Title: Call My Name - chapter1/?
Author: Rainien (Rainien@hotmail.com)
Pairings: Eomer/Faramir
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them from The Professor.
Summary: They say the hands of a King are the hands of a healer. Will Eomer be able to save the one he thought he'd left behind?
Warnings: None, this chapter
Feedback: Please?
Website: http://www.geocities.com/rainien1
Author's Notes:
This began as a challenge from my dear friend Valkyrie. It will eventually incorporate song lyrics, which will be from Evanescence's "Bring Me to Life."
Please take note of Ioreth's use of the word "kings" in the following passage. "Kings" - plural, as in more than one king. I always wondered if this was some sort of (gasp!) mistake on Tolkien's part as surely more than one King could not rule one kingdom. Perhaps it could be interpreted in a different way.
"Then an old wife, Ioreth, the eldest of the women who served in that house, looking on the fair face of Faramir, wept, for all the people loved him. And she said: 'Alas! if he should die. Would that there were kings in Gondor, as there were once upon a time, they say! For it is said in the old lore: The hands of the king are the hands of a healer. And so the rightful king should ever be known.'" ROTK 150
Chapter 1 - I am nothing in the dark.
Faramir's POV
Cold. So very cold. I could not remember ever being this cold, this numb. Even my heart was beginning to feel numb. I was going to die. I could feel it. The voice from the dark had been telling me, for what seemed like days, that I would die. The voice, and I knew then that this voice belonged to one of the Nazgul, had been telling me horrible things. Horrible, but I knew they were true.
Boromir was dead. My brother, the one who had stood by me all my life, was no more.
Father hated me, would never forgive me for living while Boromir was dead.
The White City would fall.
There would be no King.
The world of Men would be no more.
The one I loved was dead.
I was nothing in the dark.
I was going to die.
Eomer's POV
He would not die. Aragorn would not allow it. It seemed only yesterday that he sprang from the grass on the fields of Rohan, bringing hope where there was none. Now he said that Faramir could be brought back from the darkness that was consuming him. I believed him, because to give up hope now would be to give up on the one that I love. Faramir would not die.
A boy brought in the only athelas leaves that could be found. Only six leaves, but Aragorn said it would be enough. I watched as he gently breathed on two of the leaves then crushed them and dropped them into the water that was heated and brought. It seemed suddenly that the world was made new again, and I breathed deeply of air that seemed to have sprung newborn into the room. I looked wonderingly at Aragorn and he smiled, seeming refreshed himself, "Even dry and not freshly picked, athelas has a powerful effect. Do you see now, Eomer? Even surrounded by darkness, Faramir will be greatly helped."
I watched as Aragorn leaned close to Faramir, gently stroking an athelas-soaked cloth across his face, calling softly to him, "Son of Gondor, awake! Your foe is defeated and a new day will soon dawn. Come now and greet it!"
Almost immediately, Faramir seemed to breathe more deeply and I began to believe that his eyes would soon open. But, no, that seemed too much to hope for. Instead, his brow furrowed and a grimace came to his face. He seemed to be struggling against something as he tossed his head as if to deny something. His lips moved, but I could not hear the words. Aragorn leaned closer, hoping to gain some insight as to why Faramir would not awake. He listened for a few moments, until I could no longer remain silent.
"Of what does he speak, my Lord?" I asked.
"Many things, Eomer. Some truth, some lies. He is being tormented in both heart and soul. Some of what he says, I can understand, and hopefully convince him are untrue. He speaks of his brother and father, says that there will be no King, despairs that the world of Men will fall. But one thing…" Aragorn paused, as if unsure. "There is one thing, which seems to lay most heavily upon him, that I am not sure is truth or lie. He says it again and again, 'The one I love is dead.' I do not know the one he loves, so I do not know the truth of it. Another thing he says worries me greatly. He says that he is nothing in the dark." He paused for a moment, as if thinking. "Do you know this love of whom he speaks?"
Surely Faramir could not mean me. I was standing there, not dead. Perhaps he kept that long-ago promise. I answered Aragorn as honestly as I could. "No, my Lord. I have only met Faramir once, many years ago it seems."
"My Lord!"
We both turned to face the doorway as one of the healers burst into the room. "Please, my Lord. The halfling…he is fading. I fear he will not last much longer. You must come quickly!"
Aragorn looked first at Faramir and then at me. "Would he remember you, Eomer?" At my nod, he stood and came to stand before me, speaking softly. "I cannot linger here. Faramir is no longer in immediate danger. Yes, he still lingers in darkness, but he will not fade to darkness just yet so there is still time. I must go see to Merry. Go to Faramir, call to him. Tell him what you must. If he speaks, answer him, convince him of what is the truth."
As he began to move toward the door, I suddenly became overwhelmed. "Aragorn, I am no healer!"
He moved back to me again, placing a hand on my shoulder. "There is no time for explanations, Eomer, so I will say only this: The hands of the king are the hands of a healer. It is an old saying in this realm. I do not know for certain if this means only the King of this realm or of any King within these walls. But my heart tells me that there is something within you…something that you do not yet know of. My heart tells me that you are the one to finish this task."
He squeezed my shoulder, silently giving what confidence he could before he turned and hurried from the room.
I looked at Faramir, still tossing his head and speaking so softly that I could not hear. I wondered for a moment if perhaps Aragorn could possibly be wrong, but as I saw the anguish on Faramir's face, memories of that one night came flooding back to me. I thought at last, "How can I not at least try?"
TBC
Author: Rainien (Rainien@hotmail.com)
Pairings: Eomer/Faramir
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them from The Professor.
Summary: They say the hands of a King are the hands of a healer. Will Eomer be able to save the one he thought he'd left behind?
Warnings: None, this chapter
Feedback: Please?
Website: http://www.geocities.com/rainien1
Author's Notes:
This began as a challenge from my dear friend Valkyrie. It will eventually incorporate song lyrics, which will be from Evanescence's "Bring Me to Life."
Please take note of Ioreth's use of the word "kings" in the following passage. "Kings" - plural, as in more than one king. I always wondered if this was some sort of (gasp!) mistake on Tolkien's part as surely more than one King could not rule one kingdom. Perhaps it could be interpreted in a different way.
"Then an old wife, Ioreth, the eldest of the women who served in that house, looking on the fair face of Faramir, wept, for all the people loved him. And she said: 'Alas! if he should die. Would that there were kings in Gondor, as there were once upon a time, they say! For it is said in the old lore: The hands of the king are the hands of a healer. And so the rightful king should ever be known.'" ROTK 150
Chapter 1 - I am nothing in the dark.
Faramir's POV
Cold. So very cold. I could not remember ever being this cold, this numb. Even my heart was beginning to feel numb. I was going to die. I could feel it. The voice from the dark had been telling me, for what seemed like days, that I would die. The voice, and I knew then that this voice belonged to one of the Nazgul, had been telling me horrible things. Horrible, but I knew they were true.
Boromir was dead. My brother, the one who had stood by me all my life, was no more.
Father hated me, would never forgive me for living while Boromir was dead.
The White City would fall.
There would be no King.
The world of Men would be no more.
The one I loved was dead.
I was nothing in the dark.
I was going to die.
Eomer's POV
He would not die. Aragorn would not allow it. It seemed only yesterday that he sprang from the grass on the fields of Rohan, bringing hope where there was none. Now he said that Faramir could be brought back from the darkness that was consuming him. I believed him, because to give up hope now would be to give up on the one that I love. Faramir would not die.
A boy brought in the only athelas leaves that could be found. Only six leaves, but Aragorn said it would be enough. I watched as he gently breathed on two of the leaves then crushed them and dropped them into the water that was heated and brought. It seemed suddenly that the world was made new again, and I breathed deeply of air that seemed to have sprung newborn into the room. I looked wonderingly at Aragorn and he smiled, seeming refreshed himself, "Even dry and not freshly picked, athelas has a powerful effect. Do you see now, Eomer? Even surrounded by darkness, Faramir will be greatly helped."
I watched as Aragorn leaned close to Faramir, gently stroking an athelas-soaked cloth across his face, calling softly to him, "Son of Gondor, awake! Your foe is defeated and a new day will soon dawn. Come now and greet it!"
Almost immediately, Faramir seemed to breathe more deeply and I began to believe that his eyes would soon open. But, no, that seemed too much to hope for. Instead, his brow furrowed and a grimace came to his face. He seemed to be struggling against something as he tossed his head as if to deny something. His lips moved, but I could not hear the words. Aragorn leaned closer, hoping to gain some insight as to why Faramir would not awake. He listened for a few moments, until I could no longer remain silent.
"Of what does he speak, my Lord?" I asked.
"Many things, Eomer. Some truth, some lies. He is being tormented in both heart and soul. Some of what he says, I can understand, and hopefully convince him are untrue. He speaks of his brother and father, says that there will be no King, despairs that the world of Men will fall. But one thing…" Aragorn paused, as if unsure. "There is one thing, which seems to lay most heavily upon him, that I am not sure is truth or lie. He says it again and again, 'The one I love is dead.' I do not know the one he loves, so I do not know the truth of it. Another thing he says worries me greatly. He says that he is nothing in the dark." He paused for a moment, as if thinking. "Do you know this love of whom he speaks?"
Surely Faramir could not mean me. I was standing there, not dead. Perhaps he kept that long-ago promise. I answered Aragorn as honestly as I could. "No, my Lord. I have only met Faramir once, many years ago it seems."
"My Lord!"
We both turned to face the doorway as one of the healers burst into the room. "Please, my Lord. The halfling…he is fading. I fear he will not last much longer. You must come quickly!"
Aragorn looked first at Faramir and then at me. "Would he remember you, Eomer?" At my nod, he stood and came to stand before me, speaking softly. "I cannot linger here. Faramir is no longer in immediate danger. Yes, he still lingers in darkness, but he will not fade to darkness just yet so there is still time. I must go see to Merry. Go to Faramir, call to him. Tell him what you must. If he speaks, answer him, convince him of what is the truth."
As he began to move toward the door, I suddenly became overwhelmed. "Aragorn, I am no healer!"
He moved back to me again, placing a hand on my shoulder. "There is no time for explanations, Eomer, so I will say only this: The hands of the king are the hands of a healer. It is an old saying in this realm. I do not know for certain if this means only the King of this realm or of any King within these walls. But my heart tells me that there is something within you…something that you do not yet know of. My heart tells me that you are the one to finish this task."
He squeezed my shoulder, silently giving what confidence he could before he turned and hurried from the room.
I looked at Faramir, still tossing his head and speaking so softly that I could not hear. I wondered for a moment if perhaps Aragorn could possibly be wrong, but as I saw the anguish on Faramir's face, memories of that one night came flooding back to me. I thought at last, "How can I not at least try?"
TBC