow the path his fingers took. “I wish I could
have been there for you, dear heart.”
I was so surprised by his words that I automatically raised
my head to look into his face. He was looking at me with profound sympathy.
In his deep grey eyes I thought I saw understanding. “It wasn’t
that father didn’t love me, I believe he did.” I had no
idea where the words had come from. I rarely spoke of Denethor and I
never spoke of how it had been between us, but having started I continued.
“It was just that we were so alike and. . . and he never had much
affection for himself. I think he blamed himself for whatever it was
that was wrong with me.” When I finished I felt somehow better.
It was all an unutterable relief. He still caressed my scars and I felt
gentle heat flowing into my wrists then down to my hands and up my arms.
I was enveloped in the calm acceptance of his gaze. For a moment I was
at peace. But then the reality of who I was, who he was and what I was
doing crashed in upon me. I carefully extricated my hands from his grip
for I did not wish to feel the anguish when reality inevitably returned
to him and he would push me away. Something too quick for me to identify
flashed over his features as I freed myself. I took a pace backward
uncertain of what to do next.
Aragorn appeared to come to a decision as he watched me draw
away from him. “When our host asked about Arwen, it was very difficult.
She was very skillful. Somehow it was easy for her to find and prey
upon my fears and vulnerabilities. She was succeeding in opening deep
wounds. But then, I tried imagining that the interrogator was not there
at all, that it was simply the two of us talking together as friends
would. It became easy after that. I found I could bring myself to speak
of even the most painful things with you by me. I am glad you are here
with me, Faramir.”
He seemed to be waiting for me to say something, but what
could I say? Could I tell him that whenever he spoke of friendship between
us I was so filled with joy and fear that my heart shook? Could I tell
him that even the idea of him in pain made me sick with anger and terror?
Could I tell him that if only I was permitted to be near him then I
would ask for nothing more and consider myself the most fortunate of
men? No, I could not and these were the least of the things I could
not tell him.
When it was clear I had no response, Aragorn sighed deeply.
He turned away from me and raised a hand to his face as though to rub
away the fatigue that collected in the flesh between his eyes. “Well,
if we are to stay here three days, we may as well do what we can to
make ourselves comfortable.” This was said in a resigned, matter
of fact tone. Another crisis had passed. Though I had said far too much
I still kept my most precious secret. I hid this secret so deep within
myself that except in circumstances of great emotion I could conceal
it even from myself.
I looked around wondering how best to go about setting up
‘camp’ when I noticed a doorway. It had certainly not been
there before. I drew Aragorn’s attention to it and together we
cautiously made our way through the doorway and down a short corridor.
The corridor was at an angle to the rooms on either end of it so it
was impossible to get a clear view of what lay at the other of the passage.
We arrived stealthily and with hands on sword hilts at a large and pleasant
room. There were two beds at one end of the room neatly made up and
surrounded by semitransparent draperies. A table closer to the center
of the room was set with two bowls of mutton stew that were still steaming.
There was also fresh fruit, a large loaf of bread and a round of cheese.
In the far corner there was a screened area which upon closer inspection
appeared to be for washing and dressing.
“Very nice,’ Aragorn said dryly, though I could
tell he was quite impressed. There still didn’t seem to be any
particular source of light though it was as bright as a summer afternoon.
The place gave the impression of being open, even airy, though there
were no windows and it was almost certain that we would never leave
this place unless the lady permitted it. We could not possibly be in
the black tower any longer. There was simply no way such commodious
quarters could have escaped Gimli’s eye for spacial relationships..
I wondered where we were or even if the term ‘where’ still
made sense.
My lord seated himself before one of the bowls of stew. He
tore a piece of bread from the loaf, dipped it into the broth and carefully
brought it to his lips. The thought of poison flew through my mind and
I considered objecting but I discarded the idea. Poison was over subtle
for the lady. Besides we were her current playthings, she would keep
us safe and well cared for until we ceased to be interesting to her.
At the first bite my lord’s eyes lost focus and his
head began tipping backward. I rushed to his side but he had already
recovered. “Try this.” He commanded when I reached him.
Obediently I took the food he pressed into my hand and ate a morsel.
It was not that it was good, it was astonishingly so, but there was
something else. The smell and taste reminded me of home. I don’t
mean the house in Ithilien. I mean Home, that place that probably doesn’t
really exist but everybody secretly believes in where its safe and warm
and there is always someone to take care of you. I dropped into the
chair by the second bowl and ate ravenously.
It was impossible to judge time in this sunless place but
I imagined it was not more than half an hour later when Aragorn was
scraping the bottom if his bowl with his spoon and I was using the last
of the bread to collect any flakes of cheese that might have escaped
me. “Many more meals like that and I shall become as placid as
a hobbit.” Aragorn spoke in mild jest but I thought what a wonderful
life it would be if so much pleasure could be taken from simple things:
food, sleep, reading in a garden with the sun warming your back.
“If I dream of apple pie with cheddar cheese tonight
then I will accept the lady’s offer and damn the consequences.”
To my immense satisfaction Aragorn laughed as he rose from his chair
to stretch his long limbs.
“I could hardly blame you for such a choice, but perhaps
our host intends for us to accept. It is said among the elves of Lórien
that ‘self-indulgence is not so tragic a flaw as self-denial.”
“I am not surprised that such things are said among
the Lórien elves.” I spoke with much more bitterness than I intended.
Aragorn who had returned to his seat and was leaning back contentedly
sat up straight and raised an inquiring eyebrow at me. I searched for
something to divert his curiosity. Happily the table had somehow been
cleared. The lady’s magical displays were becoming a bit tacky
in my opinion but I took advantage of the opportunity to change the
subject.
“Do you suppose there is any chance we will discover
the lady’s identity or her real motives and source of her power?”
I asked a bit coyly.
“In truth, I doubt it unless we ever chance to find
Lady Galadriel in a particularly communicative mood.” He replied.
“I wonder, though. Faramir, if you ruled a large empire and one
of the remoter provinces had just overthrown its local government what
would you do?”
I loved these games. We played them often. He would ask questions,
I would do my best to come up with answers that made sense and together
we would come up with a theory or strategy to address any problem. “First,
I would want to reestablish some sort of government as soon as possible.
Anarchy makes a place vulnerable to foreign invaders but more than that
I wouldn’t want the instability to spread.” It was difficult
to see the whole of Middle Earth as no more than a backwater on the
extreme edge of some vast empire, Sauron as no more than a petty bully
and local despot and it was difficult to see the lady as the representative
of a powerful and sophisticated civilization. Yet, it all followed a
very compelling sort of logic.
“My lord,” I began nervously a very troubling
idea slowly forming in my mind. “Do you think there is any possibility
that the this lady that she is. . . that she could be-”
“I don’t think it serves any purpose to speculate
about that.” Aragorn said before I could bring myself to fully
express my idea. “Only ask yourself: Is there any name our host
could assume that would change your opinion of what has happened here?”
I thought about the coldness of the lady’s eyes, the casual way
she probed our sorrows, the cavalier manner in which she proposed to
judge us.
“No, it does not matter what she calls herself.”
I finally answered. My conclusion frightened me for it had implications
I was not sure I wanted to face.
“Then let us leave that question for the time at least.”
Aragorn advised wisely. “Now, tell me, Faramir how selective would
you be about what sort of replacement government would you establish
if you were emperor. He questioned, unconsciously running his fingers
up and down Andúril’s engraved hilt.
“Not much.” I concluded, warming to my new role
as imperial overlord. “Except that I would want to make sure that
I did not let a true fanatic come to power.”
“You mean you would want someone who could compromise,
who would bow to political expediency.” He said with a twinkle
in his eye. He was thinking about how he had decided not to pursue the
question of the lady’s right to judge others when we first entered
this place. He was mocking himself.
“Zealots may make dangerous enemies but they are even
more dangerous friends.” I said severely. I saw nothing admirable
in those who went out of their way to kill or die for a principle. My
lord was wise, he knew that those who would not break must sometimes
bend. I wasn’t going to let him get away with implying that he
had made a cowardly decision.
“Very well, Master Faramir, I will concede the point.”
My lord laughed, raising his hands in surrender. “Would you require
any other basic qualification?”
“Yes, the leader of the new government would have to
be reasonably competent. I would have to repeat the whole bother about
finding an appropriate candidate if whoever I appoint gets himself killed
or overthrown.”
“Just competent, why not seek out a genius?”
I thought for a moment. “Two reasons. First, finding
a genius takes more time than I am probably willing to devote to the
problem. Second, as a great emperor I am arrogant and a genius might
threaten my inflated image of myself.”
Together we wiled away the afternoon deep in conversation.
We discussed how important a candidate’s character or personal
flaws might turn out to be. We talked about how much support a candidate
would receive from the empire once he had been chosen. Occasionally,
we would wander onto a tangent but we always found our way back. We
did not know if we were explaining our situation or if we were simply
debating political theory but whatever we were doing it kept us from
feeling quite so helpless.
It occurred to me that I really had been feeling much better
since this trip. I had had no more headaches. I admit the actual moments
I did something foolish were unpleasant but I usually was much more
at ease afterward. I knew my improvement had to do with spending so
much time with Aragorn but I was a little concerned: what would happen
if he tired of me? Exile from his presence would be so much more difficult
now that I knew how it was to be constantly by him.
Before dinner appeared, my lord asked if I would spar with
him. He felt he had been far too passive and wanted the exercise. I
agreed readily. I supposed I could do with some exercise myself. Naturally
enough I was soundly trounced. I simply could not bring myself to use
even the most basic attacks against my king even for the purposes of
practices. I was sorry not to be able to give him a challenge but it
was as if my arms refused any orders to raise a weapon against him.
While we sat sweating and breathing hard Aragorn said, “When
we return to Minas Tirith we shall have to play a few games of chess
and I shall make this day’s victory complete.” At chess
I could beat him two games in three. I smiled happily. In part, of course,
he had been joking but if Aragorn suggested we play chess he was quite
serious and he would not forget. He must not be bored with me quite
yet if he was willing to not only endure my company but also to endure
defeat on the game board.
Dinner arrived the same way lunch had and we attacked it
with the same vigor. When we had finished the meal, the light began
to grow dim. “Ah, sunset.” Aragorn said with mild derision.
The lady may have been clever but she was hardly subtle. We took the
hint and prepared for sleep. There had been hot water for washing and
big fluffy towels. I wondered if even the elves could boast of such
luxury. There was even soft loose fitting clothing laid out on the beds.
I think my lord was very reluctant to accept the new clothing. He disliked
the lady and he was wary of incurring any obligation to her by accepting
her generosity. I felt no such compunction. In fact, I rather hoped
the lady might get around to cleaning and mending our travel clothes
sometime in the night.
Though I was well-fed, clean and comfortable I did not wish
to sleep. In truth, I was afraid of what I might dream. If we had been
outside I might have taken a walk or looked at the stars but here in
this room no such delay tactics were available. Just then Aragorn emerged
from behind the screen. He had, it seemed, decided to take advantage
of the new clothing. The trousers fit his lean frame well. His dark
hair was still damp from washing. I tried not to look at his uncovered
torso but I really had no choice but to see the tight muscles of his
chest and abdomen as well as the sharp curves in his shoulders and arms.
Aragorn padded across the room on bare feet. I sat on one
of the beds idly twisting my fingers. When he reached me Aragorn gently
patted my shoulder and murmured ‘good night.’ He went on
to the other bed and flung away the gauzy curtain with an almost irritated
twitch of his hand. In a moment he was wrapped in the blankets, lying
on his back with his eyes closed. With a resigned sigh I slipped into
my own bed. I lay on my side with my face turned away from Aragorn.
I knew it wouldn’t do me any good to lie there staring at him
waiting to dream. I sighed again and began to fight a losing battle
with sleep.
My eyes flew open. The room was still dark. As quietly as
I could I turned so I was facing the direction in which Aragorn lay.
I could make out the outline of his figure. I even imagined I saw his
chest rise and fall as he breathed. I watched him intently for several
minutes. I wanted to make sure he was sleeping soundly. When I had satisfied
myself that he was indeed lost in slumber I silently rose from my bed.
I held my breath as I crept across the room to the corridor. When I
reached it I began to move more quickly. I arrived in the room where
we had first entered the lady’s prison. The lady was there waiting.
She stood in the center of the round room, a faint smile on her lips.
“Yes,” I said a little breathlessly. “Yes,
I want it to be real. Grant me my desire.”
“So be it.” Replied the lady. She was every inch
the gracious queen dispensing favors. Only the trace of smugness around
her eyes belied the regal image. I was dizzy with eagerness and expectation.
When the lady vanished I made my way back down the corridor, my heart
beating thunderously. The room where moments ago I had left my sleeping
lord was brighter than when I had departed. All was illuminated in the
uncanny light of a sunless dawn.
Aragorn was stirring. Still faintly disoriented he had flung
his legs over the side of the bed preparing to rise. When he saw me
standing at the entrance to the corridor his expression brightened.
“Good morning, Faramir. You have wakened early.”
I saw him there so wise and yet so trusting. The innocence
of sleep still hung close about him. He was so vulnerable and so beautiful
sitting there without sword or crown or even boots or a shirt. All at
once it was as if I had come out of a trance. I was overcome with a
sudden surge of terrible guilt. I had been mad, possessed. What had
I done, dealing with that creature? With a sob I ran to him and threw
myself at his feet.
He took hold of my arms and stood up bringing me with him.
“What is wrong, dear heart? What has happened?” He said
searching my face for answers.
“I went to the lady. I. . . I agreed. I told her to
fulfill my desire. I’m sorry, so sorry” I said brokenly,
wondering again how I could have done it.
“Oh, Faramir, angel mine, I’m not angry. How
could you possibly think I would be angry? It was your decision to make.
Gods know that if anyone deserves to have a wish granted it is you.
I am so glad you have finally accepted something for yourself.”
He spoke desperate to convince me. He was still supporting much of my
weight. If he had released his hold on my arms I would have fallen to
the ground.
“You don’t understand, my. . . my dear lord.”
So steadfast himself how could he comprehend the depth of my perfidy?
How could I explain how badly I had betrayed him. I was sick with shame
and guilt. “You don’t know what it was I asked for, what
I wanted. She gave me. . . She said she would make it possible for me
to. . . I coveted. . . Oh gods, why did I do it?”
“Faramir, Faramir! Listen to me!” He was shaking
my shoulders, gently at first, but with increasing force until he saw
that my panic was beginning to recede. “That doesn’t matter,
none of it. It’s not important, do you hear me? It’s not
important.” Then with the greatest care he leaned forward and
ever so lightly brushed his lips against mine. I stood as though I had
been turned to stone. Again he touched his lips to mine, exerting just
a little more pressure.
He was leaning forward to kiss me a third time when I broke
free from my daze. I threw my arms around him and locked my fingers
tightly. I had embraced him with so much unexpected force that he took
several steps backward before running into the wall next to the head
of the bed. I pushed my body against him, trying insistently to get
still closer to him, to put my body into as much contact with his as
possible. Now he did kiss me again, but this time he kissed me with
a passionate hunger. His tongue thrust into my mouth and I moaned a
heartfelt welcome. As we continued to kiss Aragorn’s hands gently
caressed my face, carded through my hair and stroked up and down my
back. My blood was singing through my veins. I wanted to touch him.
I wanted to see him with my hands but I wasn’t going to release
the grip I had around him. I wasn’t going to let him go.
“You are beautiful, Faramir.” Aragorn said as
he delivered a tender kiss to my temple. I shook my head ‘no’
and buried my face in his shoulder. “If only you could see what
I see.” He said hugging me tightly. After many more kisses I slowly
started to realize that Aragorn was not going to disappear. With great
caution I slowly began to release the hold I had on him. My fingers
ached from being so tightly fastened together for so long. Gently I
moved my hands letting my hurting fingers travel over the strong muscles
in Aragorn’s back. He responded to the clumsy motion of my hands
with a sound of satisfaction that started deep in his throat. I nuzzled
against his neck and he obligingly raised his head allowing me to cover
his throat with my lips and tongue.
I grew increasingly confident. Each time he kissed me I felt
infused with strength. He touched me as though I were somehow precious.
I was overwhelmed with joy. I was made bold with my desire for him and
with great audacity I brushed my fingers over his growing hardness.
I heard him take in a sharp breath at the contact. The sound echoed
in my own throat as my senses reeled with the nearness of him. With
sudden passion Aragorn pulled my head to him and kissed me fiercely.
I took this as encouragement. I rubbed my hand down the length of him
with greater firmness. Only a thin layer of cloth separated me from
the pulsing steel of his erection.
I looked up at him, needing to make sure that what I wanted
to do would be permitted. His grey eyes were clouded with desire. Was
it desire for me or was he simply experiencing an impersonal physical
need? Perhaps he was imagining Arwen in my place? I loved the lady Arwen,
truly I did, but I would have gladly surrendered my mortal’s soul
to any power good or evil for a mere fraction of what she had traded
her immortality for. Oh, if he would only love me, just a little, for
just a moment.
Part of me didn’t care what his motive was in accepting
me, I would try to be whatever he needed so long as I could be with
him. Though with my whole heart I desperately wanted to be special to
him. “Faramir, sweetheart, its all right. You don’t have
to do anything, its all right.” Aragorn’s voice was thick
with a need he was trying hard to subdue. He kissed my forehead in a
manner that was almost chaste as he struggled to slow his breathing.
He had misread the mix of fear and hope in my eyes as hesitation or
reluctance.
I almost smiled, I did indeed have to do something. If I
let this chance go by I would never forgive myself. I moved my hand
with renewed vigor. A groan escaped my lord’s lips as I stroked
up and down. I pressed my lips to the hollow of his throat and began
kissing a line downward as I slowly sank to my knees. With reverent
fingers I worked his shaft free of its confinement. For a moment I simply
stared, admiring him. I wasn’t sure what exactly I was supposed
to do. I had never really been in this situation before. What if I did
something wrong? With an effort I forced down my doubts and reached
out to touch him. I was faintly surprised by the heat of his rigid flesh.
The feel of him had triggered an almost painful response in my own groin.
With mounting excitement I kissed the tip of his shaft. Aragorn’s
hand had been smoothing my hair but at the touch of my lips he clutched
my shoulders just barely resisting the urge to pull me closer. Eagerly
I opened my mouth. I swirled my tongue around the head tasting him.
Aragorn made small sounds of encouragement and pleasure.
I continued to explore him. I was still learning how best to give him
pleasure for I wanted to prolong this as long as possible. Gradually,
I took more of him into me, all the while using my tongue to caress
the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft. I did not let my hands
lie idle, trying to gauge the proper amount of firmness I kneaded his
balls. I wanted to take all of him into me but I couldn’t manage
it. I used my other hand to stroke up near the root. Each move of my
hand, each lick of my tongue, each kiss of my lips was an act of worship.
Finally, I came to a sort of synchronized rhythm, my hands and mouth
working in concert. I could feel the pressure building within him. Aragorn
cried out sharply and my mouth was filled with his hot seed. I drank
deeply, tasting the results of his pleasure. When the tremors had finally
ceased to shake Aragorn I carefully tucked his softening flesh back
into the folds of his trousers and rested my head contentedly against
his stomach.
Aragorn took a moment longer to recover then reached down
to lift me to my feet. I tried to ignore the tightness of my own erection
as I basked in the satisfaction I saw in my lord’s eyes. “Thank
you,” I said letting my fingers run through his thick dark hair.
He laughed and then kissed me deeply. “It is I who
thank you, dearest Faramir, but perhaps I may find some way to earn
your gratitude before too long.” His voice was deep and rich with
amusement. As he spoke he moved his hand to close firmly around my aching
member. I gasped and Aragorn carefully maneuvered us around so that
I could brace myself against the wall. Still smiling he rubbed his thumbs
over my chest teasing my nipples into an intense sensitivity. Then he
continued the process with his tongue. In moments I was moaning and
twitching as my body tried to deal with all of the new sensations. Pleased
with what he was accomplishing Aragorn started to move lower. I made
a little noise of protest as he tried to come to his knees before me.
In great distress I pulled him to his feet.
“What is the matter, lovely one? Am I being too rough?”
He asked soothingly.
I shook my head ‘no’. My face was hot with the
embarrassment of what had almost happened. “You should not. .
. You should not kneel to me, not even in jest, not even for this.”
I said earnestly.
Mirth, again, rose up within him but he suppressed it lest
I think that he was laughing at me. “Well then, it will be for
you to say. Would it be acceptable for you to lie down on the bed, my
heart?” He asked.
I hesitated. Unbidden, a deeply buried fantasy had leapt
to my mind. After I had met my lord Aragorn I sometimes had. . . desires.
Desires I had no right to have. I thought about this fantasy in my darkest
most shame filled moments. My already swollen shaft pulsed painfully
with the forbidden thoughts. I tried to ignore the intense craving and
refocus my attention on the wonder at hand. I was on the threshold of
incredible bliss, nothing else should matter. With a great effort I
thrust the fantasy away. Aragorn, however, always seemed able to read
my mind when I had the most to hide. “Tell me what you want, Faramir.
What would give you the most pleasure?” he whispered seductively
in my ear, his warm breath stirring a few strands of hair at my temple.
I was tempted, desperately tempted, but I dared not risk it.
I swallowed hard. “My lord, I only want-“ Aragorn
cut me off with a wounded look in his eyes and a shake of his head.
“Even now you will not call me by my name.” Aragorn
spoke sadly. “Why do you mistrust me so? I have only ever wanted
your happiness.” He kept his arms comfortingly around me but he
was hurt. My insides twisted with grief at the look in his eyes. I trusted
him completely. It was I, myself who could not be trusted. I disappointed
everyone who had the misfortune to put faith in me. I was depraved and
sick in my inmost self. My face burned with shame and the knowledge
of my own corruption. I was bad.
Trembling I rose to my tiptoes. Though I had hurt him Aragorn
still held me close to him. With my lips a hair’s breadth from
his ear I whispered softly: “Punish me.”
I did not so much as breathe as I awaited his reaction. I
thought for a moment that he had not heard me for he did not shove me
away in disgust, instead he pressed me to him with crushing force. He
took my face in his hands and gazed into my eyes. I don’t know
what he saw in them but from him I saw compassion in the grey depths
mixed with hope and a newly born curiosity. There was something else
too; something I couldn’t quite name.
He studied my face for a long time. I gazed back at him too
worn-out to hide anymore. Finally, he kissed me, a long sweet kiss.
His hands moved down to my trousers and began undoing the laces. I caught
my breath as he touched my bare hips, working me free of the clothing.
In a moment the trousers were pooled around my ankles and at his urging
I stepped out of them. I stood before him completely naked. Aragorn
grasped my arm and sat down on the bed, pulling me with him so that
I ended up with my face against the bed sheets and my body across his
thighs. One arm circled my waist and adjusted me over his lap then held
me firmly in place. I let myself lie there submissive to his touch but
there was a knot in my stomach, a tension in my muscles and the blood
beat through my straining shaft like a drum.
He just held me there for a time letting the anticipation
build. Then, without warning, he brought his hand down hard against
my upturned buttocks. I moaned and my eyes rolled up into the back of
my head. The second blow followed the first in a rapturous explosion
of pain and pleasure. I quickly lost count of the number of stinging
smacks. Aragorn was strong and he did not hold back. Soon I was wantonly
thrusting my hips upward eager for the next assault. Between blows I
ground my shaft desperately against his legs.
Again and again Aragorn brought his hand down upon my now
reddened flesh. To my surprise and delight I felt Aragorn’s renewed
excitement press against my side. With an ecstatic moan I wriggled against
him trying to further stimulate him. Against my stomach I felt his thigh
muscles tighten but he did not pause in his work, delivering heavy handed
strokes one after the other. By now every inch of my backside had been
spanked many times. The pain was growing increasingly intense. My arms
were free and I clung desperately to the bed sheets. I might have been
crying. I don’t know why being bent over Aragorn’s knee
and thoroughly punished sent me into an ecstatic frenzy but it did.
A series of five powerful slaps landing in the exact same
spot knocked me over the edge and I came hard. With a shuddering cry
I spilled myself onto the bed sheets and against Aragorn’s leg.
Perhaps I lost consciousness for a moment. I was vaguely aware of slipping
off of Aragorn’s lap into a boneless heap on the floor. The next
thing that really registered was that Aragorn was now on the floor beside
me, holding me as I shook with reaction. He was whispering something
too quiet for me to really understand as he caressed my back and kissed
my hair.
I wasn’t used to such powerful emotions or experiences
and I was a long time recovering. When I had finally come back to myself
Aragorn and I rose from the floor. “Are you all right, Faramir?”
Aragorn asked a little shyly. For answer I threw my arms around his
neck and kissed his face. He kissed me back before disengaging. “Lie
down, dear one, I want to see if I can find anything to make you feel
better.” As he spoke he brushed my sore backside with his fingertips
to demonstrate what he meant. I hissed a little at the delightful and
hitherto forbidden sensation. Even though it hurt, it still felt so
good to have him touch me there.
“I want to go with you.” I said determinedly.
Though, the little screened off portion of the room was only a few feet
away Aragorn made no objection. I put my arm around his waist and together
we walked to the little shelf of perfumes, soaps and lotions that had
been provided. Aragorn sniffed at the different jars and bottles, occasionally
testing the consistency of whatever substance lay within. I spent the
time nipping at his earlobes and kissing his neck. I felt so completely
relaxed, so completely happy. For the time being at least, all my guilt
was gone.
When Aragorn found something he deemed appropriate we returned
to the bed. I lay face down and Aragorn quickly rid himself of his trousers
and lay beside me. Carefully he rubbed the cream into my sore flesh.
The lotion felt cool against my burning skin and I sighed blissfully.
When he had finished his healing ministrations he lay on his back and
I moved to partly cover him with my body.
“Faramir, I need to tell you how very important you
are too me.” He said as we lay together. I started to smile but
something odd was happening. With each word Aragorn’s voice grew
quieter until I could hardly hear him. “You are wonderful, sweetheart,
I. . .” His lips were still moving but I could no longer hear.
I sat up in a panic. I knew he was saying something terribly important
but he was making no sound. I tried to take a hold of his shoulders
but somehow he slipped from my fingers.
“My lord, don’t go.” I pleaded as I snatched
empty air that had moments ago been solid flesh. “Don’t
go! My lord, stay. Aragorn, Aragorn, please! Please, don’t leave
me. Aragorn, I love you! I love you, Aragorn! Please!” It was
no use, he was gone. He had simply faded away. One moment he had been
there and the next I sat alone making a low keening sound. Then, abruptly,
I was lying on my side in a bed. My eyes flew open. ‘It couldn’t
have been a dream. It couldn’t have been.’ The room was
still dark. ‘It was all so real.’ As quietly as I could
I turned so I was facing the direction in which Aragorn lay. ‘How
could I simply have dreamed it. It just wasn’t possible.’
I could make out the outline of his figure. ‘Why couldn’t
it have been real? Why?’ I even imagined I saw his chest rise
and fall as he breathed. ‘It wasn’t fair. It should have
been real. I needed it to be real.’ I watched him intently for
several minutes. I wanted to make sure he was sleeping soundly. ‘Perhaps
I could make it real.’ When I had satisfied myself that he was
indeed lost in slumber I silently rose from bed and looked with yearning
down the corridor to where the lady waited to make my dream come true.
I stood there a long time at war with myself. If I closed
my eyes I could still feel the touch of his hands and the warmth of
his breath as he spoke gentle endearments. Surely to have that would
be worth any price. Yet, yet it would not be of his own will that he
touched me. It would be the lady’s compulsion. I wanted his love
more than I desired his touch and the lady could not force him to love
me. Even if she could would that really be love? There was a name for
those who tried to take love that was not freely offered to them and
whatever else I was, I was not that. Then, too, there had been the ending
of my dream. I had been almost certain he was going to say he. . . he
cared about me and yet he vanished before speaking. Had his sudden disappearance
just at that moment been a warning or a promise of things that could
be mine if I accepted the lady’s offer? If only I could be sure.
With a final desperate glance at the corridor I turned away.
My dream had been very vivid and I had woken up in a sticky
mess. Ordinarily I would have felt an adolescent embarrassment at this
fact but now I was far too depressed to care. My lord still slept peacefully
so I made up the bed to conceal the evidence. Then I went to the bathing
area to clean myself off as best I could. My clothes from yesterday
had been cleaned and mended by the lady’s magic. I put them on
and then washed the clothing I had worn to bed. I had nearly finished
when I heard a heart wrenching groan from the larger part of the room.
I dropped what I was doing and ran at full speed to where
Aragorn lay. I found him sitting up in bed looking very pale. When he
saw me he gave me a weak smile. “Are you all right?” I questioned,
trying to sound calm. He nodded after a moment’s thought. “Bad
dream?” I asked trying to keep the despair and bitter irony out
of my voice.
He rubbed his hands over his face before answering. “Not
bad, no. But it ended a bit. . . abruptly.” He said giving me
another weak smile. He was still very pale and I wanted to hover making
sure he was all right. He probably wanted privacy, though, so I went
to clear my things from the washroom so he could bathe.
When he emerged I was sitting on my bed staring at nothing.
“There is food on the table if you are hungry, my lord.”
I said thinking it best that he eat something. He looked better than
he had upon waking but he was still pale and he seemed somehow subdued.
My impertinent curiosity asserted itself again. What had he dreamed?
What could a man such as he possibly desire? Perhaps he dreamed about
finding a way to give Lady Arwen her immortality back. Perhaps he dreamed
of a healthy son fit to rule after him. My thoughts drifted along these
lines for a while before it occurred to me that he might ask me what
I had dreamed. I could not lie to him but how could I tell him the truth?
These were my thoughts as I sat listlessly pushing my breakfast
around on my plate. I noticed Aragorn was not eating any more than I
was. I wanted him to have something but I was afraid that if I nagged
he would bring up my own lack of appetite. The food still had the aura
of Home but now it ceased to fill me. It only reminded me of my emptiness.
If I had to eat more I would be sick so I held my peace as Aragorn left
his meal virtually untouched.
When it became obvious that neither one of us was going to
eat another bite of the now mangled food on our plates Aragorn cleared
his throat. “Are you ready to see our host again, Faramir?”
I had hoped to postpone this moment as long as possible but
there was no way out of it. I nodded. “What would you like me
to tell her?” I asked. I dreaded what he would say next for he
could only really decide what answer to give her if he knew what she
had offered me and then I would have to tell him. Maybe I could keep
it general. Maybe I could get through this without naming names or acts.
I doubted it though. Aragorn would want to know who I lusted after so
that he could protect Éowyn and then it would all come out.
“Tell her whatever you have decided.” He answered
a bit puzzled. Then as he understood he continued: “Its completely
your decision, Faramir. I trust your judgment. I know you will make
the right choice but don’t forget to consider your own happiness,
dear one.” He paused then as though an idea had just occurred
to him. “Of course if you wanted to tell me a little about. .
. anything I would be happy to listen to-”
“No! Um, no, thank you, my lord. I have already made
up my mind. Thank you, though.” I really was a fool. I had nearly
tripped over my own tongue to reject his kindness. If it had been anything
else I would have told him but what were the chances he would ever be
kind to me again if he knew the truth.
“Very well then. If you have decided we may as well
tell her now.” He said stoically.
Once again we were granted audience with the lady. Her manner
and stance were exactly as they had been in my dream and I shivered
a little. It was not evil exactly that I sensed from her. She did not
wish us harm particularly. She did not care enough about us as people
to take any interest in our well-being or our suffering. We were tools.
We had no identity beyond our usefulness to her purpose. Whether that
purpose meant good or ill for us or for middle earth was simply not
something she needed to consider. It pained me to admit but sometimes
I felt something similar from Gandalf; not often and to a much lesser
extent but the wizard seemed to have few qualms about manipulating people
in the service of his plans.
“What say you, Aragorn? Will you claim what was offered
in the dream-vision?” She asked, sounding imperious.
“No.” “No?”
“No.” There was no triumph or defiance in my
lord’s voice, though the lady was obviously incredulous that he
would refuse. He simply sounded weary.
“Take care, Man. I have seen into your heart. If you
deny that you desire what I have shown you then I will know you lie.”
She spoke angrily as though pushed beyond her endurance by the stupidity
of a servant. My palm itched to slap her face.
“I do not deny that I desire what you have shown me,
but my wish granted by you would be worthless. Less than worthless because
if ever I am to have what I desire it will not be through conjuration
or magical trickery.” Aragorn still sounded subdued and unhappy.
He was not trying to insult the lady or provoke her. He was telling
her the simple truth though he seemed too tired to bother putting the
truth into his usual courteous phrases.
The lady’s eyes seemed to glow with rage for a moment
but then her frosty composure reasserted itself. Without another word
she turned from Aragorn towards me. “What of you, Faramir? The
fulfillment of your greatest desire lies withing your grasp. I know
how much you want it. Have you not suffered enough? Do you not deserve
happiness? Take what I offer and find joy.”
“No.” This answer cost me dearly but as I spoke
I realized I had done the right thing. I did not deserve the thing I
wished for. If I was ever to find happiness it must be in learning to
accept my limitations.
“Will you follow your master’s lead to your own
continued misery, little one?” The lady said sweetly, feigning
sympathy and compassion.
I nearly laughed. If the lady thought to change my mind by
implying I was being too subservient to Aragorn by refusing her then
she was a fool. I was more than willing to be guided by my lord in every
aspect of my life, though he rarely interfered and he had never commanded
me in a matter concerning personal choices. In this instance Aragorn
had specifically told me it was my decision. The lady read our hearts
and minds I doubted that she would be above listening to our conversations.
I was just about to tell the lady that I would always consider it an
honor and a privilege to follow my lord wherever he led when some intuition
made me turn to look at Aragorn.
His face was contorted in grief and guilt. He seemed desperate
to speak but he must have been gagged by the lady’s power. When
he realized I was looking at him his eyes became pleading. What was
wrong? What had upset him? Then I knew. I was not the lady’s target.
She did not care if I changed my mind. She wanted Aragorn to believe
I was denying myself something that would truly make me happy because
he had somehow bullied me. It was ludicrous for my lord to worry about
such a thing but it was his nature to assume responsibility for all
bad consequences whether they were his fault or no. The lady was more
devious then I had supposed her to be.
I had to choose my words very carefully. I had to let Aragorn
know that I wasn’t mindlessly telling the lady what I thought
he wanted me to say. Returning my gaze to the lady I told her boldly.
“The fulfillment of my desire is not yours to give nor is it mine
to accept. How could I be happy knowing that the only reason I possessed
my greatest desire was because it had been stolen for me? I am no thief
nor do I consort with thieves.” I tried to sound as though I was
standing firmly on principal, as though I had never been tempted. My
anger at the lady added strength to my voice and it relieved some small
part of the great aching in my chest.
When I had spoken I glanced quickly at Aragorn. He still
looked dispirited but my answer must have allayed the worst of his fears.
He tried to give me an encouraging smile but it never touched his eyes.
His melancholy was starting to distress me. What could he have dreamed
to depress him so?
The lady did not appear particularly impressed by my defiance.
She regarded us both with condescending equanimity. “If that is
your last word then we will proceed to your final test.” Aragorn
and I both affirmed that we stood by our refusals.
“I will now give you each a gift. You may decline the
gift but not before tomorrow morning. These gifts will provide great
advantages to you but of course the choice to accept or refuse is yours.”
‘Gifts’ I thought like Sauron’s ring, like Galadriel’s
mirror. My pulse quickened. Would a day and a night be enough to make
whatever token of power she offered irresistible?
“I have devoted a great deal of time to selecting the
appropriate gifts. I hope you are not ungrateful.” The lady said
drily.
Suddenly, she was holding something in her hands. It looked
to be a knife. In the other hand she held the sheath attached to a slim
belt. “Faramir, this is for you.” I was shocked to hear
my name called first. In all our earlier encounters Aragorn had been
addressed before me. This breach of protocol struck me as suspicious.
The lady placed the knife in its sheath and stepped towards
me. For an awful moment I thought she was going to fasten the belt around
me herself. I did not want her that close to me. I didn’t want
to be within smelling distance of that perfect, beautiful creature who
played with men’s futures as a child played with her toys. Fortunately,
she simply held the weapon, scabbard and belt out to me. I took them
from her as though I was taking a poisonous snake.
Even upon close inspection everything appeared normal. The
knife was well made and carried a very sharp edge but not supernaturally
so. There were no jewels, writings or designs. The belt and scabbard
were of soft leather. I had been close to the one ring when by chance
I had come across the hobbit Frodo. I had felt something sinister and
seductive from the ring but I felt nothing like that when I held the
knife.
“Put it on.” The lady commanded once I had examined
the knife. I hesitated. “Put it on.” The lady did not shout
or seem to change her voice in any way but the command seemed to bypass
my brain and work directly on my muscles. I was fastening the belt around
me by the time my mind caught up to my body. “The power is in
the sheath, Faramir, not the blade. The blade is purely decorative.”
Even as she spoke I began to feel a sense of warmth and safety flowing
into me. It was as though a great river or ocean of feelings was flooding
into me. Other feelings were contained in the flow: pride, affection,
tenderness, concern and still others that I did not stop to identify.
One great feeling, however, underlay, contained and surpassed all the
others. It was an emotion I had seen before but I still could not name.
I fled from these feelings. I clawed at the belt trying to
remove the thing from my waist but I could not so much as loosen it.
I feared I would drown. I took a deep breath trying to ward off panic.
Though, I knew the emotions did not originate in me they felt somehow
familiar. Then without warning or conscious effort on my part the tidal
wave of feelings ceased to rush through me in torrents. It was as though
they had been dammed up. I could still sense them but they no longer
threatened to overwhelm me. All the emotions were safely banked so that
I could think about them without having to feel them.
Cautiously I began to experiment. I could will myself closer
to the swirling ocean of feelings but to do that I had to start letting
myself get caught up in the emotions themselves as though I were wading
or swimming. Likewise I could move away from the feelings until they
diminished into vague perceptions, like the distant roar of the surf.
As I moved closer to the emotions the strange sense of familiarity increased.
There was something important that I was not seeing, something that
should have been obvious and instantaneously recognizable. As I continued
to study I noticed that the emotions were subtly changing. The general
mix remained the same but as I stared inward I saw that concern was
growing ever more urgent. It was beginning to border on anxiety. Affection
too was transforming itself into an acute desire to protect.
It was all fascinating but as I continued to observe the
increasing tide of anxiety was beginning to insinuate itself into my
own feelings. I was starting to get very worried. I pushed the new emotions
far away from me until I was only just aware of their existence. Then
I returned my focus outward onto the external world again. “What
does it do?” I asked the lady in wonder as I ran my hand over
the soft leather that had somehow given me access to all these strange
emotions. It was odd but as soon as I had asked the lady the question
I became dimly aware that the anxiety level in the now distant ocean
of feelings had dropped.
“Can you not guess, Faramir?” The lady asked
torn between amusement and disgust.
“No.” I answered truthfully. Was the sheath a
mirror of my own emotions? Was that why they appeared both familiar
and foreign? When I felt self-disgust did the pool reflect back to me
great affection? When I felt despair would I find hope splashing against
the borders of my mind? That was the best theory I could come up with
but what possible purpose might be served thus.
“You may now understand, even experience, how others
feel about you.” The lady explained tantalizingly. “Think
of it, Faramir. With my gift at your side no one will ever be able to
lie to you again. You will always have the advantage. If you wish to
deceive others you will know exactly which tactic will be most successful.
You will know if you are believed. No diplomat will be able to out maneuver
you; no general will be able to bluff you and no lover will ever be
able cheat you. Think of it.” After her first sentence I heard
her words without fully registering them.
“But whose emotions am I feeling now?” I asked
completely befuddled. “Where is the. . . the fondness coming from?”
It surely wasn’t coming from the lady. I was nearly certain she
disliked me. Besides, why would she give me something that would make
her own emotions accessible to me? It just didn’t make sense.
The lady’s lip curled in contempt. I did not need any
magic to be convinced that her opinion of my intelligence had just dropped
precipitously. But from the ocean of feeling I felt amusement grow and
surge. I caught my breath, recognition finally hitting me. Eyes wide
I turned towards Aragorn. He was smiling as he often did when I did
something silly that he was choosing to interpret as endearing. When
he caught my eye I was nearly swept away by the onslaught of affection
and. . . and that feeling I could not name.
Perhaps I had been slow witted but it simply exceeded the
bounds of my imagination. It seemed more plausible that I would be able
to know the lady’s feelings than Aragorn’s. I still couldn’t
quite believe that it was true. Did he really feel such wonderful things
for me? I was smiling now too. I must have looked positively simple-minded
but I could not stop beaming. I was caressing the scabbard at my hip
and drawing that ocean of feeling in around me, letting it wash over
me.
“With practice, Faramir, you will learn how to detect
subtle changes in feelings. You will be able to decipher complex and
ambivalent emotions. You will be able to have insight into what a person
feels about other matters if they relate to you.” The lady promised.
I nodded that I understood but my mind was focused on Aragorn.
I hardly noticed as the lady turned away from me. When she
addressed my lord, however, I felt Aragorn’s emotions contract
suddenly. The emotions hadn’t changed I realized as I unconsciously
clutched the lady’s gift. Perhaps it was only that his attention
had been diverted to the lady. I had to force myself to concentrate
on what was happening. I was useless enough without letting my wits
go wandering. With the greatest reluctance I loosened the grip I had
upon the scabbard, though I still kept my hand upon the soft leather.
Part of me wished that the lady would just shut up and go away. I wanted
Aragorn’s attention back on me.
“What I offer you, Aragorn, entails the greatest gift
of knowledge. Faramir has been given the knowledge of people’s
feelings so long as they concern him. I offer you their thoughts.”
The lady’s voice seemed to boom with power and foreshadowing.
Suddenly, I had no problem at all keeping my mind on what was going
on.
“No, I reject that power and that knowledge.”
Aragorn answered immediately and I thought his voice contained the same
power and potential as the lady’s.
“Tomorrow is the time for choosing, Aragorn. Today
you will listen. The power I offer you is great indeed and if you reject
it I will not let you profit by what you gain in the meantime. If you
tell me ‘no’ tomorrow then I shall take your memory of all
you have learned. From this moment until the moment you refuse me you
will remember nothing.” The lady announced, smiling.
“Why do you do this?” Aragorn asked. Anger, barley
suppressed, seeped into his voice.
“That question can have no meaning for you or your
kind. Perhaps my action is absolutely necessary to achieve a perfect
harmony where all sentient creatures will be free and happy. Perhaps
I delight in watching those who account themselves strong broken by
too much power and too much knowledge. Perhaps I just want to see what
you will do. Even should you live for a thousand thousand years, mortal
man, you will never ever know ‘why’. ‘Why’ is
a foolish question.”
Upon speaking her final word the lady raised her hand. A
white star glowed in her palm. As I watched the star grew bigger and
brighter until it filled my vision in a great burst of dazzling light.
For several moments I was blind. As my sight gradually returned I looked
around frantically for my lord. As the size of the star had grown I
felt his concern for me grow also but his attention was mostly elsewhere.
He was standing where he had been but now the lady’s pale star
shone from the center of his forehead. The mark could have been mistaken
for a scar and it did not detract from the beauty of his austere features
in the least. As I continued to stare I saw that the mark was no longer
purely white but more of light bluish gray like the sky before a thunderstorm.
It matched his eyes.
At the same moment Aragorn turned to me and I felt a great
sadness permeate all of his feelings for me. I shivered. I had always
believed in my secret heart of hearts that Argorn was omniscient that
he knew everything I thought about him and now it was so.
“I would not have you believe that I had cheated you
Aragorn. A day and a night is, after all, such a little time to experiment
with such a great power. So I shall tell you what you would have learned
of Faramir’s thoughts had you been possessed of my gift.”
Never had I heard such grim satisfaction from a feeling creature.
“No, nothing justifies this. Leave him alone.”
Aragorn’s anger was no longer suppressed. He did not usually give
way to rage but now there was lightning in his eyes.
The lady ignored him. He opened his mouth to speak again
but the lady was no longer permitting speech. I trembled as my mind
shrank from contemplating the horror to come. With every ounce of courage
I possessed I turned toward Aragorn and thought: ‘I’m sorry.’
Then the lady began to speak.
In the time I had known Aragorn I had had innumerable thoughts
about him. Most of these thoughts were perfectly proper. I loved him
as my king. I admired him as a leader. There had been times when we
had been together that I dared to think of as companionable even brotherly.
Though I tried to be polite to everyone there were few I counted as
true friends but I had counted Aragorn as one such despite the fact
that he was my lord. The lady did not speak of any of these thoughts
or the thoughts associated with them.
She told him that I had thought him beautiful ever since
the moment in the house of healing when I had opened my eyes and seen
not only my king but my destiny. She told him of the hours I had spent
wondering what it would be like to touch him and to be touched by him.
She told him how my thoughts ran like searching fingers over the times
I had seen him sparring with the guard: shirtless, soaked with sweat
and breathing hard. I wanted to cry out: ‘Stop, this is like rape.’
But I could hardly breathe let alone speak.
It grew worse. In dispassionate tones the lady told how I
had wondered- hoped that he might have kissed Éowyn, just once, so that
when I kissed her I might have something of him. The gods’ truth
I loved my wife. I loved her for herself but I could not deny what I
had thought. The lady told of how I had speculated that Aragorn might
tire of the lady Arwen if only for a day an hour or even a moment and
then seek love elsewhere. She revealed my curiosity about whether Aragorn
had ever lain with a man or even a male elf. If so I had wondered if
he had enjoyed it.
In excruciating detail the lady spoke of all the thoughts
I had struggled valiantly but vainly to smother. There was no strength
in my legs. I felt my body shutting down. I dared not reach towards
Aragorn’s emotions though I still sensed them at the edge of my
mind. Oddly I did not feel any real change from his feelings but he
was probably in shock even as I was and he was too frozen to change
his feelings.
I had prayed it was nearly over. I tried to remember that
nothing could truly last forever. All torment had to come to an end
sometime if only in death. Perhaps that was so but pain does last forever
for as long as it is happening and my suffering was not finished. The
lady told him. . the lady told Aragorn, my dear, beloved lord, about
my dream-fantasy. She spared me nothing. She spoke of every moan and
sigh that my imaginary Aragorn had moaned and sighed. She told him how
pleased I had been with myself when I had brought make-believe Aragorn
to his release and she told him how excited I had been when the dream
Aragorn had pulled me across his lap and beaten me like a naughty child.
I was swaying a little. If I had been allowed to speak I
might have been mumbling to myself. I was so estranged from my surroundings
that I didn’t realize it was finally finished until several moments
after the lady had fallen silent. I accidently caught a glimpse of Aragorn
as my head bobbed from side to side. I quickly cringed away from the
passionate fury I saw in him. He was currently staring at the lady but
I knew when he turned the full power of his angry gaze upon me I would
certainly die. It would be a better death than I deserved. I wondered
how the lady withstood it. Perhaps she could not for at that moment
she vanished. As she disappeared I felt myself released and I flopped
to the floor like a ragdoll that has fallen off its hook.
The stone was cool and comforting against my cheek. My
eyes were closed and darkness surrounded me. I had not lost consciousness
but I felt somehow distanced from what had just occurred. The razored
caress of the lady’s voice no longer seemed to cut my heart. The
stone supported my body as I lay motionless. I wanted nothing more than
to lie where I was in the stillness and the silence, letting the unyielding
stone carry my weight. I willed the stillness, the silence and the cold
stone into myself. I felt my heart slowing, my breathing quieting and
my flesh growing cold. Time passed.
There was now motion somewhere in the room. Soft sounds intruded
upon the soothing silence. Had Death finally come for me? Had my body
finally decided to grant my mind’s desperate prayer? Soon, let
it be soon, before I came back to myself, before my body rebelled against
my mind and struggled towards life and all its suffering. I wanted it
to end now surrounded by the dark, the silence and the cold stone. Let
it end while there were no humiliating tears, no futile attempts to
excuse the inexcusable, no last abject plea for an undeserved forgiveness.
Just a quick and clean ending of something that never should have begun.
I hoped it would be quick, anyway. I was not afraid to die. I never
had been but, oh gods, I was tired of hurting.
The sounds moved closer. I felt Death standing over me, scythe
raised. On my mind’s horizon I saw a glimmering ocean of feelings.
Like great tides the feelings reached for me. I pushed them back. I
would grant myself this one last mercy. I would not force myself to
experience my beloved’s rejection of me. I was ready. ‘Come
Death. You cheated me at our last appointment. Come, you, now and make
amends.’ Death swung his arm down. The scythe descended. ‘I
love you, Aragorn. I love you and I am sorry.’ The world exploded
in pain.
Death no longer stood over me but Aragorn. No weapon pierced
me but Aragorn’s hand, warm and gentle, touched the side of my
face sending the coldness fleeing back into the stone. Oh, it hurt.
“Faramir.” He called my name in no more than a whisper but
my heart leapt at the call and my lungs clamored for breath in hopes
of bringing the sound into me.
The calm disconnection of my Death vision was gone. I was
myself again; alive and aching. Terrible humiliation and despair flooded
through me coupled with a soul crushing sorrow. With a whimper I scuttled
away from Aragorn. I crouched against the room’s curving wall
raising my hands half in supplication and half in self-defense. I turned
my face to the wall and squeezed my eyes shut. Again, time passed.
Aragorn had not pursued me. My body could not maintain itself
at such a high level of tension for long and after a while I started
to calm down slightly. I let my eyes open into little slits. Aragorn
still knelt on the ground close to where I must have fallen. When I
saw that he was not looking directly at me I calmed further. While I
had been distracted by my flight the vast ocean of Aragorn’s feeling
had expanded. Though I tried to push them back to the periphery of my
mind the emotions seemed to percolate through any boundary I put up.
I was fighting a losing battle. With only a slight tremor I surrendered
to the clamorous strength of his emotions.
I was engulfed by urgent concern shot through with sympathy
and powerful regret but there was no hatred, no contempt and no disgust.
I had no explanation. I just did not have the resources to try and figure
out what was distorting my perceptions. No matter that it was false,
the tide of consoling emotions had a soothing effect upon me. As I continued
to watch Aragorn I finally realized that he was getting closer to me.
He was moving silently and slowly. Also, he was not coming directly
towards me but he was moving at angles giving the impression he was
not even aware that he was approaching. It was as if he was hunting
a particularly skittish rabbit. As I thought this I saw Aragorn wince
slightly. “I mean you no harm, Faramir.” He said in a quiet,
comforting tone.
“I know.” I answered in a small voice. All the
adrenaline from my first blind attempt to escape had been used up. I
was now slumped against the wall with my knees drawn up under my chin,
watching my lord from under hooded eyes.
Aragorn now approached more directly though he still moved
slowly so as not to alarm me. When he reached me I tried to pull myself
inward so that I took up as little space as possible. Aragorn sat down
next to me, letting me get used to his presence. He made no effort to
touch me and I was glad. I was too heart sore and defiled to endure
another human’s touch especially not the touch of the man sitting
next to me. I still felt the calming influence of compassion coming
from him, lapping gently at the shattered fragments of my mind. I would
have to think about that mystery sometime, sometime but not now, not
yet.
“I have done you a great wrong, dear-heart. If I had
been more forthright with you, perhaps I could have spared you much
suffering.” I heard Aragorn’s voice, deep and sad, but what
he said made no sense.
“My lord, I don’t understand.” I said desolately,
resting my forehead on my folded arms. I had truly grown stupid in the
last few days. I used to be so vain about my intelligence. I had truly
believed that I was almost clever and now even the simplest things seemed
beyond my capacity. I suppose that that is what is meant by ‘poetic
justice.’
“Faramir, surely it was clear to you that I have always
cared about you deeply?” He asked.
“You have always been kind to me, more than kind. Very
patient too, very patient I often marveled at how you tolerated me.”
I whispered. Remembering just how good he had been to me brought home
how contemptible I truly was.
Pain, like lightening, lanced through Aragorn’s emotions.
Rushing in to fill the rips made by the shooting pain was that strange
nameless emotion. The effect was like thunder and I shivered a little
as I never would have done in a genuine storm.
“Oh, sweetheart, I never imagined it was this bad.
You hide it so well. And. . . and perhaps I did not look as closely
as I should have done.” Aragorn, at first, sounded shocked and
then thoughtful. Even so, he kept his voice more or less calm and quiet.
I still could not understand his meaning except that perhaps he was
finally coming to realize how terrible I was. I buried my face deeper
in my arms.
“Faramir, it is very important that you listen to me.
It was never a matter of ‘patience’ or ‘tolerance’.
I have great affection for you. Each day was special if only you were
there to keep company with me. You have been a joy to me ever since
I first saw you battling the Witch-King while you lay wounded and unconscious.
Even though, it looked hopeless you fought on bravely unwilling to surrender
to the enemy. I admired you then but since I have grown to know you,
Faramir, I have grown to love you. Are you listening, dear one?”
Aragorn spoke steadily and clearly but the strength of his feelings
flooded my mind. I did not know whether it was his strength, my own
weakness or even if it was my own great wish but his affection for me
was sluicing through me in torrents with nothing to stop it. Hope, small
and faint, nudged at my awareness
“Yes.” I replied, my voice scarcely audible.
“You are so precious to me, Faramir, so astonishingly
lovely. You must believe that I love you. It is true that I did not
speak of it. That was a mistake, a mistake for which I shall never stop
castigating myself but every time I drew close to you, beloved, I felt
you retreat from me. I assumed you sensed something of my feelings and
wished nothing to do with them. I did not want to frighten you, Faramir,
or burden you with my love so I said nothing. I hoped that in time you
would come to trust me, to see that you never had anything to fear from
me.” Aragorn spoke earnestly almost pleadingly.
“Do you believe me, Faramir? Do you believe that I
love you?” The question was asked in a hushed whisper but it rang
through my mind.
“Yes,” that was the proper answer but “.
. . I don’t know. I want to believe it so badly but. . . I don’t
know.” I struggled hard to get the words past the tightness in
my chest. I loved him so much but how could he love me? I was such a
disappointment. I seemed to blight everything I touched. I grew weaker,
stupider and more useless as each second passed. But these things were
only symptoms of the greater truth: I was fundamentally unworthy of
love, any love but most especially Aragorn’s love. I should never-
“Stop, Faramir! No more, I beg you.” His cry
jarred me out of my thoughts. I raised my head from my arms to see what
could have alarmed him. He was pale and there was a horrified expression
on his face. I searched for an explanation and then I saw the star shining
dully on his forehead and I remembered what it meant. My face darkened
with shame and I lowered it again onto my arms.
“No, please look at me, sweetheart.” Reluctantly
I raised my eyes to him
“Faramir, you are not by nature cruel but what you
have just done was cruel. You must resist these thoughts. They are vile
lies. They are terribly harmful. If anyone else had said such things
about you, I may very well have done something I would have later regretted.
You are dear to me, Faramir, I will not have you slandered, not by anyone.”
He spoke forcefully and I did not doubt his abhorrence of my negative
thoughts at all.
My eyes had grown very wide as he spoke. “Do you really
love me?” I asked in a hushed whisper.
“Yes, I really do love you.” He answered, looking
straight into my eyes.
I could not stop myself. “Really?” “Yes,
really, really. I love you very much. You possess a keen and penetrating
intelligence. You are quite possibly the most perceptive, incisive person
-man, wizard or elf- I have ever known. In this one matter only, you
are blind for the world is full of those that delight in you, Faramir.
I wish I could show you how very much you mean to me.” I blushed
at his words but I was starting to believe he meant them. Trembling
a little I put my head on his shoulder. His arm was around my shoulders
in an instant.
“The lady, she spoke the truth. All those things she
said were true.” I was really shaking now but his arm held me
fast. “She didn’t speak all the truth, though. She left
out the most important thing. She never said that I love you. I love
you so much.” My throat was dry and I was sweating. I felt like
I was going to cry but no tears came.
“Oh, Faramir, I have waited so long to hear those words
from you, my angel. You make me happy, beloved.” His voice was
a caress. Now the tears did come but I did not bother to wipe them away.
He loved me; nothing else mattered.
We sat together for a long time. Once in a while I heard
the lady’s voice in my mind and I relived the terrible violation
but then Aragorn would hold me tighter whispering that I was safe and
the lady’s voice would grow faint. Finally, Aragorn bent his head
and pressed a soft kiss to my temple. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”
I gave him a weak but genuine smile. “I am much better
than I was.”
He nodded returning my smile. “I don’t know about
you but I am getting too old to sit in the dark on a cold, hard floor
when there is greater comfort available.” So saying he patted
my shoulder and rose gracefully to his feet. Once he was standing he
offered me his hand to help me up.
I smiled again ‘too old’, indeed. Now he was
just being silly. I took his hand preparing to lever myself to my feet
but I stopped. His fingers were long and slim. I felt the power in them
and I felt the rough callouses on his palm. My own hand was cold but
his was warm. Carefully for I feared to ruin the tranquility between
us by taking liberties I brought his hand to my lips and kissed it,
just once. Then I hauled myself to my feet. To my delight we continued
down the corridor hands clasped together.
When we reached the other room I saw that the table had been
set for lunch. To my surprise my stomach growled. “I did not expect
I would be hungry.” I murmured half to myself, half to my lord.
“It is a good sign, Faramir. An interest in food can
often mean an interest in life.” Aragorn replied.
I blushed thinking that food was not the only thing that
I was taking an interest in that could be construed as life-affirming.
I did not pursue the thought, however. I was not ready. I still felt
so fragile. “I don’t think I can bring myself to eat anything
provided by the lady, though.” I said looking with a combination
of longing and disgust at the mugs of frothy ale and plates of beef
and mashed potatoes drowning in thick gravy.
“I still have a little bread and dried meat in my pack.
Would that be better?” Aragorn offered moving to his pack.
“Yes, thank you.” I answered, clearing the table
of the lady’s meal.
We passed a canteen of tepid water back and forth between
us as we swallowed stale bread and chewed tough and stringy meat. It
tasted delicious to me. I wanted nothing more from the lady. I wanted
very much to escape from her cage, though I knew I had to endure it
for a while longer. Refusing to eat her food, however, felt like a step
towards independence.
“My lord, I have been thinking about what has been
happening.” I said quietly as we finished eating. Aragorn expression
reflected interest and attention, but from his emotions I felt concern
that I had been brooding. There was also relief that I was finally volunteering
information.
I continued trying to organize my thoughts. “The lady
could be trying to turn us against each other. With her questions and.
. . and the dreams she exposed vulnerabilities then she gave us each
power over the other. It could be she hopes that fear, shame and paranoia
will make us enemies so that we will battle and she can better judge
our strengths.” I was thinking out loud. I desperately needed
a way to make sense of what had been done to me. It followed a sort
of twisted logic that someone like the lady might think I would grow
to hate my beloved Aragorn since he had witnesses my humiliation and
he had constant access to many of my most secret desires and imaginings.
“I had not thought of that. It would indeed be a subtle
test of men’s ability to cooperate.” Aragorn said, considering.
“Sometimes our host appears remarkably insightful and other times
amazingly obtuse. I wonder if she even understood the nature of what
she was doing to you.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “I think most of the things
she does are aimed at you. She knows that you are the stronger of us.
I am only incidental.”
Aragorn leaned towards me, his voice taking on intensity.
“Do not mistake my meaning, Faramir and do not underestimate your
own strength. Few have been faced with the obstacles that you have been
and yet you endure. I said nothing to mitigate our host’s guilt.
She does not consider the harm she causes. She treated your feelings
with depraved indifference. She is as despicable as if she did what
she did for the sole purpose of causing pain.” He was angry now.
His hand which had been casually gripping his sword tightened into a
fist. He looked like an avenging angel.
“Please, my lord, don’t do anything to antagonize
her.” I begged, suddenly afraid for him. If the lady was who I
now believed her to be then I did not want her angry at my beloved lord.
“It isn’t worth it. No permanent harm was done.” I
licked my lips wondering if this last was entirely true. “Accept
the lady’s gift. You shall become the most powerful lord who has
ever lived and middle-earth will thrive under your control. Both Galadriel
and Sauron accepted the lady’s gifts and Galadriel, at least,
is considered wise and honorable.”
“Faramir, this ‘gift’ as you call it is
hateful to me. I feel as though I were constantly peaking in at windows.
If it were not that I could. . .” He paused and shook his head
to clear it before continuing. “The power is innately wrong. I
must not accept it. As far as antagonizing our host, I do not know what
I may do against her but she is not excused merely because she is powerful.”
The light of anger still glowed in his eye but he was calmer now.
I sat and worried. He had rejected the dream, would the lady
permit him to reject the gift also? The lady might kill him in a fit
of pique and I could not allow that to happen. I tried to think from
the lady’s perspective: What would she gain by having Aragorn
accept the power to read thoughts- or at least read thoughts that concerned
him. I thought about Sauron and Galadriel. I wondered if Galadriel had
dreamed of the magic mirror or if she had dreamed of the mind reading
power. Which was the gift and which the desire? The more I learned of
this test, the less well I liked Galadriel. And then I fell upon a new
idea.
“I think the lady wants you to accept her gift so that
she will always be able to control you.” I said rather excitedly.
Aragorn had also been lost in reverie but he focused back on me when
I spoke. When he heard me I saw an answering insight dawn in his eyes
but I was so intent upon explaining my idea that I rushed on. “All
Galadriel’s power depends upon her mirror and her ability to see
into hearts. Perhaps that was not always so, but now if you were to
take those things away from her she would be helpless. She has a window
on the world through her mirror so she never bothers to visit the real
world. She is safe in her wood but she is also trapped there. She can
look into people’s minds so she never bothers to get to know them
or to develop a trusting relationship with anyone. All the lady would
have to do is threaten to take away what had been given and Galadriel
would have no choice but to cooperate.”
“For Sauron the situation was similar. The dark lord
was immensely powerful but he grew to depend too much upon the ring.
When the ring was destroyed Sauron’s power simply faded away,
but we might not have been able to defeat Sauron in a fair fight. If
the ring had simply not been part of the equation it was anyone’s
guess how the war would have ended. Besides Sauron wasted a lot of resources
hunting the ring. Sauron would have been better served sending the Naz-gul
to strafe Gondor than to pursue hobbits.” I finished a little
breathless.
Aragorn was smiling at me and I sensed he felt a great pride
in me. “I believe you have discovered the key to this mystery.
When I said I hated this power to know thoughts, I spoke the truth.
There is one advantage, however, to the ability. Forgive me, Faramir,
but your mind has been brutally assaulted. If I can ‘see’
the wounds it is easier to try to do what healing I may.” As Aragorn
spoke I realized that it was true. I had been hurt, the cruel questioning,
the unattainable promise of the dream-vision and the brutal revelation
of my secrets was all so that Aragorn would be tricked into accepting
an insidious power that he could nonetheless use to help me. Once we
left this place the lady hoped that Aragorn would- despite his reluctance-
eventually grow to depend on the power until he could not do without
it then the lady could use him when and if she needed to. It was fiendish.
I felt a sense of triumph at penetrating the lady’s
designs but I was also horrified at the cynical calculation that must
have gone into the planning. I was not a child I knew that sometimes
people had to be hurt to achieve political goals but that didn’t
make it right. Sometimes it was necessary but it was not right. The
lady did not seem to feel that questions of right and wrong applied
to her and that terrified me.
As the day wore on I found myself staring at Aragorn
with increasing regularity. I had fallen into a contemplative silence
after our discussion concerning the lady. To occupy himself Aragorn
had retrieved a pouch from his pack full of seed pods. He used his dagger
to pry open the pods and then he used the hilt to crush the green seeds
on the inside to powder. The powder was then put carefully into another
pouch. When I asked he told me that if you collected the seed pods,
waited a few days for them to dry then crushed only the green seeds
discarding the brown and yellow you could make a remedy to cure most
any stomach ailment. I asked if I could help and together we worked
on extracting and pulverizing the little seeds.
While we worked Aragorn would occasionally ask a question
or compliment my work. Once he looked up and without preamble said simply.
“I still love you, Faramir, you mustn’t forget that.”
It took me a while to realize that his comments corresponded to the
times my own thoughts began drifting into the self-abusive. He was right,
those thoughts must have been harmful I felt so much better having gone
just a few hours without wallowing in self-hatred.
As I continued to feel better, however, other thoughts started
to become more frequent. I was profoundly mortified as my thoughts seemed
driven to contemplations of Aragorn’s grey eyes, the perfect curve
of his shoulders and his stern but somehow benevolent profile. My lord
had said he loved me and I was slowly beginning to accept that wonderful
fact but that didn’t necessarily mean he desired me, did it? He
was so beautiful sitting there. I really should try to exercise a little
more self-control. If I just leaned over and. . . and kissed him would
it be as wonderful as I imagined? Why couldn’t I stop thinking
about this? I loved him so much, I desired him so much. Why was I being
so ungrateful when I already had so much more than I deserved?
“Faramir,” the sound of my name brought me, blushing,
out of my thoughts. “Now that things are a bit calmer. I think
it is only fair that I tell you of my dream, that is, if you are interested.”
Aragorn offered as he collected all the powdered seeds from the table.
Of course I was interested but why was he volunteering such
personal information? Was it only to distract me from my inappropriate
thoughts? With my hand on my scabbard I tried to probe his motivation.
This was wrong of me, but I was so curious and I had to know if he truly
wished to share or if he was only offering out of kindness. I studied
his feelings and I sensed so much trust that I retreated from his emotions
ashamedly.
“I would like very much to know of your dream, my lord.”
I admitted.
“Very well, Faramir. This was what I dreamed: I was
walking through the palace garden on a bright and sunny day. I could
smell the perfume of the flowers and the sun was warm on my back. Soon
I came to the fountain and I found you reading in the shade.”
I was not sure but I thought I saw a hint of pink coloring Aragorn’s
sun darkened complection. Even so, he spoke without faltering. “You
were reading Bilbo’s story: ‘There and Back Again.’
When you saw me you smiled your lovely smile. I came to sit by you and
I asked what you thought of the book. You said that you found the shire
very charming and thought it must be a wonderful place for children
to grow up. Then you began telling me stories of your own childhood.
I had never heard you speak so unreservedly before and I was delighted
that you chose to open your heart to me. You spoke of happy times and
sad but the sadness did not consume you.”
“You asked me about my past and I told stories I had
nearly forgotten. Then I told you about the ring quest. You asked about
Boromir and I said that he spoke of you often. It was clear he loved
and admired you greatly. After that we were both quiet for a while appreciating
the day and content to be in each other’s company. The afternoon
was fading to evening and though I wished to stay I had duties awaiting
me. Reluctant as I was to leave you I asked if you would return with
me to the castle. You smiled and there was something close to mischief
in your eyes. You said that you would much prefer that we both stay
where we were. I thought a little while longer would do no harm so I
remained where I was.”
“As the sun sank behind the city walls you came suddenly
into my arms. You were kissing me and after only a moment’s pleased
confusion I was kissing you in return. You were laughing and I had never
seen you so joyous. The joy reverberated in my own heart and I was happy.
You did not run from my embrace. You let me hold you close though I
could not seem to clasp you tightly enough to me. I wanted very much
to tell you that I loved you. I was struggling to find my courage. Ah,
but it was so good simply to hold you so I delayed and luxuriated in
the feel of you. I wanted more of you, my dear, but I had to tell you
what you meant to me. As I began to speak I felt you begin to fade away
from me. I was desperate to hold you but you were gone and I was left
alone. That was what I dreamed, Faramir and hard it was to reject the
promise of its fulfilment.”
Aragorn was staring off into the middle distance, lost
in contemplation. I felt a great rushing sound in my ears. Without giving
myself time to think I leaned forward and kissed the side of his mouth.
In the next moment his arms were around me. In the same instant he came
to his feet pulling me with him. I heard his chair crash to the floor
behind him as he claimed my mouth in a fierce kiss. I kissed back with
all the stored up passion of a lifetime spent in quiet desperation.
My hands quested over him, pressing him to me with my fingers, palms,
wrists and forearms. I sucked at his lips and tongue, trying to draw
him further into me. When lack of breath finally forced our mouths apart
I groaned and still gulping for air I pressed quick kisses onto his
throat.
I heard Aragorn breathing rapidly and I felt his chest heaving
against my own. He was life and he was stronger than death. “I
love you, I love you.” I repeated over and over again. As I continued
to frantically kiss his neck and shoulders.
“Faramir,” My name on his lips was a blessing,
a holy thing. “Faramir, my darling I have wanted you for so long.”
I moaned and tears again streamed from my eyes. I had cried more in
the last few weeks then I had in my entire life, but I was not ashamed.
Some great wound within me had been lanced and the tears carried the
poison from my soul. Aragorn took my head between his hands and I looked
up at him with adoration in my eyes. He kissed my forehead, my temples,
my eyelids, the sides of my face and even my chin. He ran his tongue
over my parted lips. I was breathing in short gasps and my fingers dug
into his back. He did not quite kiss my lips though I strove against
his restraining hands to make fuller contact. He stayed close sharing
my breath and giving only the gentlest of kisses and caresses.
He drove me near to madness with his gentleness. When he
finally released me and wound his arms around my waist once more I attacked
him with redoubled ardor. I exhausted myself trying to meld my flesh
to my beloved Aragorn’s. I tugged at his shirt and tunic, suddenly,
the cloth barrier between us seemed unbearable. Obligingly Aragorn allowed
me to undress him. I tried to be careful but my fingers had grown clumsy
with urgency. When I had finally subdued his shirt and tunic I fell
to kissing his bare chest and rubbing my face into his shoulders. Soon
Aragorn’s fingers began working at my own clothing. I tried to
cooperate but it was awkward for I did not want to let him go long enough
to get my arms out of the sleeves. We both laughed a little as we wrestled
with the garments. After much struggle I was free and we stood gazing
at each other.
Aragorn caressed my cheek. “My Faramir, you are such
a beauty.” He said eyes clouded with desire. His words were so
close to what he had said in my dream that I was thrown into a panic.
This time I would not lose him. I clutched him tightly and my fingernails
rent the flesh of his back. I pressed so hard against him that when
I felt his heart beating against my breast I could imagine his heart
beat for both of us.
Aragon held me closely in return. “I am not going anywhere,
my lovely, not without you. Faramir, Faramir I want you with me forever.”
He soothed. The knife belt still hung around my waist sending me proofs
of his desire and. . . and love. Just a few days ago I was content to
live the rest of my life patiently waiting for a glimpse of my beloved
for a just a moment of his attention. Now I knew what is was to be held
in his arms and I could never again be content with less. My passion
had been given an opportunity to burn openly and the fire could not
be banked or contained. Greed, selfishness, lust, true love by whatever
name it could be called, nothing would ever part me from my lord.
“Will you let me show you how beautiful you are, loveling?”
He asked petting my tousled hair.
“Don’t let me go. Please, Aragorn, please I need
you to hold me.” I answered not sure what he had in mind but a
little frightened. I even called him ‘Aragorn’ in hopes
of pleasing him. It wasn’t that I thought I was hideous. I wasn’t.
There was just nothing particularly attractive about my appearance.
“Trust me, beloved. I won’t let you go.”
He promised. Slowly I nodded. I was still not certain what was to come
but I could deny him nothing.
Aragorn turned me around slowly so that my back pressed against
his front. Happily I rubbed my back against him relishing the warmth
of him and enjoying the tickle of the hairs on his chest against my
back. When I discovered the steel of his erection pressing against me
I writhed against him with a renewed sense of purpose. Aragorn had been
kissing my ear and the side of my neck when he hissed as I wriggled
against his hard shaft. “Stop that, sweetheart, or I shall lose
all control.” he warned, gently nipping my ear in remonstrance.
I grinned, curving my neck backward to demand a kiss. As
he kissed me I twisted against him once more inviting him to lose control.
I belonged to him and I wanted so very much for him to claim me. He
groaned, but he still had a plan and was not to be deterred. He put
one arm around my waist to hold me quiet. His other hand he placed over
my hand, his thumb covering my thumb, his index finger over my index
finger and so on. His hand was a little larger than mine so that he
could grip my hand even as he covered it. He brought my now captured
hand to his mouth and brushed his tongue across my palm. He licked tiny
circles onto my fingertips. I wanted to touch his face and caress his
lips and jaw but I was held back. Too soon he took my hand from his
mouth and placed it against my own chest.
“Faramir, You are beautiful. Your hair is as black
as a raven’s wing, yet your skin is as pale as the moon.”
As Aragorn spoke he moved my hand down my chest. My slick hand ran across
the taught skin of my belly and circled my navel. “Can you feel
how soft and yet how firm your skin is, Faramir?” My own thumb
under Aragorn’s firm direction was rubbing my nipple to hardness.
“But of all the many marvels your eyes are the most wondrous.
They contain fathomless understanding and infinite kindness. A man could
drown in the blue ocean of your gaze, my darling.” Aragorn kissed
me as he continued running my hand over my own body. I tried to visualize
the picture my lord was painting. I did not recognize myself and yet
the flesh under my hand was pleasing to touch.
Even as I started to enjoy the feel of my own body I kept
my other hand in constant contact with Aragorn. I reached behind me
to stroke his side and from time to time I caressed the arm that held
my waist. Aragorn continued speaking. He spoke of red lips full and
swollen with kissing and thick eyelashes and an almost pointed chin
that could be lifted in a display of regal defiance. I listened as I
pressed back into Aragorn and ran my hand up and down my throat then
over my face pulling at my lips and pushing back stray tendrils of silky
dark hair. Was that last description mine or his? I could not remember.
The honeyed words continued to flow into my ear. Aragorn
had ceased holding me still and had begun to caress me himself. I was
moaning softly with my head lolling back against Aragorn so he could
kiss my neck and shoulders. At some point he had released my hand and
I was no longer guided by him as I pinched my nipple crying out at the
painful pleasure.
“Now do you see why I must have you, dear-heart?”
Aragorn breathed into my ear as he took hold of my erect penis through
my trousers.
I could not answer him as jubilant sensations washed through
me. I maneuvered myself around to face him. Then I ground against him
moaning at the friction. Aragorn began working my trousers down my hips
and moving us towards the beds.
When we reached the nearest bed we collapsed onto it pulling
down the gauzy draperies with us. Aragorn made a low aggressive sound
in his throat and moved to quickly remove the rest of my clothing then
he started to do the same for himself. I was little help, though, for
as he pulled at his boots I coiled myself around him kissing his face
and wriggling against his lap.
After Aragorn had finally succeeded in fully undressing he
pushed me gently but firmly down onto the bed. His hands and mouth played
over my entire body. The only exception, however, was that he stayed
away from my right hip where the lady’s dagger sheath hung against
me. I would writhe in spasms of pleasure and when by chance the empty
scabbard touched him he shied away as if it stung before returning to
the thorough exploration and conquest of my quivering body.
My understanding of the lady’s gift was becoming ever
more subtle. Since the sheath was so closely associated with me I was
beginning to sense how he felt about the thing. He seemed to perceive
it as somehow threatening, dangerous and thoroughly unerotic. Truly,
I wished I could remove the alien thing so that I could relieve my lord’s
distress. And yet. . . and yet, it was so good to feel the endless flood
of love, affection and desire flow into me. It reassured me and eased
my fear. I loved him so much. I needed the lady’s gift to be certain,
to accept that it was indeed Aragorn’s hands upon me, that he
truly did care for me and that he would not be stolen from me in the
next moment by fate’s cruel whim.
I had no more time for thought as Aragorn grasped the length
of my throbbing penis. I made a strangled gurgling sound in my throat
as Aragorn squeezed gently and ran his thumb over the little slit at
the head.
“Don’t hold back, my darling. I want to hear
your pleasure. No restraint, Faramir, not now.” Aragorn’s
voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it seemed to have taken hold of
my heart as surely as he had taken hold of my yearning flesh. I nodded
vigorously, letting myself moan helplessly as he continued to fondle
me.
I had my arms around his neck but he began to use his other
hand to extricate himself. I whimpered forlornly as my groping hands
were gently batted away from my lord’s neck. “Wait, beloved.”
came the quiet command. I kept one hand against his shoulder which was
apparently still permitted and the other wandered almost of its own
accord to the lady’s knife belt. Aragorn moved slowly down my
body until I felt his chest against my thighs. Then I did cry out, as
loudly as he could have wished, for Aragorn’s mouth had replaced
his hand and he was now moving his tongue back and forth over the weeping
slit.
I wrapped my legs around Aragorn’s waist crossing my
ankles and trying to pull him closer to me. My fingers dug into his
back and with no control over myself whatsoever I thrust my hips wildly.
The ferocity of my need for him caught Aragorn off guard and it took
him a moment to recover from my unbridled fervor. I calmed under his
gentling and soon he was setting me a slow pace that I had no choice
but to follow. His tongue stroked up and down my rigid shaft while he
massaged my balls. Then he began taking me into his mouth a little at
a time. At the same time he continued to fondle my balls but he moved
his hand even further back until he came to the tight ring of muscle
at my opening. I whined for more even as I tilted myself upwards to
give him greater access. Now he was taking me all the way into him very
slowly. I feared I would lose consciousness if he did not move faster.
One finger continued to probe gently at my entrance. He never went more
than a few centimeters into me but he worked at stretching the muscles.
I wanted him to go deeper as badly as I wanted him to go faster. There
were so many new sensations and new feelings. It seemed like it would
all be beyond my ability to experience and yet I was experiencing it.
“Aragorn, please, my lord. Don’t stop please.
I need you so much, please.” I panted nearly incoherent. I felt
Aragorn tense ever so slightly at my supplications and the scabbard
at my hip told me that my words had the power to increase his own pleasure
in me. I cried his name again as he increased his pace. He grasped my
hips hard as he brought me closer to release, though, even now he was
wary of the knife belt. I was drowning in a rising tide of ecstacy,
I had to struggle for each breath until with a sudden crash the world
disappeared leaving only an indescribable rapture.
Aragorn had pulled me close to him and I lay still trembling
in his arms. As soon as I was able I put my arms around him. “Did
I truly exist before I met you? The world was grey before you touched
me.” I murmured into his chest. “Somehow I must have always
known you were there somewhere in some part of my mind or I could not
have endured. I recognized you the moment I saw you, the moment I heard
your voice. I’ve always known you: my lord and my love.”
He kissed me sweetly. I felt a warm tear slip down my cheek
and I was not surprised that I was again crying but as I reached toward
my eyes I realized that it was not I who wept. I rested in the perfect
safety of Aragorn’s embrace for several moments recovering my
strength. I felt Aragorn’s continued desire press against me and
the empty scabbard showed me ardent passion barely held back. The knowledge
of his unsated hunger spurred the renewal of my own excitement. Very
soon I was kissing him again, eager to bring him pleasure.
“Faramir, loveling, have you ever been with a man before?”
Aragorn asked putting a momentary hold on the kissing.
“No, my lord.” I answered with a bit of a grin.
There had never been another man nor would there be any other but him.
“Do you know what it is I want to do with you, sweetheart?”
I found that question very exciting. I hoped there were a great many
things he wished to do with me.
“Yes,” I replied but honesty forced me to add
“I thinks so.” Though the addition unfortunately made me
sound like a complete innocent. I knew things of this sort went on between
soldiers but somehow- perhaps because of my place as my father’s
son I had never had first hand experience. I had done, however, a great
deal of reading of ancient texts and historical documents. It was amazing
the sort of things you could learn from history. I knew of how men loved
men from the older generations. I did not know, I thought as my mind
skated manicly from idea to idea, how women loved women. History had
been oddly silent on that question. I had always wondered if Éowyn might
tell me but I had never been able to talk about such things candidly
with her. Perhaps with a little effort I could change that. Gods it
was so much easier to be confident, forthright and open when things
didn’t hurt all the time.
I felt Aragorn’s keen gaze piercing me and I struggled
to reign in my racing thoughts. I sensed reluctance warring with fierce
passion within Aragorn and my heart thudded madly. Why the reluctance?
Could it be that after all this he found me somehow unappealing?
He drew me close for a reassuring hug before he took a deep
breath to speak again. “Are you willing to let me make love to
you, Faramir. I am sorry, dear, but there will be some pain. If you
are willing to try we can stop whenever you like.” It was his
nature to ask he had no choice really. But he could have used me to
test the sharpness of his sword and I would have had no complaint. Surely
he knew that.
“Yes, make love to me. If there is pain it will be
a healing pain.” I told him leaning forward to kiss his mouth
and run worshipful fingers over the steel of his erection. He kissed
me back and pushed harder into my hand.
After several savage kisses he moved away from me, a little
breathless. “We need something to make this easier, my dear.”
He said, attempting to rise.
I grabbed hold of him suddenly apprehensive: “Nothing
of the lady’s. Please, my lord. Please, Aragorn.” I begged.
Aragon nodded his understanding and with great reluctance I let him
go to his pack. It was a thrill just watching him cross the room. While
he rummaged I fetched my discarded shirt and tied it around the scabbard.
There was no effect upon my abilities to sense his emotions, of course,
but I hoped it would make Aragorn more comfortable.
Aragorn finally returned to me carrying a small jar which
I had seen him use to cover minor scrapes and scratches earlier in our
journey. When he saw that I had covered the scabbard he grinned and
kissed me. I watched him open the jar and rub some of salve onto his
fingers. I reached for the jar myself and he gave it to me. I sniffed
at it but there was no odor that I could detect. Then I dipped my fingers
in to feel the greasy substance. I took a mid-sized dollop and rubbed
it into my hands. When I was done I took Aragorn’s penis into
my hands, carefully massaging the cream into his flesh. Soon Aragorn
was moaning softly into my ear and I was starting to rub with greater
enthusiasm.
With a stifled cry Aragorn removed my hands from his straining
shaft. Unable to resist I brought my hands to my mouth and licked at
the liquid that had dripped onto my fingers as I had stroked him. Aragorn
took the pillows and stacked them in the center of the bed. Then he
guided me over them so that I was lying on my stomach with my hips slightly
raised. I opened my legs without any urging. My heart and soul lay spread
before him as surely as my body.
I knew that the long delay was starting to cause him real
pain but even so he carefully inserted two fingers into me continuing
to stretch my muscles. Now that he had me better positioned he probed
more deeply. I had always been modest even bashful, but I was completely
shameless when it came to his touch. I was already jerking upward desperate
to further impale myself onto his fingers.
My lord was also impatient and he did not require further
proof of my readiness, though I would have gladly begged for him. Aragorn
shifted position to kneel between my legs. I bent my knees but I kept
my arms fully extended in front of me on the bed. Aragorn put his arms
around my waist and pulled me a little closer to him so that my chest
and forehead dragged a few inches along the bed. My stomach muscles
tightened. I was breathless with anticipation.
There was a moment when I felt him pressing against me then
he pushed gently and he was inside me. I nearly screamed. It felt like
I was being torn in half yet at the same time I felt like I was being
made whole. The pain was already starting to subside overwhelmed by
a growing sense of completion.
“Are you all right?” Aragorn demanded his voice
edged with fear and concern. Even as he spoke I felt him begin to withdraw
from me.
“Yes,” I answered quickly. “Don’t
stop.” I begged. I tried to rock backward onto him but it was
difficult to find my balance. His arm around my waist steadied me and
moving together he ventured further into me. Aragorn was careful. He
moved slowly, letting me adjust to him. As time went on I was finding
greater and greater pleasure in the way he moved within me and the way
he had such complete control over me as I lay defenseless and vulnerable
beneath him. I even took a perverse pleasure in the residual pain which
though it had dulled considerably still lingered.
Aragorn moved back and forth inside me. The third time he
buried himself deeply and he touched something. This time I did scream
but it was scream of unadulterated pleasure. When I cried out Aragorn
struck that tiny part of me again and I nearly went into convulsions.
He was thrusting into me with greater force now and I thrust myself
onto him with all the strength I could muster. Each time he found that
special place I would cry out and as if in answer from the lightening
storm of my lord’s emotions I saw gladness flash. Indeed as our
love making grew more intense it became harder to distinguish between
Aragorn’s feeling and my own.
As Aragorn continued plunging into me I began to whimper
with the nearly unbearable ache that had been pulsing in my groin for
a long time now. I squirmed a little trying to make contact with something,
anything at all, but there was nothing. In response to my movement Aragorn’s
arm around me tightened and he drove into me with even more power. This
evidence of his mastery only increased the throbbing in my painfully
hard penis.
I was not going to be forced to suffer much longer though.
After a few more savage thrusts Aragorn took me in hand and began pumping
in rhythm with the forceful motion of his hips. We were both very near
orgasm. My emotions were merging with my lord’s even as our bodies
merged. I was jerking my hips wildly, down into pleasure, up into ecstacy.
And then in a moment of sublime unity we came together. An identical
cry of savage triumph was ripped from two throats and I felt myself
collapsing still joined with my beloved Aragorn.
For minutes afterward my breath continued hard and ragged.
Aragorn had rolled off of me so that I would not be crushed under his
weight. He still held me, though, and I leaned happily against him.
“I love you, my Faramir. You are essential to my happiness,
loveling. I need you with me.” Aragorn whispered in my ear as
he tried to pull me still closer against him.
“I love you too. And there is no way for you to be
rid of me, my beloved lord.” I said nestling against him. “I
love you so much.” I repeated a little sleepily.
We cuddled together for a while kissing and touching until
sleep overtook Aragorn. It was as though a nearly transparent veil dropped
over his emotions at the moment he slipped out of consciousness. I had
been fighting sleepiness myself but I wanted to know what it was to
have my beloved Aragorn sleeping close beside me so I remained wakeful.
I put my arms carefully around him as I pretended that I was his protector
and his guardian that I had both the power and the right to keep him
safe from all that threatened him. I had already faced down several
large and impertinent dragons who had the audacity to offer my lord
insult when my subconscious played a nasty trick and confronted me with
the lady’s image. The fantasy was irretrievably shattered and
worry began gnawing at my mind.
I felt certain Aragorn was intent upon rejecting the lady’s
proffered gift and I was afraid. Would she permit him to live knowing
that she could not control him? Even if she did middle-earth was still
largely in chaos. People would suffer if he denied himself any advantage
in reestablishing reason and the rule of law. I knew he would argue
that there was a fundamental inconsistency about using a power which
robbed people of their dignity to establish any kind of just system
but the point was debatable. Then. . . then there was my own predicament.
If Arargorn could no longer read my thoughts how would he know just
how much I loved him. For I loved him beyond words and deeds. If he
came to know of my devotion he might not believe or understand how completely
I belonged to him. If Aragorn refused the lady she would at the very
least steal his memory of the last day and night. He would forget I
loved him and that he had loved me. How could I endure that?
Then there was my own desperate insecurity. Could I give
up my window into another’s mind. It was so hard to believe that
Aragorn could love me. Without the aid of the lady’s gift it might
be impossible. There was so much paralyzing uncertainty. It was not
only I who would benefit from whatever the scabbard revealed. I would
be better able to meet Éowyn’s needs if I could better understand
her feelings. I would know for certain when an argument concerned an
intellectual disagreement and when it was merely a personality conflict.
In short, there would be no more terrible agonizing doubt about what
another expected from me. I would never again hurt someone because of
some stupid misunderstanding or misinterpretation.
There were other considerations as well. Once we left this
place I would no longer be allowed to spend every moment with my beloved.
Beyond this place loomed the lady Arwen. I knew Éowyn would not begrudge
me whatever love Aragorn might come to offer me. She desired my happiness.
We loved one another greatly with a love that understood compromise
and could endure all the slings and arrows of life. But what of the
queen? Was she not of the fairytale world where everything resolved
itself into a neat formula which always rendered ‘and then the
prince and princess lived happily ever after?’ There was no room
for the hopelessly enthralled Steward in such an equation. True, the
queen had given me to understand that she did not disapprove of Éowyn
and Leonin, but that was not the same as being willing to share Aragorn.
Of course Aragorn himself had not appeared to worry about
lady Arwen. Surely he would never have done something he thought would
be a betrayal of her. Perhaps it was simply true that elves were different.
On the other hand, Aragorn could have honestly misunderstood his lady.
Love had driven the queen to extraordinary acts of self-sacrifice. Might
not the same love drive her to extraordinary acts of jealousy? The lady
Arwen would be a formidable rival. For Aragorn I would challenge the
gods themselves but what hope had I of prevailing against the Evenstar.
The worry and anxiety had worked themselves into my stomach
and I felt a little sick. In my fear I held Aragorn even tighter but
he too seemed to be in some disquiet. He could not remain still. Once
he seemed to strike out at some invisible opponent. His breathing was
somewhat labored and his skin glistened with sweat. I tried to calm
him, murmuring endearments and smoothing his hair. As I brushed his
hair from his sweat damp forehead I saw again the pale shadow of the
lady’s star. Gods! I was giving him nightmares. As the realization
hit me, it was Aragorn who moaned. Had I conjured into his mind some
night terror vision of Arwen and me locked in deadly combat? Or perhaps
I had forced into his subconscious some image of the peoples of middle
earth tearing themselves apart as he watched helplessly and the lady’s
laughter rang forth? I did not dare indulge in self reproach. By sheer
force of will I made myself concentrate on pleasant things. At first
I was completely stymied. The best I could come up with was a big platter
of cheese. I tried harder and an image of a summer day with the sun
glinting on the gleaming white tower of Minas Tirith sprang into my
head. It was starting to get a little easier now. I imagined I was reading
in my study with one of the household cats settled contentedly on a
proposed amendment to the statute regulating liquor sale. It took a
while but Aragorn was calm again. He even chuckled once. I sighed and
drew him to me so I could curl protectively around him. Still aggressively
thinking happy thoughts I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.
I woke to find Aragorn smiling across at me. He had been
idly twisting a lock of my hair around his finger. When he saw I was
awake he leaned forward to kiss me. I kissed him back. The room was
bright now and the table was laden with a big breakfast. From this I
surmised it was ‘morning’. I quickly turned away from the
piles of sausages and fried potatoes. I was famished and it was better
to avoid temptation.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” Aragorn greeted me
with another kiss. It was near miraculous to wake up beside him.
“Good morning.” I answered, seeking and receiving
yet another kiss. The kiss deepened. When we broke apart Aragorn sighed
happily and stretched out beside me. In the brighter light I noticed
an angry red mark upon my lord’s shoulder. “What’s
this?” I inquired lightly touching the laceration.
“You do not recognize your own handiwork, loveling?”
Aragorn countered, smiling.
“I did this?” I asked mortified.
“You most certainly did and more besides, my fierce,
ferocious, beautiful, delightful, wonderful Faramir.” He answered
still stretching lazily.
“Let me see.” I demanded still incredulous. Obligingly
Aragorn turned his back to me and I saw that it was true. I put my hand
to one of the many patterns of scratch marks and my fingers matched
exactly. “I am terribly sorry.” I said contritely.
“Don’t be, dear-heart. I’m certainly not.”
He said with a twinkle in his eye. Then he grew somber. “But in
all seriousness, Faramir, are you quite all right?”
I moved around a little bit trying to evaluate how my body
felt. “I think I feel fine.” I answered after a moment.
“A little sore maybe, but nothing at all to worry about.”
I said confidently. I kissed him again before I continued. “I
love you, you know. Let me do something about this.” I said gesturing
toward the red weals that I had inflicted in the heat of passion.
Aragorn nodded his acquiescence and I went to fetch a wet
towel. When I had the towel and I had finally found the little jar of
ointment from last night (it had rolled under the bed) I began cleaning
the wounds. It took a long time for I spent as much time kissing and
massaging as I did cleansing and applying salve. Finally, there was
no more to be done and I reluctantly put aside the towel and the now
empty jar.
Aragorn sat up and whether it was instinct or the lady’s
power he took me in his arms and held me while I cried. Time had run
out and there would be no reprieve. Soon he would have to let me go
and we would wash and dress then go forth to confront the lady and I
was afraid.
My father had always taught me never to delay a necessary
but unpleasant task. So it was that I did not tarry but prepared for
the day at my usual pace. When all was ready I stood at the entrance
to the corridor with a heavy heart. Aragorn came up beside me and turned
me toward him. “Faramir, I love you. I want you to remember that.
I need you to remember that. I love you.”
His gazed pinned me to the spot as he awaited an answer.
“If it is your wish then I needs must obey.” I replied,
trying but failing to smile. Aragorn leaned forward and kissed me once
passionately on the lips then he kissed me once chastely on the forehead
before taking my hand and starting down the corridor.
As always the lady awaited us. I had thought that I would
be able to see the cruelty in her face but I could not. She was unchanged,
cold and beautiful.
“What say you, king of men?” The lady asked,
staring unblinkingly at Aragorn.
“I want naught to do with this abomination. Take back
your ‘gift’, lady. I wish you all that it will avail you.”
Aragorn spoke in his most kingly voice and the lady trembled whether
in fear or rage I could not guess.
“Think, fool! Even in places where men live under what
in their ignorance they please to call government, that government is
as the mist that burns away in the heat of crisis, protecting none save
those who could protect themselves. Your people are barbarian savages.
When your petty warlords aren’t busy killing one another, they
occupy themselves competing to see who can most throughly brutalize
those under their command. Your life, health and safety and that of
those you love are ever at the mercy of nature and she is not merciful.
The only law is that the strong do what they can and the weak suffer
what they must. With a strong leader, some progress might be made. Reason
could be shown to those who understand it and strength shown to those
who understand that. With a common purpose man might just have a chance
and you would throw that chance away so that you may think of yourself
as incorruptible Apparently there is not enough blood and suffering
on man’s conscience to suit you. You would prefer to watch as
man flounders in his degradation, abandoned by all races who make even
a pretense at civilization, a pitiable creature whose capacity and ambition
do not stretch beyond the next meal.” The lady spit forth her
words as a snake spits forth its poison. Two bright spots of harsh color
burned in her pale cheeks.
Aragorn watched the lady coolly, a striking contrast to her
furious intensity. “What you have said has been said before. Perhaps
there is truth in it. Perhaps more could be said. It may be that I simply
lack the will to wield a power that will help my people. It may also
be that men are selfish and arrogant as well as weak and brutal but
that is only half. Nature may bring killing winters and famine but come
the next season people persevere. They return to build again. All the
storms and droughts, floods and plagues have not broken humanity’s
spirit. Though a man may fail, Man persists. It is a grave error to
question Mankind’s will.
If there is cruelty there is also compassion. People will
risk their short, fragile, precious lives in aid of one another. More
than that they will risk their lives for an idea if they believe that
idea is more important than themselves. Much else might be presented
to humanity’s credit but let one thing more suffice. Sometimes,
not often but once in a while, Mankind learns from his mistakes and
the mistakes of others. Humanity will make progress. It will be slow
and painstaking but it will happen. To trot along at the end of your
leash, madam, is no shortcut.”
The hair at the back of my neck was standing on end. I wanted
to think about what Aragorn had just said. It seemed as though there
were implications I was not quite fully aware of. Yet, I also feared
the lady’s reaction. I tried to casually edge my way between my
lord and the lady but as ever while in her presence I could neither
move nor speak without her leave.
“Enjoy the new dark age, manling. I hope you live long
enough to understand the full cost of your lack of insight.” As
the lady spoke she raised her hand. A great ball of energy seemed to
be torn from Aragorn and flow into her hand. When the blazing light
faded and I could see again I turned and screamed soundlessly. Aragorn
lay on the floor with a bloody gash in the middle of his forehead.
I strained against my invisible bonds until suddenly I was
free. I ran to my lord’s side. I knew he still lived for I was
yet attune to his emotions, even so, it was a great relief to feel the
warmth of his body and see the rise and fall of his chest. His eyelids
fluttered briefly as I drew his head onto my knee. His forehead looked
like someone had cut a rough circle from its center with a dull knife.
Blood still oozed from the wound.
“What is wrong with you?!” I yelled at the lady,
horrified at her display of vindictiveness.
The lady, however, ignored my outburst. “What of you,
little one? He still cares for you.” She had laced the word ‘he’
with venom but she then resumed in neutral tones. “But then you
know that, don’t you. Will you still know it if you leave here
without my gift? He need never find out you kept it. Put it in your
pack use it only when you truly need it.” She said no more perhaps
aware that my head was already spinning with the temptation.
Only my own soul was at hazzard. I was no true leader but
only a poor substitute. Thus, whatever I chose affected me alone. The
fate of a people did not rest upon my narrow shoulders. But I knew that
wasn’t the entire truth. If I believed the only way to keep Aragorn’s
love was to keep the lady’s gift I would move heaven and earth
to keep the gift. If I accepted her crutch I would never walk again,
better to teeter along on my own with the hope of slowly growing stronger.
I knew that intellectually but that was a far cry from the knowledge
I needed. Aragorn’s love for me shone like a jewel in my mind.
If only I could be sure that I had the substance when I gave up the
vision. I lingered long on the brink of decision.
“Take it.” I finally sobbed. Even as I spoke
the unbreakable loop around my waist disintegrated and the sheath clattered
to the floor. The jewel was gone. The light turned dark.
“You may go.” The lady’s voice broke me
away from the morbid contemplation of my loss.
“That’s it?” I asked disbelieving. The
casual dismissal seemed incredible given all that had gone on before.
I wanted an explanation even as part of me urgently begged me to take
Aragorn and get the hell out of there. Had the lady not already said
that ‘why’ was a foolish question?
“You keep us in mortal fear for three days, put us
through tortures that would disgust any honest ‘barbarian savage’
and all you have to say is ‘you may go.’” I was shouting.
I was angry. I was angry for my lord and. . . and I was angry for myself.
What she had done was wrong and somehow I had to tell her so even if
she didn’t understand.
“Those who find death here, find it at their own hand
or at the hands of their companions.” So the bitch had intended
to incite us to violence against one another. “As for torture,
you brought that on yourselves. If you had accepted my several offers
you would have spared yourselves. It was repulsive watching the two
of you dance circles around one another. Both of you pining desperately
for the other. Both of you having the means to possess the other and
neither of you having the nerve. When I tore the scales from your eyes
and confronted each of you with the truth of the other’s affection,
were you grateful? No! You whined about violation and voyeurism. It
was as though you had enjoyed your previous state of ignorance. By the
end you had both become so dull-witted and contrary that you would not
eat when you were hungry.” The lady was contemptuous and I felt
again the razored edge of her voice.
“What now?” I asked, caution slowly returning
to me.
“Haven’t you been listening? A shadow falls over
middle-earth. The cruelty of men will run unfettered. Chaos will reign
until the next age when I will come again to offer the beleaguered survivors
another opportunity to be guided into civilization. Pray that your lord
was correct and by that time you will have indeed learned from your
mistakes.” As the lady finished I saw the wall behind her shimmer
into the weirdly shifting shapes of the tapestry.
“You’re wrong.” I said almost in a daze.
Then I repeated more loudly: “You’re wrong. We will do just
fine without you. We don’t need you. You have made trial of us
and found us weak and perhaps stupid, but it works both ways. We have
also made trial of you and there may yet come a day when it will be
our judgment that counts.”
“Get you gone, child, before I become angry.”
For the first time the lady turned her back before she disappeared.
The path lay clear to the tapestry and escape. I hurriedly
pulled Aragorn’s arm around my neck and put my own arm around
his waist as I struggled to my feet. Aragorn was hovering on the border
between wakefulness and unconsciousness so he was able to support a
little of his own weight as I half dragged, half carried him to the
portal. The air did not so much as stir as we stumbled out, away from
the lady and her prison. . . but not into freedom.
“Where the hell did you come from?” I looked
around in a panic trying to take up a defensive stance in front of Aragorn.
I saw that the dark lord’s throne room now contained
at least five men. The speaker moved boldly into my line of sight. With
a sinking heart I saw emblazoned upon his breastplate a black boar standing
beneath a golden sun. The men from Harad had arrived.
“Eru’s balls! They made it before us!”
exclaimed a second voice. The man from Harad was shoved aside and I
was looking at Gandalf. No, not Gandalf, his brother wizard, probably.
Had all Istari been modeled on the same human figure? The resemblance
was eerie.
I still supported Aragorn but I also gripped the hilt of
my sword tightly wondering if I would have to draw before the others
were able to disarm me. Aragorn was leaning heavily against me but he
was standing, at least partly, under his own power. The wizard stalked
up to us glowering malevolently. The men from Harad shrank away from
the wizard’s menacing intensity.
“Greetings Berwith the Blue” Aragorn said, trying
very hard not to slur his words.
The wizard did not look pleased to have been identified.
He reached forward and placed two fingers onto Aragorn’s forehead
where the blood still welled. Even such a light touch was enough to
disrupt Aragorn’s balance and I had to use all my strength to
keep him from swaying too noticeably. Berwith brought his bloody fingers
to his lips and tasted. After a moment of consideration the wizard spat
on the stone floor. “Greetings Elessar descendant of the Numenor.
What found you in this place to give your blood such a deep flavor of
magic?” The wizard asked, his voice stripped of everything but
a polite slightly patronizing curiosity.
Aragorn did not answer and the wizard reached toward his
bleeding forehead once more with an almost hungry expression. This time,
however I abandoned the grip on my encumbered sword and struck the wizard’s
hand away. My arm was instantly seized and wrenched behind my back by
one of the men who had been creeping around us once Aragorn had been
named. I ignored the pain shooting up my arm and met Berwith’s
angry glare with a steady gaze.
Having found an opportunity to intervene the man I had seen
upon first emerging from the lady’s world, most likely a captain,
signaled for his men to disarm us. I was in no position to protest as
our swords were taken. When two men began pulling Aragorn away from
me, however, I started to struggle. I crushed the instep of the man
behind me holding my arm. He yelled and released me. I punched another
of the soldiers who had taken hold of my lord’s arm in the face.
I was reaching for the man’s sword when I was grabbed from behind
and thrown hard into the wall. I lurched back towards Aragorn but now
swords had been drawn and were pointed at me. Undeterred I ignored the
swords; I was intent upon reaching Aragorn. Another man hit me with
the pommel of his sword, I staggered but continued forward. Then I was
struck again and then again but I went on.
“Faramir! Stop!” Aragorn’s voice halted
me in my tracks. My head was reeling and I found I had to slip to my
knees. When I dropped to my knees the blows stopped. Quickly my wrists
were tied behind my back and I was dragged upright. I looked around
and saw that Aragorn was being held fast by two men. His hands were
tied behind him and though he was obviously struggling hard not to lean
too much against either man his guards looked more than a little wary
of their captive.
Seeing that I had been subdued Berwith returned his attention
to Aragorn. “I think you have something that might be of great
interest to me. I would prefer that you cooperate with me, but I assure
you, your cooperation is not essential.” The wizard’s threat
was delivered in silky soft voice. I growled a warning deep in my throat.
The grip on my arms tightened in response.
“Your pardon, master wizard, but I think we should
apprize the prince of developments.” Interjected the captain.
“And interrupt his royal highness’s tea? What
do you suppose the fat- headed toad is likely to contribute?”
Berwith scoffed.
The captain fidgeted like a man who does not particularly
respect his master but is too much a soldier to be comfortable hearing
his superiors disparaged. “Sir, if this is indeed King Elessar
then any interro- then any questioning should really take place in the
presence-”
“Oh, all right! We’ll do it your way.”
The wizard sounded like a man giving into a child’s unreasonable
demand just to stop the whining. Turning with an exasperated shrug Berwith
the Blue flounced out of the room. Aragorn and his two guards followed
next, I was marched along in their wake then the captain brought up
the rear of our strange procession.
The walk was clearing my head of the fog and dizziness brought
on by the brief fight. I felt in full possession of my faculties as
I was pushed into the bright sunlight beyond the great gate of the dark
tower. To my profound agitation my lord was not fairing as well. I was
certain he had a concussion and though he tried valiantly he was relying
more and more upon his guards for guidance and support. To their credit
the Haradrim were being as gentle as possible under the circumstances
for it was obvious that Aragorn was injured, perhaps badly.
After my eyes had adjusted to the blessed light of day I
saw that a large pavilion had been set up on the field before Barad
Dur. There were a few smaller tents as well as cook fires, picketed
horses and groups of men playing dice or resting in the meager shade.
Legolas had not been far off his estimate I counted twenty-four mounts
presumably for twenty-four soldiers. There also seemed to be an unnecessary
abundance of pack animals which explained the gaudy pavilion.
“Well have you discovered the great magic you promised
me yet, Wizard?” Called a man stepping from the pavilion. The
man spied Aragorn and myself and stopped short. “What have we
here?” He asked mildly curious. To my chagrin I recognized the
man: Prince Dalfor, heir apparent to the kingdom of Harad.
“No, you arrogant little fop! You let others arrive
before us! If you had not been so damn concerned with your precious
baggage, we would have arrived first and who knows what power could
now be in our hands.” The wizard harangued. Even while Berwith
railed, the captain had gone up to his lord and was whispering quietly
to the prince. As the captain spoke a feral grin slowly crept across
the prince’s face.
“Well done, master wizard! You have brought me a prize
beyond my expectation.” The prince exclaimed.
“Don’t be simple minded. You could have all your
enemies in your power now, if you had but moved a little faster. All
may not yet be lost, however for these two have been touched by magic.
We may gain from them what we should have gained for ourselves directly.”
The wizard was fuming at the prince’s smugness.
“Well perhaps I simply lack your ambition, my friend,
for I am quite pleased to have this single enemy in my power. Lig, fetch
a chair for our royal guest. He looks like he has had a rough time of
it.” A man rushed off to comply with the prince’s command.
Soon Aragorn was seated a short distance from the prince. Though Dalfor
reclined on a couch strewn with embroidered cushions and Aragorn sat
on a camp stool with his arms still bound, it was clear who was the
king.
The prince leaned toward Aragorn as though he were speaking
confidentially to a friend. “Elessar, I am so pleased to meet
you, Berwith thinks you must have found something here in this gods
forsaken place, something mystical and supremely powerful. Of course,
I only half believed his tale of magical talismans and so forth but
I came anyway. Frankly, I was beginning to regret the trip but the opportunity
to meet you has made all well. Naturally, if you have found anything
of note it might be best to speak of it now. If the rumors of powerful
magic have reached your ears with enough strength to draw you here,
there might well be some truth in them, no?”
“We have nothing to interest you, man of Harad.”
Aragorn said quietly.
“He’s lying. They both reek of it. His blood
is steeped in power.” Berwith hissed. The wizard was sitting cross
legged on the ground. He had emptied our packs out before him and was
going through everything meticulously.
Dalfor made ‘tut tut’ sounds at the wizard, then
leaned in to address Aragorn again. “That is a little disappointing.
I believe you of course, but I doubt the wizard has the breeding to
trust a gentleman’s word and as distasteful as it is to me personally
we are allies in this venture and so I must let him satisfy his small
minded suspicions.” Dalfor smiled apologetically. “Yet still,
it is awfully difficult to believe that the mighty Elessar would have
trekked all this way with only a single companion. . .” at the
allusion to myself, Dalfor fixed a curious eye on me, almost as if he
were seeing me for the first time. The guard captain, still hovering
by the prince, whispered to him once more.
“Faramir, Faramir. . .” The prince said meditatively.
Then he snapped his fingers. “The Steward’s second son,
right?”
I made the least bow possible consistent with the demands
of courtesy. “Lord Prince Dalfor.” I said meeting his eyes.
Those eyes widened briefly as I named him but his surprise
was fleeting. “Yes, of course we met once didn’t we?”
I nodded in the affirmative. We had met but he had paid little attention
to me, the shy bookish younger son of his father’s enemy.
Having settled the question of my identity he returned to
baiting Aragorn. “Yes, Elessar attended by the scholarly Faramir
traveling all this way chasing phantoms. It’s a bit embarrassing
for you, really.”
“Duty may often lead us down unpredictable roads.”
I answered, hoping to divert Dalfor’s attention from Aragorn.
The prince’s amateurish attempts to intimidate my lord were infuriating.
“And the paths of ambition are still less predictable,
are they not?” Smirked the prince. I gave the man a withering
look. Dalfor assumed that everyone else’s motives were as base
as his own.
I was considering my next remark for if the prince were in
the mood to taunt it would be better for him to taunt me. Though my
lord had given the enemy very little sign of weakness I was very afraid
for him. Occasionally he still seemed to sway just a little. The wound
on his head needed tending and I constantly worried about whatever the
lady had done to his memory. He betrayed no confusion to our enemies
but he must be disconcerted. Unfortunately, though he was wounded and
perhaps dazed Aragorn still saw it as his responsibility to deal with
our captors and shield me as much as possible.
“How fares your royal father?” Aragorn asked.
The question appeared to be a non sequitur but the prince blushed deeply.
The prince was too clever by half and Aragorn had caught him in his
own witticism for Dalfor’s expression made it clear that he was
on this expedition without his king’s permission. Had the prince
come here seeking power to use against his father or was he simply out
on a frolic, indulging a royal taste for adventure? Whatever the case
Dalfor did not like being reminded that not only was he not his own
master but that he would be punished if his exploit was discovered.
“Do you have what the wizard seeks?” The prince
asked angrily. All of evidence of the lazy banter in which he had previously
spoken was gone.
“I have told you: we have nothing for you.” Aragorn
replied with complete calm.
“I think I can change your answer.” The prince
smiled. “Guards, help our guest to his feet.” Aragorn was
seized by his upper arms and forced to stand. I struggled against my
own guards with increasing urgency. The prince also stood and moved
very close to Aragorn. Dalfor whispered in my lord’s ear. I could
not hear his words but I imagined. I imagined the prince promising to
claim compensation for all the feelings of helplessness and inadequacy
that plague the sons of powerful men and the leaders of second rate
powers. I imagined Dalfor swearing to redeem every petty insult and
slight he had ever endured in terrible acts of violence against a man
the entire world recognized as his better.
“What of me?” I asked putting as much challenge
and defiance into my voice as I could manage. “Or are you wise
enough, princeling, to know better than to try and break me? I would
like to know if Harad’s next ruler is as much the cowardly worm
as hr was when I met him last.” I taunted desperately.
“Faramir, be silent.” My lord’s voice was
as cold as ice without the slightest trace of affection or gentleness.
Under normal circumstances it would have broken my heart to hear him
speak thus to me but as it was I only shivered a little and silently
pleaded that Dalfor would come to me.
The prince turned with a look of startled bemusement on his
face. “Trying to curry favor at this late stage, little one? There
is no challenge in breaking you. Besides what fool would take a pedantic
little nothing like you into his confidence? Obey your lord and hold
your tongue in front of your superiors.” The prince answered mockingly
before dismissing me from his attention once more.
With great show the prince drew back and raised his fist
aiming at Aragorn’s face. Two more men were needed to restrain
me as I battled desperately to free myself. Aragorn did not flinch but
stood impassively. I started cursing and managed somehow to move a little
forward dragging the four Haradrim with me.
“If I might make a suggestion, my lord?” The
prince lowered his fist and turned to look at the captain. I instantly
fell silent still straining against my guards. The captain looked a
little uncomfortable for the prince’s expression was not indulgent
but the captain was not one to be silent when the voice of duty spoke
within him.
“Gondor is a rich country whereas Harad has seen hard
times. It may be that whoever rules in the White City would be willing
to pay much for the safe return of their wandering king. Would it not
be a fitting reward for Gondor’s arrogance to have to ransom Elessar.”
The captain spoke hurriedly as if afraid of losing the prince’s
attention if he could not explain quickly.
“Forget local politics!” Berwith interjected.
The wizard had thoroughly investigated the contents of our packs by
this time and was using his staff to lever himself to his feet. “There
is a secret here that if you will but find it will ensure that you will
never have to consider such a trivial thing as wealth ever again. Bleeding
orc guts, man! Do whatever you have to but make this creature reveal
what he knows.”
“My prince, if it were true that the lords Elessar
and Faramir had some great power how was it that they were so easily
taken? The wizard has spent too long in the fight against Sauron. The
world has changed. History is no longer a matter of objects of power
but rather it is all ‘local politics’. From what I have
heard of Eleassar he will have to be hurt very badly before he will
tell you anything. If we ransom him it will humiliate Gondor and enrich
Harad but if we torture him. Gondor will seek vengeance. His wife will
go to her father and grandmother demanding retribution. He is admired
as a hero of the ring war. Harad will be a pariah state with all hands
turned against us. And. . .” Here the captain paused and lowered
his voice. “and it is not so good a thing for captured royalty
to suffer pain and grievous injury. When a thing has been done once
it becomes easier to do it again. People will get ideas. It is better
to set no such precedent.”
“Do you think all magic must announce itself with a
boom and a flash? There is power here, I swear it. It might be subtle
but it is here. If you do not find it, you will not make it back to
Harad with your prize.” The wizard’s eyes flashed madly
and several of the Haradrim who had been standing near him retreated
a few steps.
The prince looked torn. He could follow the captain’s
logic but he could not dismiss Berwith’s promises and he wanted
very much to hurt Aragorn. “Can you not find whatever it is on
your own, wizard? Did you not say you could smell the magic? Once we
have it, once we are sure, we can send Elessar back to his white tower
in little pieces and we need fear no reprisals.”
“I can sense it but I cannot find its source. This
one,” the wizard pointed to Aragorn “has much of the old
blood in him and he has much that is elfish about him. His aura pulses
with magical energy I cannot identify. His possessions are saturated
with it. I cannot isolate the one magic I want from all the rest. This
other one,” here the wizard pointed at me “is also of the
old blood but more than that Elessar’s aura touches him and shields
him. Also the touch of my own magic lies heavy on him and confuses my
senses.”
“Do you admit responsibility for interfering with Faramir?”
Aragorn’s voice broke into the argument. He spoke quietly but
there was something terribly ominous in his tone. Despite the sun’s
heat the men holding me trembled slightly as though chilled.
“I could not delay the dream so I delayed the dreamer.
My intent was not to hurt him only to keep him from this place.”
Berwith closed his mouth with an audible click. Then he shook his head
slightly before snarling, “What difference does that make? I tell
you Dalfor, kill this one as soon as you learn all that might be learned
from him.”
“I will bring this matter before your own council,
Istari. Perhaps they shall be able to explain to you what difference
it makes.” Aragorn said sternly skewering the wizard with his
gaze.
Berwith seemed to shrink a little at Aragorn’s words
but Dalfor flew into a rage. “You make threats! Look at you, you
are my prisoner. I hold your life in my hands and you threaten my ally.
I am in control here, damn you. You are just an arrogant vagabond. I
will teach you about the nature of kingship!” The prince’s
voice had grown louder and more shrill as he spoke. After he uttered
the last syllable Dalfor swung his fist full force into my lord’s
unprotected face.
I moved so quickly that I broke free from my guards for just
a second. I had nearly closed the distance to the prince when I was
brought howling to the ground by my captors. Another few seconds and
I would have had my teeth in the bastard’s throat. As it was I
lay helpless beneath several Haradrim as Dalfor kicked Aragorn as he
lay stunned.
“My prince! My prince, please that is enough. He is
unconscious. This serves no purpose.” I could barely hear the
captain’s pleas over my threats and curses. Dalfor must have heard,
though, for he stopped his assault. Still breathing hard, Dalfor looked
down on Aragorn with hatred.
Struggling to regain control over himself the prince finally
turned to me. “Don’t be so squeamish.” He said with
contempt. “After all it could have been worse, Faramir, it could
have been you.” Seeing my expression of hatred and defiance the
prince laughed. “Get some water, wake him up. I’m not done
yet.”
As one of the onlookers rushed off to obey the prince the
captain once again spoke. “My prince, I strongly advise-”
“Shut up!” Dalfor said harshly. Then he took
in a deep breath and seeing his captain’s anxious expression he
relented a bit. “I won’t do any permanent damage. If we
do ransom him do you think he’ll announce to his council or explain
to his woman how the Prince of Harad made him scream? None will know
save us. Fear not.” Of course the captain had to know that no
secret could be kept when known by so many soldiers but he had no choice
but to accede to his prince’s will.
While the prince spoke Berwith had gone over to where Aragorn
lay sprawled on the ground. The wizard was going through my lord’s
clothing checking for any hidden pocket or concealed object. “Use
fire.” The wizard suggested absently as he tugged at Aragorn’s
collar. He examined then impatiently discarded the pendant Aragorn wore
as a love token from the Lady Arwen. “Saruman always used to say
that burning was one of the worst pains any creature could endure.”
I stifled a small moan of anguished panic as I listened to
the conversation. I couldn’t let this happen and yet I was helpless.
The guards had allowed me to rise as far as my knees and I struggled
feebly to move even a little nearer my dear lord but I was held firmly
back. Finally, the man who had run off earlier returned carrying a full
bucket. The water was thrown into Aragorn’s face and though I
begged him to remain safe in unconsciousness he returned to awareness
with a small groan.
I had enough time to see the prince smile with sadistic joy
before chaos was unleashed. I heard a man on the periphery of the onlookers
scream. Then there was the unmistakable sound of arrows flying through
the air. The captain had retrieved his shield and had shoved his prince
behind him while he shouted for his men to take up a defensive formation
around the pavilion. In the confusion my guards had slackened their
grip on me. I broke free and stumbled to Aragorn’s half conscious
form. My hands were still tightly secured behind me but I was able to
kneel astride my lord ready to use my body to shield him from whatever
threatened.
I thought I heard the rumble of thunder though the sun shone
brightly. Then I realized I was hearing the crash of approaching horses.
Someone must have released the picketed Haradrim mounts for I saw unsaddled
stallions galloping though the makeshift camp upsetting cook pots and
trampling tents amid shrieks of equine terror. A few more arrows flew
around me and each one struck an enemy soldier. I thought of Prince
Legolas but there had to be more than one archer at work here and from
whence came the approaching horses? The sound of metal crashing against
metal told me that men were engaged in combat nearby. I hunkered lower
over Aragorn and strained against my bonds but I succeeded only in abrading
my wrists.
Then, miracle of miracles, I heard cries of ‘Gondor’,
‘Elendil’ and ‘Elessar’. It made no sense. Was
this some magic of Gandalf? Was the magician that powerful? Whatever
the mystery, my lord was injured and I was unable to defend him against
the chaos of panicked men and horses careening about. “To me,
Gondor!” I shouted. “To me.”
A soldier approached, his sword was bloody and I prepared
to pounce if he showed the least inclination to attack but as he moved
closer I saw the outline of the white tree on his surcoat and rejoiced.
“Lord Faramir?” Came the careful inquiry.
“Yes,” I answered overcome with relief. “My
hands are bound, release me quickly.” The soldier hurried forward
shifting his sword to his left hand and drawing a dagger. In a moment
my hands were free.
“My lord?” The soldier suddenly sounded ill.
I twisted around and saw that the man had come to realize that I was
protecting someone lying still on the ground. From the soldier’s
horrified expression I was sure he knew or guessed who I was trying
to keep safe. “Is he. . . is he. . .?” The poor man could
not even formulate a proper question. Though I felt profound sympathy
with his terrible dread I forced myself to speak with calm authority.
“Stand guard.” I ordered succinctly, taking the
dagger from his unresisting hand. The man looked up from Aragorn’s
pale bruised face into my eyes. He swallowed hard and then nodded. I
bent quickly to my lord and cut the ropes that held him.
As soon as his hands were free Aragorn struggled to lift
himself into a sitting position. I was not sure if he should try to
rise. The sounds of battle were fading and a few more men of Gondor
had come and a loose circle with myself and Aragorn at the center had
begun to form. Perhaps it would be better for Aragorn to rest where
he was until everything was sorted out and a healer could be found.
Whatever my opinion, however, my lord was battling upward and I must
either help him or watch him struggle. With a sigh I lent all the aid
I could and Aragorn stood up leaning heavily upon my arm.
As soon as we were upright I tried to look around and get
my bearings. The battle had apparently ended. The Haradrim were being
disarmed and shepherded into the open away from the tents and fires.
I was about to ask the young soldier who I had first seen who was in
charge here but just as I opened my mouth I heard loud shouting. I turned
in the direction of the noise and there was Gandalf coming towards us.
My eyes widened in surprise as I saw that the man walking next to the
wizard was Lord Everstil.
As soon as Everstil caught sight of Aragorn he increased
his pace to a near run. “My lord, my lord!” He called finally
coming to an abrupt halt right in front of Aragorn. Alarm spread across
the man’s face as he took in the blood and dirt adorning the king.
“Your timing was most fortuitous, my lord.” Aragorn
commented drily as he swayed a little despite my best efforts.
Everstil swore and seized Aragorn’s other arm to steady
him. By this time we had drawn a crowd of soldiers. I looked out and
saw expressions of fear, shock and the first stirring of anger play
across the faces. Aragorn must have seen the same thing for he carefully
freed himself from Everstil’s support and smiled reassuringly
at those gathered around. “Gentlemen-” He began but whatever
words he planned to use to allay the grave concerns of his worried subjects
were lost as a new disturbance at the periphery of the crowd erupted.
“I could kill you all, but give me what I want and
you shall return safely to your homes. Don’t be fools.”
Berwith screamed as he swung his staff at the soldiers surrounding him
with their swords drawn. The men did not try to close with the wizard
but kept a wary distance, though they did not back off. “Do you
dare stand between me and my desires! I will show you pain you cannot
imagine.”
“What is your quarrel with these men, Berwith.”
The soft voice cut cleanly the through the mad ravings. Gandalf the
white stood with his staff raised facing his brother Istari. The madness
receded marginally from Berwith and he looked upon Gandalf with a nearly
lucid gaze. “Are you championing these mortals, my friend? Can
I leave such power as I sense here in the hands of these children?”
Berwith asked in the manner of one whose trust has been betrayed.
“Surely, these disputes are between the kingdoms of
men and are of no concern to us. You cannot challenge the armed might
of these soldiers. And you cannot challenge my magic. You have no business
here and I cannot answer for what will befall if you remain.”
Gandalf still spoke quietly, even sadly.
Berwith looked around expectantly at the men who still surrounded
him. The men in turn looked to their leaders. Everstil stood motionless,
he did not understand the full import of what was being said but he
sensed he had his enemy within his grasp. He was not interested in letting
him go. In the end, it was Aragorn who signaled the men to fall back.
Gratefully the soldiers withdrew leaving a path so the wizard could
leave if he chose.
Berwith drew himself up to his full imposing height. He had
an undeniable aura of wisdom and power. He locked eyes with Gandalf
and the look he gave his fellow wizard could only be called one of disappointment.
“Your name afore time was more apt, Gandalf, for with the departure
of Sauron the world has gone grey with compromise.”
With that the wizard turned his back, but he had not taken
a step before Aragorn called to him. “Berwith, you may be glad
of this new order of compromise ere long, for you and I shall meet again
at the council of your brethren. Matters are not yet finished between
us.” Aragorn spoke as softly as Gandalf but where Gandalf had
spoken more in sorrow than in anger there was no mistaking the hard
edge in Aragorn’s tone.
Berwith did not turn but he again addressed Gandalf. “Do
you hear, my friend, this mortal means to bring me to account? Well,
so be it. I have naught to fear from such a one. I wonder, though, my
friend, are you still far sighted enough to see that the same fate may
well befall you? When your turn comes and these creatures demand that
you answer for your past deeds, how will you fare? I doubt, oh leader
of the remaining Istari, that your conscience is as clear as mine.”
Berwith was allowed the last word and it was with great relief
that I watched him depart the camp leaning heavily upon his staff. As
he left Gandalf muttered quietly: “He is much changed. He was
not always, thus. He was once very great and very wise.” No one
commented upon Gandalf’s observation but I thought back to what
the Haradrim captain had said that the ‘world had changed.’
Perhaps Berwith had become what he was because he had not changed.
Gandalf tore himself from his reverie with an effort and
turned to Aragorn. “It looks like you and Faramir have had some
grand adventure.” He stated.
“Indeed and I would gladly tell you all about it but
I think I must first tend to these injuries. I would be glad of your
aid Gandalf for a second pair of eyes and hands would be most helpful.”
Aragorn spoke casually and loud enough for all around to hear. Then
he started off in the direction of Dalfor’s pavilion, back straight
and head held high. Aragorn still clasped my arm and though I could
feel slight tremors running through him none of those who gathered to
watch could tell just how much he needed my support. Gandalf and Everstil
followed close behind us observing carefully.
As soon as the tent flap fell shut on the prince of Harad’s
grand pavilion Aragorn stumbled. I reached to steady him but Everstil,
who had been walking immediately behind us, reached him first. Ignoring
the king’s faint protest Everstil swept him up into his arms.
I stepped in front of Everstil and held out my own arms expecting the
man to let me carry Aragorn. I felt entitled as though I had the exclusive
right to care for my lord. Everstil just stared at me. I suddenly became
aware that the king’s champion felt just as entitled as I did
and as far as the world knew I had no special rights at all. Besides,
Everstil was taller and broader than I and probably would have less
difficulty supporting the king. As I considered this Aragorn gave up
the pretense of strength and let his eyes flutter closed and his head
rest on Everstil’s shoulder. I moved aside quickly, though I remained
close by. Everstil carried Aragorn to a large bed strewn with cushions
and set him down very gently.
“What has happened here? Did I not say this was all
folly? You should never have come to this place. Who knows what might
have happened had I been delayed. How can any of this have happened?”
Everstil demanded angrily after he had safely set Aragorn down. The
man looked very upset and a little lost. He was gazing about the luxurious
tent as though seeking something or someone to heap his anger, confusion
and frustration upon.
“I will gladly listen to your lecture, my lord. But
I beg you to wait until tomorrow to deliver it when I will be better
able to appreciate it.” Aragorn said tiredly.
Everstil still looked unhappy but Gandalf began shooing both
of us away. “Go order people about or whatever it is you do. You
will probably need to set guards on your guards to make sure no harm
comes to your prisoners. I’ll tend Aragorn.” I badly wanted
to stay and tend to Aragorn myself but I soon found myself pushed to
the outside with Everstil.
The king’s champion turned to me still afire with questions:
“What in blazes happened, Faramir? I want to know did any of those
Southron scum touch him. Tell me everything.” I had no idea where
to begin or what to say. How could I even begin to tell him everything?
It was all so incredible. I didn’t feel up to answering any questions.
All I really wanted to do was to go back inside the tent and make sure
my lord would be all right.
Everstil had compassion upon me, though. He took a calming
breath and put his large hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry,
Faramir, I wasn’t thinking. Do you need a healer? I have a man
who could take a look at you if you like.”
I shook my head ‘no’. I was ashamed that my lord
had taken great hurt while I remained relatively uninjured but I needed
no healer. My bruises would heal well enough on their own. “If
you could spare some rations I’d be grateful.” I said moving
to sit by one of the abandoned campfires.
“I’ll see what I can scare up.” Everstil
offered. “The wizard is probably right, blast him. I’d best
go see that my lads don’t get too rough with the prisoners. Wouldn’t
want to cheat the executioner, would we? I’ll be back.”
The big man added as he stalked off in the direction where the captured
Haradrim huddled.
My thoughts were filled with Aragorn as I sat forlornly waiting
for Everstil’s return. I was glad Gandalf was there. The wizard
would do all that could be done but I worried. Head wounds were notoriously
unpredictable and the lady may have done something terrible that I didn’t
even know of yet. I nearly got up to go to the pavilion twice before
I convinced myself that I would only be in the way and that it was better
to let the wizard work uninterrupted.
After a while Everstil finally returned. He had brought a
plate of stew and half a loaf of bread. I thanked him then fell to.
I shoveled food into my mouth for several minutes before a thought occurred
to me: “Where are Legolas and Gimli?”
“As we attacked a few of the Southron cowards ran without
offering battle. The elf and dwarf volunteered to track them down.”
Everstil replied. “They should return soon. I doubt they made
much of an effort to take prisoners.” Everstil glanced in the
direction of the captured Haradrim as if he wished he had not made so
much of an effort to take prisoners either.
“But why are you here?” I asked as my curiosity
started to reassert itself thanks to the food and the chance to rest.
Everstil raised an eyebrow at my inquiry. “Not that I am not pleased
to see you, but shouldn’t you be in Minas Tirith?”
“I should be at my king’s side.” Everstil
said loyally but evasively. I waited patiently. Finally, the king’s
champion continued. “I told him that I absolutely insisted upon
collecting some men and accompanying him and there was nothing he could
do about it. Elessar just looked at me with that sort of enigmatic expression.
You know the one where he is trying to decide if he is amused or annoyed?”
I nodded. Everstil often received that look from his king.
“Anyway he said that it was late and that he was leaving
very early. And if I caused a panic in the City by mustering soldiers
in the dead of night to escort the king on a quick jaunt to Mordor then
I would regret it. Well usually I’d be tempted to chance it. After
all the worst he could do would be to cut off my head, right? And if
the people got wind that Elessar was planning a trip into such dangerous
territory they would besiege the castle to stop it. So it would all
be in a good cause. But- well you know Faramir, you were there- I did
a fair bit of talking and maybe not enough thinking at that council
meeting. Elessar had already had some rather harsh things to say on
the subject.” Here Everstil fidgeted a little at the uncomfortable
memory. I gave him a sympathetic look and nodded for him to continue.
“So I didn’t really want to challenge him just
then. Instead I promised that there would be no panic but I would not
be deterred from my duty as I understood it. He gave me that look again
and said he expected no less from me. The next day he left with you
and the wizard and I began collecting men who were good riders and knew
how to keep their mouths shut. Oh, in case anyone asks: you and the
king and the rest of us have been surveying some of the lands on the
outer periphery of the Dark Lord’s former sphere of influence
as well as making diplomatic nicety nice with various local chieftains
etcetera.” Everstil added gruffly.
“Anyway I left the City two days after you did with
about fifty men. Nearly the entire route was just crowded with orcs
and those other nasty buggers, you know. . .”
“Uruk-hai.” I supplied.
“Right, those. We encountered three of them, lucky
not at the same time. Damn large monsters. It was almost as though they
were on the lookout for a large group of men. I would have expected
much less resistence but I could almost believe they were waiting for
us. All this fighting delayed us. We were nearly too late. Elessar,
must have had some notion that I meant to follow him since the wizard
sent Prince Legolas to find us. The elf came across our camp last evening
and told us that Elessar was set to walk into a nest of Haradrim and
if we wanted to be of any use we needed to get a move on. We’ve
been riding since before dawn. Though, why if the Haradrim have been
here three days you have only just now encountered them, what that gods
damn Haradrim brat thought he was playing at or how my king came to
be injured are not questions that I can answer.” Everstil’s
voice rose steadily as he spoke the last sentence. At the end, he was
grinding his right fist into his left palm cracking his knuckles ominously.
Everstil looked at me pointedly, anticipating that I would
return the favor and give him the other half of the story. I wasn’t
sure if there was anything I could say to this blunt practical man that
would make any sense. I was going to try to give a brief account of
the more prosaic happenings, glossing over anything having to do with
magic and completely omitting reference to. . . to anything else when
I was saved by the appearance of Legolas and Gimli.
The two friends strode up to us looking purposeful. “Faramir,
I am glad to see you well.” The dwarf greeted, pumping my hand
with genuine warmth.
“And I you.” I replied smiling. “You came
at a most opportune time to save us from the dubious hospitality of
Gondor’s neighbor to the south.”
“So I observed.” Legolas said. The elf’s
voice was completely without inflection, I wondered what he had seen.
Had his eyes been sharp enough to see Dalfor assault Aragorn? If they
had been then Dalfor’s life very likely depended upon the elf
keeping the information from Everstil and his men. As it was I noticed
that Legolas and Gimli had returned without any prisoners and it was
highly unlikely that their quarry had escaped them.
“How is Aragorn?” Legolas asked breaking me out
of my thoughts.
“Gandalf is looking after him. Perhaps we should go
see if we can be of any assistance.” I replied.
Everstil rose eagerly and gave Legolas a polite bow before
heading off in the direction of the pavilion. The elf looked at him
impassively before following with me and Gimli by his side. There was
still a coolness between the two but I had hope that the elf and man
would grow to respect one another.
As we walked Legolas addressed me softly: “How are
you feeling, Faramir?”
The question surprised me and I gave the conventional answer
automatically. “Fine, thank you.” As I thought about it
I realized that it was more or less true. “Why do you ask?”
I couldn’t help inquiring. The question would have been completely
unremarkable coming from most people but the elf prince did not strike
me as the sort of person to ask such a question as a mere conversation
filler and I was obviously not in any immediate distress.
“You walk more lightly upon the earth, as though some
great heaviness has been lifted from you.” Legolas replied with
a straight face.
“Oh,” was all I could think to say. Before I
could decide if I wanted to pursue the matter further we reached the
pavilion.
Everstil pounded insistently against a shield set up by the
tent’s entrance with the hilt of his dagger. There came from within
a testy sounding response the words of which I could not quite discern.
As we stepped into the tent all thought of the elf’s mysterious
words fled my mind to be replaced by the sight of my lord sitting up
in bed propped up by pillows with a bandage wrapped around his head
and a large purple bruise marring his cheek. He looked tired but his
eyes no longer shifted in and out of focus as they had done earlier.
He had obviously been engaged in conversation with Gandalf. But whatever
their talk it had abruptly broken off as the four of us invaded the
tent.
Aragorn’s face lit up upon seeing his friends. Warm
greeting were exchanged. I looked to Gandalf to see if I could find
any sign of Aragonr’s condition on the wizard’s face. Gandalf
did not look overly concerned and this relieved my mind much.
“What sort of trouble have you managed to get yourself
into without us by your side?” The dwarf said eyeing Aragorn’s
bruises.
“Nothing that won’t mend, my friend.” Aragorn
answered with a smile.
“Do not be so sure. What would Arwen say if she found
out you had lost this?” As Legolas spoke he produced from his
tunic the Evenstar pendant.
Aragorn’s hand flew to his throat feeling for the object
that was not there. It was clear from his expression that he had no
idea how he had been parted from the pendant. After a moment he took
the necklace from Legolas saying: “It seems I shall need looking
after in my old age.”
I had quite forgotten about the necklace, myself. I surmised
that it must have been surreptitiously retrieved by one of the Haradrim
after Berwith had thrown it to the side. If Legolas had seen the theft
and tracked the perpetrator it was no wonder that the prince and the
dwarf had returned without any prisoners. Both elves and dwarves took
matters of honor quite seriously.
Gandalf harumphed. “However that may be Aragorn, you
will certainly need looking after for the next few days. You must be
careful and rest. Someone will need to stay with you. I want to make
sure that you don’t forget to drink this lovely delicious tea
I’ve made for you.” With these last words Aragorn grimaced
and the wizard, dwarf and elf broke into large vengeful smiles. I assumed
these expressions alluded to some shared memory of the fellowship of
the ring and again I felt like the odd one out.
This time, however, I was not the only one feeling excluded.
Everstil had been pacing restlessly since entering the tent. “And
who is responsible for the fact that you will need looking after?”
The man interjected forcefully.
Aragorn turned his attention to his agitated champion. “Please,
my lord stop pacing you are making me dizzy. How are the prisoners?”
Everstil came up to the side of Aragorn’s bed. He very
nearly shouldered the slender elf aside before he remembered himself
and approached more circumspectly. “They’re scared and their
prince is shaking in his royal boots. But you didn’t answer my
question.” Aragorn lifted an eyebrow and Everstil added a bit
defensively “my lord king.”
“The worst injury cannot be avenged by you, my dear
champion. I would urge you not to think upon it.” The king said
as his hand reached unconsciously to his forehead where the lady’s
power had struck him. “Assuage the prisoners’ concern. Assure
them no harm will come to them. Consult with their captain and release
those who will go home and cause us no more trouble on this journey.
As for the prince I want him treated with all due honor.”
“So you want him hanged at dawn.” Everstil replied.
Gimli laughed and the corners of Legolas’ mouth twitched upward.
Aragorn sighed. “No, I don’t. We are going to
escort the wayward prince back to Harad and his father.”
“You aren’t just going to let him go! The little
brute has committed an act of aggression against Gondor in the persons
of you and Faramir. You may not choose to tell me everything but I can
bloody well figure out that his intentions towards you were not benign.
For the gods’ sake I was told how my men first found you. You
were bound and nearly unconscious!” Everstil exclaimed.
“If you have such a care for my well-being then please
not so loud.” Aragorn winced. “It will be vengeance enough
to take the boy home to his father as the misbehaving child he is. Besides
it will be a gesture of good faith. Ultimately we want to be friends
with our neighbors.” I doubted very much that if Dalfor ever came
to rule that there could be anything but outright war between Gondor
and Harad. The king had other sons, though and Dalfor would be disgraced
by this escapade.
Everstil looked a bit sullen. “Yes, I suppose so. Among
my men, however, the Haradrim are known as a clumsy lot. It’s
just possible that some of those we release might have some kind of
accident. The kind of accident where a man stumbles and ends up strangled
by his own intestines and left out for others to find as a warning not
to be so clumsy. You know the kind of accident I speak of. The prince
might have such an accident.”
“Then it is fortunate we are here to prevent such mishaps.
I mean it, Everstil, if you cannot or will not control your men I will
find someone who can. We must be better than that.” Aragorn looked
quite fierce and Everstil sadly nodded his understanding.
“Very good, see if you can’t get everything sorted
out and we shall be off tomorrow. I w-”
“You are not going anywhere tomorrow, Aragorn.”
Gandalf interrupted. “I told you that you need looking after.
I want you to have at least a full’s day’s rest, probably
more, before you go anywhere.”
Aragorn looked ready to argue but Everstil had crossed his
arms over his broad chest ready to back the wizard to the hilt. Gimli
and Legolas both wore broad smirks as though they would dearly love
for Aragorn to force the issue. I did my best to appear stern and moved
closer to Gandalf and Everstil to show my support for their position.
Seeing how matters stood, Aragorn sighed. “Very well,
but I do not wish to stay here longer than strictly necessary. Would
it be too much of an imposition, Everstil, to ask you to escort the
Haradrim back to their home tomorrow and I will return to Gondor as
soon as it is permitted?” Aragorn asked his tone deceptively humble.
Everstil considered before answering. “I would be more
comfortable, my lord, if I and the full contingent of men remained with
you until we have left Mordor. Then, if it is your command, I will take
the fewest number of guards consistent with safety to Harad with the
prisoners while you return to your people.” Everstil had dropped
his confrontational attitude, perhaps sensing that the king’s
patience was finally wearing thin. Aragorn nodded and Everstil, taking
this as a dismissal, bowed and left the tent to start choosing which
of the prisoners could be released.
“If you are so intent upon leaving soon then I suppose
we should leave you to rest.” Legolas said, though there was a
twinkle in his eye that suggested he was not quite ready to leave off
teasing his friend.
“You forget, master elf,” Gimli put in with an
answering twinkle in his own eye, “this man cannot be trusted
to take care of himself. The wizard said it himself someone more responsible
will have to see he comes to no more harm.”
“I will stay.” I said rather more eagerly than
was completely consistent with dignity.
“Don’t look at me.” Gandalf said. “I
have played nurse-maid to enough hobbits in my time that I should be
relieved of any future obligation to tend the helpless.” “I
will stay.” I repeated insistently.
“I suppose we could draw straws.” Legolas suggested.
“Let me stay.” I begged.
“That would be the fair way, I suppose.” Gimli
answered the elf.
“I will stay!” I announced trying to sound authoritative
and trying to ignore the slightly puzzled look I saw on my lord’s
face as though he were trying to recall some elusive thought.
“Damn it, Faramir.” Gimli snarled. “This
was our chance to get a little of our own back and you go and ruin it.”
“It’s probably just as well, master dwarf. He
really does need rest.” Gandalf said resignedly.
Legolas smiled a little at the dwarf’s near pout then
took Aragorn’s hand. “Recover quickly, Estel.” The
dwarf followed the elf from the pavilion after patting Aragorn’s
shoulder and glowering one last time at me.
Gandalf quickly showed me the herbs he wanted Aragorn to
drink every couple of hours, made sure I could tie a bandage the way
he thought most proper and gave strict orders that I should summon him
if Aragorn’s condition changed in any way. “Don’t
be afraid to let him sleep, Faramir. The tea will keep him from slipping
into a death-slumber. Make sure he eats slowly. The prince’s pantry
is well-stocked and there is stew heating on the coals. I shall see
that none disturb you.” The wizard concluded before slipping from
the tent. Aragorn had listened to Gandalf’s lecture with a vaguely
pained expression. I thought several times he was about to object to
being discussed as though he were not present or as though he knew nothing
about how to care for himself but he kept quiet while I listened attentively.
“Thank you for your intervention, Faramir. Those three
could have been at it for hours.” Aragorn said once the wizard
had departed.
I smiled nervously. I had wanted this, to be alone with my
lord but now I felt all my confidence desert me. I wasn’t sure
what to do. In my uncertainty I began tidying the tent. It relieved
my anxiety to be putting things in order and perhaps I could work my
way over to Aragorn and. . . and casually adjust the covers or examine
the bandage or something that involved being near him. I bit my lip,
ashamed of my petty plotting. I should really be trying to think of
a way to tell him I loved him and never mind the nonsense.
“Was it. . . did everything go well, Faramir? I can’t
remember. I have been trying but. . . I did not truly believe she could
do it. I thought somehow my mind would resist her but it did not. I
have no memory of the third day. There is simply nothing there.”
Aragorn spoke very quietly and tears pricked at my eyes when I heard
the distress in his voice when he admitted that the lady had stolen
something which should always be safely beyond anyone’s reach.
“All went well.” I said lamely, desperately trying to organize
my thoughts so I could tell him what had happened between us on that
day.
“I know, the first two days, they were particularly
hard on you. The lady seemed to delight in hurting you especially. You
were very brave, but I could tell. She did not. . . hurt you further,
did she?” I had never heard Aragorn sound so unsure, so tentative.
I could not speak. He cared, he really did. The memory of
the lady’s tormenting voice exposing my secrets and shattering
my wounded soul into shards of pain and humiliation haunted me but that
did not effect me as much as the knowledge that Aragorn’s greatest
concern was that I had been hurt and that he was unable to even remember
how or if there was any way for him to help. I wanted to launch myself
into his arms both to give comfort and receive it. “She did hurt
me but you healed me.” I said my voice thick.
Aragorn heard my words and the tension in his face eased
for just a second then his face hardened into fierce resolve. He was
so terribly tired. I moved to him then. I wanted to help him, love him,
serve him, but all I did was worry him. “Tell me, tell me what
that creature did to you, Faramir.” He demanded struggling to
sit up on his own without the cushions.
I sighed. I couldn’t put him through this, not now.
If I just blurted out ‘I love you’ then he would wonder
why I said it. He might have to decide if he loved me or if he should
say. He was too exhausted to have to deal with me and my onerous devotion.
“Have you spoken to Gandalf about the lady and the tests, my lord.”
I asked trying to change the subject so that he could relax a little.
He looked as though he were about to ignore my question and
press forward with his own when he stopped and smiled kindly at me.
“I have told Gandalf only what I thought he had a need to know,
that we were asked difficult question, given dreams of our desires and
that we refused arcane powers.” I wondered what that meant and
then it occurred to me that Aragorn thought I was asking if he had told
Gandalf my answer to the lady’s question. I blushed. I trusted
him to use whatever information I had revealed in any way he thought
best. I was not a child worried that he had shared my secrets.
“What did he make of it all?” I asked.
“He believes that it is now certain that all things
magical will abandon middle-earth and that men will proceed alone.”
Aragorn answered.
“Wasn’t that to be the way of things regardless?”
I asked surprised.
“Not necessarily. If we had accepted the lady’s
gifts there would have been an anchor for magic of all kinds. The elves
would have had something to cling to. There would have been a role for
wizards. That is over now. The ring has been destroyed and nothing has
come to take its place. Without a dark lord the lady of light will not
remain with us for long. The cycles and symmetry of history that have
persisted throughout the ages have been broken. Are you disappointed,
Faramir? Was it wrong to sever ties to the supernatural?” Aragorn
did not sound regretful only curious to know what I thought.
I thought of the exhilaration and purpose, power and meaning
that seemed so often associated with the ring war and its mystical talisman.
It would be a pity to lose that, the splendor and beauty of the elves
and the knowledge that one’s enemies were truly evil, bent on
creating suffering for its own sake. It was one thing to fight orcs
and uruk-hai it was another to fight someone more or less like yourself
who wanted more land so he could sleep secure at night or more money
so he could provide for his family. But then orcs were once elves and
perhaps war always made each side altogether too smug. Now that I thought
of it were the elves really so perfect. Were they not flawed by their
ignorance of death and the cruel side of nature? Unlike men, though,
who were constantly forced to face the consequences of their own limitations
Elves were spared the responsibility of their flaws. My brother had
been a good man, one of the very best, but he had not fit neatly into
the too simple categories of good and evil that magic had divided the
world into.
Men had their own magic, different than Galadriel, Sauron,
Gandalf or the Lady, their own exhilaration and purpose, power and beauty.
My troops, alone on the borders of Gondor fighting bandits, the occasional
orc and the weather without any elfish spells or magical staff had possessed
a certain magic. Mothers helping their children take a first step or
fathers teaching their children to saddle a horse, that too was magic.
When Aragorn had called me from the shadow that had been a human magic,
subtler, less breathtaking than rings of power but real and meaningful
nonetheless. I thought about what could be done in a world of human
magic that had never been done in the world of elves and dark lords.
We could make of the wide world a City where the laws did not play favorites
and all were welcome to make of themselves what they could and forge
their own understanding of what was good. There was so much potential
and it was all magical.
“I think there is enough magic in the hearts of men
without the lady’s tricks and props.” I finally answered
hoping I did not sound like the starry eyed fool my father had sometimes
thought me.
“It may be so.” Was all Aragorn permitted himself
to say but I saw the smile in his eyes and the hope in his voice as
he said it.
We looked at each other for a long moment and I think we
were both lost in the possibility of the future. Eventually, my lord
was brought out of his reverie by what seemed to me a sudden attack
of dizziness. He brought his hand to his head and leaned back against
the cushions. I started towards him. “It’s nothing. Don’t
worry.” He said as he waved me away with his other hand. “Would
you please bring me another cup of Gandalf’s wretched tea, sweetheart?”
I turned to obey but turned back as I heard Aragorn’s
breath catch. He looked chagrined. “My apologies, Prince of Ithilien.
I must be more tired than I realized.” He said as a faint pinkish
glow was added to the blue and purple on his bruised face.
What was he talking about? I tried to replay the last few
minutes of conversation in my head. A light dawned and I set about fixing
the tea quickly to hide my smile. He had called me ‘sweetheart’.
I had grown spoiled in the lady’s prison. His endearments had
become like air to me only noticed when absent. I tried to calm my rapidly
beating heart. I should not read more into a simple slip of the tongue
than was warranted. After all, Aragorn had always been liberal- in a
paternal sort of way- with words of friendship and affection. But still,
perhaps some part of him remembered yesterday.
I brought the tea to him without comment. I would tell him.
I would. I would just let him rest a little first. “You should
sleep, Aragorn.” I said. Taking the now empty cup. I thought myself
very bold to use his name but it would probably do some good to show
him that I was comfortable with greater intimacy between us. He smiled
up at me and nodded before settling deeper into the large bed and closing
his eyes. I stood watching until his breath evened out and I was certain
he slept.
I considered finding a spare blanket and lying down across
the tent’s threshold to keep guard, but I did not want to sleep
so close to my lord yet apart from him. It would be a torture I was
not sure I could endure. Besides, I wanted this opportunity to go through
Dalfor’s papers. There might well be useful information buried
in the pile of loose documents cluttering the desk. I had a great deal
of work ahead of me.
I woke to someone gently shaking my shoulder.
As awareness slowly returned I realized that I was slumped
over the writing desk in Dalfor’s pavilion and Aragorn was softly
calling my name. From the sounds of insects I guessed it must be the
middle of the night. I had a crick in my neck and there was drying sand
from the documents stuck to my face where I had rested it against the
papers. A lamp was illuminating the tent, Aragorn must have lit it for
I had not and the candle I had been reading by had burnt out.
“My lord, you should be asleep.” I said my tongue
still slow with sleep.
“I have slept enough for the time being. Besides, you
should be in bed.” Aragorn responded, as he began putting together
a meal from the food available. “Rather than hunched over someone
else’s correspondence. Are you hungry?”
I rubbed my face and struggled to my feet. “Yes, but
you should let me take care of this.” I said as I went over to
him holding out my hand for the bread knife he was using.
Aragorn looked at me for a moment before surrendering the
knife. “You look unhappy, Faramir. Why is that?” My lord
asked me as I took over the meal preparation.
I froze. My brain was still fogged with sleep. I should gather
my faculties before trying to answer that question. “Because I
am a coward and I cannot tell you something that I need to tell you.”
I blurted out. I cringed inwardly. I should retreat and make a better
start later.
“Do you fear me, Faramir? I swear it has never been
my intent but have I ever treated you cruelly?” Aragorn asked
quietly.
“No, my lord.” Was all I could manage.
There was silence for a long time and then I just started
speaking. I had no idea what I was going to say until I heard the words
come out of my mouth. “It’s not that I am afraid of you,
not exactly. I just want you to think well of me so much that it is
like fear.” I brought a plate of stew to Aragorn with bread and
raspberry preserves. I took a few bites of my own bread and jam without
even really thinking about what I was doing. I stuffed the morsels into
my mouth to keep myself from reaching for Aragorn. I knew that the food
would do nothing for the emptiness inside of me but I needed at least
the illusion that I was filling the aching hollowness. “You are
so kind to me and I tell myself that that is just the way you are. That
it doesn’t mean anything. Or maybe just maybe it does mean something
but if you really knew what I was like you would no longer be kind or
let me be near you. So I must be careful to make sure you never find
out about all the ugliness inside of me because if you sent me away
it would be like the end of the world.”
I took another bite of bread swallowing hard, swallowing
the lump in my throat and the rising tide of fear along with my food.
“I love you. I love you so much.” I took a long breath,
fighting desperately for control of my rampaging emotions. “On
the third day we spent in the lady’s prison you said. . . you
said you loved me too and for the first time I no longer felt broken
inside. But now I am just so scared that it wasn’t real, that
it wasn’t true.” I was having to concentrate to breathe.
My vision was a little blurry and though I tried to focus I could not
make out my lord’s expression.
And then it was all over. I was being held in strong arms.
My breath came easily and my heart no longer threatened to burst from
my chest. “Oh Faramir, oh my angel. Of course, I love you. You
never have to hide anything from me.” The affection, the love
was clear in Aragorn’s voice. I draped my arms around his neck
and hung limply. I lost myself in the heat of Aragorn’s body and
the smell of his skin but as I pressed my face closer I encountered
cold. I flinched away. It was the Evenstar’s pendant. I adjusted
myself against him slightly and was again enveloped in perfect warmth.
It was going to be all right, I thought in wonder. It was going to be
all right.
As the panic fled away I clung more tightly to Aragorn. He
was holding me and petting my hair as he whispered my name over and
over. Strength flooded through me. I tipped my head upward and kissed
Aragorn deeply, passionately trying to communicate all my burning desire
for him in the pressure of my mouth on his. My lord’s eyes widened
in surprise and though he did not pull back he did not respond either.
I broke the kiss feeling my face flush. Had I made a terrible
mistake? Had I misunderstood what I was being told. He had said he loved
me, yes, but there were many kinds of love in the world. What if he
meant he loved me like a friend or a brother or, gods help me, a son.
I certainly acted enough like a child when I was with him I thought
bitterly.
“That was not the first time, was it, Faramir?”
Aragorn asked. “We have kissed like that before.”
“Yes, my lord.” I breathed. Had some memory had
been sparked?
“Tell me what happened on that third day or as much
as you feel you can. I need to know.”
Aragorn led me over to the bed and sat down pulling me down
with him. He put his arms around me and I leaned into him. I could do
this. It would be all right. If he would just hold me then I could do
anything.
I talked a long time. When I told Aragorn that the lady had
revealed all my fantasies and lovesick imaginings about him, he cursed
her. I could feel the rage burning in him. I smoothed his hair and told
him that all was well until he was calm again. I marveled at his anger
on my behalf. He held me tightly and told me never to be ashamed of
anything I thought or felt. It was the lady who was wrong. He said it
over and over until I was smiling at his insistence and nodding my agreement.
I could not bring myself to reveal the details of our lovemaking.
I could not speak but in the most general terms but as I spoke I pressed
very soft kisses to his neck and shoulder, hoping to communicate some
of the tenderness and love that were behind my words. Again, though,
the queen’s necklace seemed almost to put itself in the path of
my kisses. It was strange for I did not remember even being aware of
the pendant while we were in the lady’s prison but now the small
crystal seemed to be everywhere, coming between us.
I continued to speak of the events of the third day ending
with our rejection of the lady’s offered gifts and her parting
words to me. Aragorn was lost in thought and for a while I was content
to lean quietly against him. Finally, I summoned my courage and said:
“I am sorry she stole your memories. It was a horrible thing to
do.” It was hopelessly inadequate especially after all the comfort
he had given me but Aragorn did not even seem to notice the banality
of my words.
“We shall have to defeat her, Faramir, by making new
memories.” Aragorn said in a whisper. Then he kissed me and it
was a kiss of passion and desire. I kissed back tasting raspberry jam,
healing herbs and Aragorn. We had been separated by something greater
than time or distance but now we were together again and my soul was
starved for him. The first kiss had melted into a second and then a
third. I allowed my lips and tongue to roam from his mouth. Feeling
the rough texture of his beard triggered something fierce and passionate
within me and I began kissing with greater force until I felt Aragorn
wince against me. I drew back and saw again the bruises that marked
his beautiful face. I reached out a hand to tenderly touch the swollen
flesh but Aragorn caught my wrist. He brought it to his mouth and sucked
and nipped at the flesh between my thumb and forefinger. I shuddered
as all the blood seemed to race to my groin.
I was on him again in a moment. Trying to avoid his injuries
I licked at his ears and lay wet sucking kisses down his neck. When
I reached his collarbone I meant to measure its length with my tongue
but along with the warm slightly salty taste of his heated skin I also
tasted cold metal. I was nearly in tears as I retreated once more from
lady Arwen’s necklace. I wanted to ignore the thing but I couldn’t.
We were no longer shielded from the world in the lady’s prison.
My lord had a beautiful wife whom he loved. That fact would not go away
no matter how much I wanted it to. Could I be anything more than an
occasional diversion for him? And though I thought I could accept receiving
only the scraps and leftovers of his affection Aragorn was a noble man.
Would he not grow to hate himself for his dalliance with me? “What
is the matter, beloved?” Aragorn asked peering into my face.
“What of the queen, your majesty?” I asked miserably.
Aragorn recoiled slightly whether because of the mention of the of lady
Arwen or because I had used more formality than he could tolerate hearing
from someone he had just been kissing I could not say. I was grateful
for his retreat, however, the nearer he was the harder it became to
do anything but find a way to get even closer.
“What of Éowyn, lord prince?” He asked in a tone
of gentle inquiry.
“Éowyn loves us both and is loved in turn. She would
be happy if we were happy.” I answered. Éowyn was not the issue.
I felt certain my wife would not only understand but approve. It was
difficult to say exactly why but I thought that the love between myself
and Aragorn could somehow bind the three of us all the more tightly
together. I wondered if I had always been subconsciously jealous of
the special relationship of trust and affection that existed between
my lord and my wife and that jealousy had negatively affected my perceptions.
But all this speculation was beside the point. Éowyn was not the obstacle.
“And it is different for Arwen?” The question
took me by surprise. Of course, it was different for lady Arwen. The
difference was the difference between Aragorn and Faramir which was
to say all the difference in the world.
Aragorn looked into my uncomprehending face and moved forward
a little to stroke my cheek. “Arwen knows I love you, Faramir.
She knew even before I realized it myself. What is more, she is very
fond of you. I think she could grow to love you if you would give her
the chance.”
“She knows?” I was stunned. “How come she
has not yet poisoned my food?” I wondered aloud. Aragorn laughed
but it had not been entirely a jest.
“Listen to me, Faramir. Has Arwen ever said or done
anything to make you think she found you objectionable?”
“No.” I murmured. And then suddenly everything
seemed to click into place like a random pattern that suddenly resolves
itself into a picture. For what seemed like months now the queen had
been making cryptic comments to me that were now no longer cryptic.
Lately Éowyn had been joining in. I had thought they had been speaking
of Leonin but perhaps they had been talking about me. Had Éowyn and
Arwen spoken together about me and my love for Aragorn? How could I
have been so oblivious? “I thought she meant. . . Did she really
know?” I was overwhelmed.
“When we return home we shall talk to the ladies. Everything
will be all right but I don’t want there to be misunderstandings,
secrets or mistrust between those I love, Faramir.”
I nodded. It would not be easy to face the queen, but my
lord was right. The time for secrets was over. I moved forward eager
to touch Aragorn again and feel his touch in return. I very much wanted
to explore that wonderful little hollow at the base of his throat. I
started by moving my tongue down across his Adam’s apple. Aragorn
moaned softly and squeezed my shoulders. I moved a little lower and
Aragorn raised his head to give me more room. His movement, however,
brought the chain once more between us. I was determined not to let
it bother me, though. So I moved away from his throat and moved down
to suckle against the dark brown nipple that quickly hardened under
my hungry mouth.
With a small groan Aragorn pushed me gently back from him.
I looked up at him questioningly. He took my hand and brought it to
his chest, to where the Evenstar pendant lay. “It’s all
right, sweetheart.” He said as I trembled a little. Then he placed
my hand over the pendant and held it there. It was no longer cold as
I remembered it being. In fact, it was quite warm. It was such a little
thing. It seemed impossible that this could have been an obstacle between
us. The crystal somehow magnified the feel of my lord’s beating
heart. It was an astonishing thing really, a symbol of eternal love.
I moved my thumb along the smooth surface. I realized there was nothing
here to keep me from Aragorn. I did not need to fear or avoid the delicate
pendant I only needed to respect its meaning.
“You know, Faramir, that my father died when I was
very young.” Aragorn said as my expression changed from trepidation
to understanding as it finally came to me that the queen was truly not
a rival but a friend. “Of course, Elrond did his best for me.
In retrospect, I can see that he has always loved me very much but Elrond
was never. . . demonstrative. Since I was a child I have always wanted
a family. Now I want you to be a part of my family, Faramir.”
This was so much more than I ever expected. This surpassed
all my dreams and imaginings. My mouth worked but no sound came out.
After a moment I gave up trying to speak and simply hurled myself at
Aragorn. “I love you.” I finally managed after I had said
everything that could be communicated to another by pressing lips to
lips.
“I love you, too.” Aragorn said as he ran his
hands up and down my back.
Smiling invitingly I lay back on the bed. I did not quite
trust the attractive power of my smile, however, so I also kept a firm
grasp on Aragorn’s arms to make sure that he would come down with
me. For the space of one deep kiss my beloved lord allowed his full
weight to rest on top of me. I moaned into his mouth as his body covered
mine completely. Then Aragorn sat up straddling my hips and moving his
hands up under my shirt to caress my chest and belly. My own hands wandered
over the long thighs pinning my hips to the bed. I explored the steel
of Aragorn’s muscles through the thin fabric of his trousers.
Gods he was so beautiful to see, to touch, to taste.
“This would be easier without so much clothing between
us, dear-heart.” Aragorn said in husky whisper.
I quite agreed. Though Aragorn was wearing only a pair of
loose fitting trousers I had not intended to go to sleep and was still
completely dressed. With my eager assent Aragorn began working on my
shirt and tunic. He would raise my shirt just enough to reveal a narrow
band of flesh. Then he would stop to caress with fingers and tongue
the newly liberated area before pushing the shirt up another inch and
starting over again. I moaned quietly as he made his way slowly up my
body. With my desperate urging Aragorn finished divesting me of my top
layers. I sighed blissfully as the garments were finally tossed aside
and Aragorn leaned down to kiss me while his wonderful hands flowed
all over my bare torso.
I decided to help with the undressing by kicking off my boots.
As I struggled, though, to remove them without dislodging Aragorn from
atop me I found that my twisting and wriggling was bringing my hardening
penis into thrilling contact with Aragorn’s own erection. I forgot
the boots, only one of which had I managed to get rid of, and concentrated
on writhing and rubbing against my beloved Aragorn. My lord responded
by grinding his hips hard against mine and thrusting his tongue deep
into my mouth. I tangled my hands in his hair pulling him closer, inviting
even deeper contact.
When we finally broke apart to breathe Aragorn moved backward
so that he sat astride my thighs rather than my hips. I moaned a little
at the loss of the glorious yet achingly insufficient contact with my
shaft. Aragorn took my shoulders and lifted me up into an embrace. My
arms wrapped around him automatically and I let my head rest against
his shoulder. I noticed that the chain on the queen’s pendant
lay beneath my cheek but I was no longer troubled by the necklace and
a moment later I forgot about its presence.
“So often, in Minas Tirith, I would see you and it
would take all my self-control not to toss you over my shoulder and
carry you off somewhere we could be alone.” Aragorn breathed into
my ear.
“You would not have heard me complain.” I said
trying to scoot a little forward so that our bodies could be even closer.
“Ah, but my darling, you never complain and the absence
of complaint is not the same thing as consent. Though, I wanted you
so badly I was afraid I would forget that.” Aragorn answered stroking
my back from my shoulders down to the swell of my buttocks. I groaned
and arched my back.
I summoned the remnants of my will-power to divert some of
my concentration from his hands to his words. How could Aragorn ever
doubt that I wanted whatever he wanted? How could he believe that I
could ever object to his touch? It made no sense. Surely my desire for
him was obvious, it permeated my entire being.
Or perhaps it was not so obvious. Under Denethor’s
relentless eye, which I always believed to be just as penetrating as
Sauron’s, I had learned to hide my thoughts, feelings and emotions
deep within myself. Often it was useless and my father knew or guessed
whatever I most wanted to conceal. Thus, I have always believed myself
to be transparent. My thoughts were my own only so long as they did
not hold any interest for Denethor. This habit of secrecy, however,
had not died with my father. It was just possible that what happened
in my mind was truly not apparent to others. Aragorn might actually
need to be told what I wanted. He might want to be told.
“What if- in Minas Tirith- I had asked you to take
me away somewhere we could be alone?” I murmured softly.
“Then you would have found out how fast a northern
ranger can evade all pursuers when he has found a great prize he does
not wish to share.” Aragorn replied as his fingers transformed
the muscles of my lower back into liquid pleasure.
For a moment my mind abandoned me as Aragorn allowed a hand
to lightly squeeze my erection through the confines of my trousers.
I might have called out more loudly than would have been wise given
our surroundings if Aragorn had not also sealed his lips over mine muffling
my shout. As soon as thought returned to me I reached to take Aragorn’s
straining shaft in a firm grasp. The feel of the heated steel against
my palm only fueled my already burning hunger. This time, though, it
was Aragorn’s cry that was lost in a kiss. Had he not been sitting
on my legs, I think I would have taken him into my mouth right then,
trousers and all. I needed to feel the rigid unyielding heat of him
pushing hard against me, inside of me.
“What if I were to ask you to make love to me?”
I said breathlessly.
The question caused him to stop stroking up and down the
length of my shaft for just a moment. Soon though, he renewed his motions
and he leaned forward to lick my ear. Then he whispered so that his
breath teased the wet skin: “If you asked that, my Faramir, then
I would proceed to fulfil a great wish of my heart.”
“Make love to me, Aragorn, please.” I was almost
panting. Beneath my hand I felt Aragorn’s penis jump like a conscious
thing.
The next moment I was lying on my back again. Beginning at
the top of my forehead Aragorn kissed a line down the center of my body
until he reached the top of my trousers my hands joined with his as
I helped to push the offending material down past my hips. Finally freed
my erection sprang up demanding attention. Smiling, Aragorn circled
his thumb around the tip. My hands spasmed into fists and I jerked my
hips upward. Pleased with my reaction Aragorn finished removing my trousers
as well as discarding my one remaining boot before removing his own
clothes.
Now that we were both naked Aragorn returned his attention
to my aching penis. The pleasure was nearly intolerable as his gentle
caresses became increasingly firm. I was quickly losing control. “Please!”
I begged, flopping over onto my belly and giving him what I hoped was
a winsome look. Aragorn made a low throaty noise that sounded to me
like a hungry lion. He gripped my shoulders fiercely and kissed the
back of my neck with bruising force.
“Wait just a moment, angel-heart, just a moment.”
He said and I felt his sharp teeth graze my skin. I took a deep breath
and tried to remember that I was supposed to relax for what was coming.
I heard the sound of rummaging as Aragorn went through the medicines
and herbs Gandalf had shown me earlier. Then I heard a muffled curse
and the tinkling sound of glass breaking. I sat up suddenly. I should
have been less demanding of my injured lord. I had detected no sign
of any weakness but that meant nothing. He should be resting. At that
moment Aragorn returned to me carrying an earthenware jar.
“How do you feel?” I asked concerned as he sat
down on the bed. He raised an eyebrow at me suggestively but I was determined
to see that he did not aggravate his injuries. “Does your head
hurt at all? Do you feel the least bit dizzy?” I demanded gently
caressing the unbruised portions of his face.
“I’m fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry. I was
just a little clumsy in my eagerness to get back to you, my Faramir.”
Aragorn reassured me.
I let him soothe me and soon I was lying down once more.
I tried to turn onto my stomach again but Aragorn’s hand on my
hip stopped me. I waited curiously while Aragorn put his arm under my
knees and lifted. Then he kissed the tops of my bent knees and nudged
them gently apart. Understanding I moved my legs further apart to give
him easier access to my hidden opening. Smiling Aragorn dipped his fingers
into the jar and moved one slick finger up and down between my buttocks.
My eyes drifted closed at the extremely intimate touch and I let my
breath out in a murmur of anticipation. I did not keep my eyes closed
for long, however. In this position I was able to see Aragorn’s
face as he touched me. Watching him at the same time as his fingers
circled around the tight muscles guarding my entrance was indescribable.
With one hand Aragorn stroked my thighs and belly, the muscle
quivering under his touch. With the other hand he probed gently at the
cleft of my buttocks. Then with a gentle but insistent motion a single
finger delved into me. I gasped and twitched against the sheets. Letting
his finger dart in and out of my body Aragorn leaned forward and rested
his head against my stomach, while his bearded cheek rubbed against
the flat surface. The gesture was strangely comforting. Tenderly I caressed
his face and hair automatically I relaxed so he could have a soft resting
place for his head. The tension that had been building in me in anticipation
of the glorious yet still slightly frightening experience of having
Aragorn inside me was dissipating even as another finger was added to
the first.
Soon three fingers moved within me and I could receive them
easily. I moaned helplessly as Aragorn crooked his fingers slightly
stretching my opening and pushing a little deeper. How could he stand
to be so patient. “Please.” I managed to gasp as I tried
to keep myself from thrashing about in reaction to the exquisite sensation.
Aragorn’s gaze met mine. Simply seeing him as he did such wonderful
things to my body was a pleasure all in itself.
“I don’t want to hurt you, my angel. The more
you relax and let me do this the easier it will be.” Aragorn said,
leaning down to kiss me. I clutched at his shoulder desperately. I was
as relaxed as a man who was being pushed inch by inch into all-consuming
blood burning passion could possibly be.
“Won’t. . . hurt. . . please. . . now.”
Though I seemed to have had lost the power to construct complete sentences
my experience of the night before- had it been such a short time ago-
made me feel like I could speak with the authority of an expert.
Aragorn studied my face for just a moment before withdrawing
from me. Heaving a sigh of barely suppressed lust Aragorn turned to
the jar of oil. I propped myself up on my elbows to watch as Aragorn
rubbed the oil onto the glistening hardness of his shaft. Under the
calloused hands the already enlarged organ seemed to grow even bigger.
My eyes were wide and my mouth was dry with longing. In a moment Aragorn
was back, kneeling between my knees. I lowered myself back down onto
the bed as Aragorn brought my legs up to rest on his shoulders.
I watched my lord’s face as I felt the first gentle
nudge of exploration and then a quick sharp thrust accompanied by the
intense but short lived pain. I looked upon him with all the adoration
of a lovesick adolescent as he took me. In his stormy eyes I saw flashing
a fierce protective as well as a possessive intensity. But also hidden
in the grey depths I discerned a simple and innate gentleness. I felt
claimed, protected, possessed, loved.
I could not keep my legs perched atop Aragorn’s shoulders.
So as he moved deeper inside me I let my legs move to encircle his waist.
This position was slightly more awkward than when I had rested my weight
on my knees and forearms but this way I could see his face. Once he
buried himself completely within me he came forward to kiss me. I was
complete, full, with Aragorn within me: kissing me and making love to
me.
Eventually the kiss broke but my mourning was cut off as
Aragorn began to move. I bit my lip to keep from calling out. He moved
slowly until the initial pain had faded into the background to be replaced
by a pleasure made all the more keen by the preceding pain. When I could
tolerate the slow pace no longer I pushed my hips upward urging him
to strike harder. The rhythm Aragorn finally established was just enough
to keep me poised teetering on the brink of ecstacy without quite pushing
me over.
I felt so close to the edge that I feared that if Aragorn
even looked hard at my weeping shaft as it bounced between us that it
would send me plummeting into orgasm. Yet, Aragorn was able to grasp
my achingly hard member without sending me into unconsciousness. I looked
up at him imploringly as he moved above me. Increasing his pace fractionally
he began stroking me in synchrony. I flung my fist into my mouth biting
down hard as hot semen erupted from me and I felt the world disappear
in a mind obliterating release. I was not so lost, however, that I missed
the searing explosion of heat inside me as Aragorn reached his own climax.
Though my awareness was hazy I felt Aragorn lower himself exhausted
on top of me. My arms came up around him and we lay together breathing
heavily.
“I love you.” Aragorn said as he disengaged from
me and moved to lie on his side.
“I love you, too” I answered, delivering a clumsy
but heartfelt kiss to my lord’s chin. Still reeling from our recent
lovemaking, I studied Aragorn through heavy lidded eyes. His hair was
damp with sweat, the bandage around his forehead had come partially
undone and I was certain that his cheek was more swollen than it had
been before becoming the victim of my enthusiastic affection but a deep
satisfaction shone in the grey eyes. Sighing contentedly, I turned towards
him seeking out his warmth for just a moment more before I sat up and
started gently removing the bandage covering his forehead.
“Leave that, sweetheart. It will keep until morning.”
Aragorn said as I tried to coax him onto his back so that I could more
easily examine the results of the lady’s attack.
“It won’t take but a moment. I don’t want
to be the cause of any delay in your recovery. Let me do this, my lord.
Besides, despite their teasing if Gandalf, Legolas and Gimli thought
that I had been negligent in my care of you then I would have to face
the combined ire of a wizard, an elf and a dwarf.” I said appealing
to his sense of mercy.
Reluctantly Aragorn suffered me to bring him a cup of Gandalf’s
healing tea, bathe his bruises with soothing herbs and fasten a fresh
bandage around his injured forehead. My legs were a little wobbly as
I set about my various tasks. A fact which thanks to the dim lighting
in the tent I managed to conceal from Aragorn.
When I had finished tending my lord’s various injuries
I started returning all the herbs and medicines to their proper places.
Aragorn had left the jar he had broken in his search earlier that night
on the table and the rest of the healing supplies were all disordered.
Automatically I began straightening the jumble.
“Faramir.”
“My lord?” I asked looking up.
“Come to bed.” Smiling, I abandoned the still
disorganized medicines. As I drew near to Aragorn, however, my eyes
flicked reluctantly to my discarded trousers and the spare blankets
folded neatly on one of the chests.
“Come here, sweetheart.” Neither the endearment
nor the sleepiness that graced Aragorn’s voice could entirely
disguise the note of command.
Obediently I scrambled into the large bed. Aragorn’s
strong arms drew me close. Even as I was enveloped in the blissful nearness
of my beloved Aragorn I summoned every last shred of my willpower. “Shouldn’t
I. . . What if someone were to-”
“Sh.” Aragorn breathed, kissing the back of my
neck as I nestled even more snugly against him. “The only one
who would enter unannounced is Gandalf and if he is disquieted then
perhaps he will come to learn the courtesy of knocking.”
I thought about that for a moment. Then I giggled.
I was quickly losing myself to the languor of sleep. Contentment
permeated through me. I took one of Aragorn’s hands from where
it lay against my hip and kissed it tenderly, reverently.
“Aragorn?” I asked softly.
“Mm, ‘heart?”
“I love you.” As I spoke his arms tightened around
me. “I love you and. . . and I am very happy.”
-End
