I do not own Lord of the Rings or Middle Earth, although sometimes I swear it pops up in my backyard. I love messing with Faramir though, so I decided to write another fight out. In truth, I wrote the actually fight for this and Just A Little Scratch in my eleventh grade Physics class, but I put a story to it tonight and decided I liked it!
Keep Your Weapon, Kill the Enemy
Faramir crouched behind a tree as he heard footsteps approaching. Two men were about to pass him, two of the foul orcs that disgraced their land. The first one ran by, tall and lanky. He waited for the second, a shorter, stockier orc with a nasty face and jumped from behind the tree in surprise. Their swords clashed and their blades broke; an unfortunate turn of events in the battle. Before he could move, the orc had punched him in the face. Faramir grimaced as stars appeared faintly before his eyes. Aye, these orcs were dirty fighters.
But he could fight dirty too. And he punched him back. He drew back his arm to hit the beast again when the tall orc suddenly grabbed him from behind. Caught, the orc that he had just punched let loose on his face, punching him three times before kicking him hard in the stomach, knocking him to his feet as he was released onto the ground.
Dazed by the blows to his head, Faramir did what he could to get away, managing to only worsen his position by rolling against a tree. The orc glared down at him menacingly. "Now I've got ya." He cackled as he began kicking Faramir in the stomach. He could feel the bruises setting in and he felt a rib crack under the pressure. He shook his head, anger coursing in his veins for letting the beast best him and he grabbed the orc by the foot, causing it to fall.
The orc however wasn't done as he grabbed his broken scimitar and thrust what was left into Faramir's calf and drew it out sharply. As Faramir gasped in pain he saw the tall orc advance on him. He quick threw his shoulder into him, grabbed the orc's weapon and used it against him, killing him instantly. He panted as the pain of his injuries took over his ability to function properly. Slowly, he turned to face the second orc.
The orc was waiting for him. He wasn't sure how much more abuse his body could take when the orc threw is leg out and around, catching him in the chest and knocking him down. The orc drew him up, having fun drawing out his death. Faramir felt powerless to do anything and he was knocked down on his knees as the orc hit sharply on the side of the head with the flat of his broken scimitar.
He glanced up at the creature, malice in his eyes. The creature raised his blade for the kill. He was about to die, and he couldn't even stand. He sank down to the ground, near unconsciousness, waiting for the final death blow when he heard the sound of a body thudding on the ground. He forced his eyes open and saw the orc lying face down, his arm still clutching his blade, an arrow protruding from his back. He sighed and his eyes slid back shut.
Damrod came running forward as soon as he let the arrow loose. He had been looking for his captain when he spotted trouble. He knew he wouldn't reach Faramir in time and he shot the beast in the back, anger powering the arrow deep inside of it. He fell at his side, praying he was not too late and rolled the man over to find him unresponsive.
"Faramir! Faramir!" He tapped his face gently. His captain looked pale and worn, but he breathed still. "Please Faramir, please be alright. You saved me, remember the river? Now let me save you."
Faramir's eyes began to blink wearily. He drew a shaky breath and looked up at his friend. "Just a little scratch?" he asked doubtfully. He closed his eyes again and let Damrod asses his wounds
"Nay, I am afraid this a big scratch, this needs seeing to, and soon." He could see bruising already showing on his captain's face and he assumed there would be bruising else where. "Where did they hit you?" he asked, gently feeling around for broken bones.
"The stomach, oh they loved hitting me there. I think I may have broken a ahh...yeah, that one's broken." He grimaced as Damrod felt the broken rib again, this time more carefully.
"That can be set. But your leg…that needs to be cauterized." He bit his lip thinking of how much fun that would be. "Come let me help you up, we need to get you back quickly while you can still stand, heavily aided by me."
"No, just leave me." Faramir turned his head away in disgust with himself.
"What? No! Why do you say such a thing?" Damrod leaned down and felt his captain's head for any signs of fever that might have caused this deliriousness.
"I failed. I should be dead. I did not defeat my enemy."
"You are talking nonsense. You fought bravely, you did well sir. Any other man would have given up died long before you suffered all this." He gestured to the immense amounts of bruises. He knew Faramir would be sore for quite a few days from this.
Faramir looked up, his face pale from loss of blood. "You're right, I am talking nonsense. I am a fool of a captain…"
"Stop this self pity stuff, you are delirious. Now let me help you." He gave a no nonsense look and Faramir smiled like a child caught stealing a cookie.
"Aye, I must be sick in the head, I'm accepting help from someone like you!" He sat up with a great deal of effort; Damrod had to hold him steady. Faramir panted at the effort; he was worn completely down. His throat was parched and his head ached.
Damrod held him in place as he aided him in taking slow sips of water from his water skin. He then tore a strip off is cloak and soaked it with the cool water. He tied it around Faramir's head to help relieve the pain then did what he could to slow the bleeding of his leg. Convinced he could presently do no more, he slowly drew the man to a standing position.
"Come, they will be wondering where we are." Faramir leaned heavily on his friend as they made their way slowly back to the others. With each step, he seemed to fall heavier and heavier against Damrod. Damrod kept a strong arm around him, supporting his weight and preventing him from falling. As they reached the men however, Faramir collapsed, his body having made it thus far took a great deal of effort. Damrod caught the man and slowly lowered him to the ground, checking to see that he was still breathing. Mablung was at his side already, helping remove their captain's armor to allow him to breathe more easily. They exchanged looks and forced sad smiles.
Faramir was hurt, badly hurt, but they would see him through. Had he not tended them in turn when they were hurt? The men made their way back to Henneth Annûn as quickly as they could, Damrod and Mablung carrying Faramir between them. He awoke along the way and smiled at his men, knowing they would care for him; they were a family in a way. And that was why he smiled, knowing that it was for the men, and the women of Gondor, that made it all worth while.