Did you remember to....
It was the last thing he heard as the cold dark closed over his head and the
swirling water embraced him and tried to carry him away in its arms, making
his body part of the eddy and flow of the river.
Fighting for breath, he struggled to right himself, finding no bottom, no purchase.
He was not given to panic, usually keeping a calm heart and a cool head in times
of danger but someone had forgotten to tell his lungs, and they screamed
and felt like they would burst.
And then his brother's voice, his brother's hands supporting him,
sunlight and air. Did you remember to breathe? the voice teased,
laughing to cover its own moment of anxiety.
Don't be so smug, Faramir, he sputtered miserably, shaking
water out of his eyes and nose, I didn't have time to remember anything.
The older boy was just turned sixteen and liked to think of himself as a man.
He had been taking the opportunity to lord it over the younger as he sat proudly
on his birthday present, a frisky grey gelding the same steely color as their
eyes. A very noble picture he made, too - until the ill-timed and unlucky bee
sting that sent Fanya bucking forward, tumbling him into the bend of the river
where his little brother had been happily - and idly - paddling about in the
water.
A long quick dive brought Faramir to his brother's aid, and he grasped
the strong shoulders and pushed for the surface. They floundered together the
few strokes it took for them to be able to stand. Measuring the short distance
with his eyes only embarrassed the older again.
The younger was eleven, still a colt, all long leg and arm. He admired the strength
that rippled over his brother's frame, wanted badly to match it, but even
with daily sword practice he still felt that it would never come. He was learning
instead to look for his own skills, the things that made him feel a glow of
secret pride. Swimming and the bow were two things he could excel at even if
he never muscled up like Boromir.
They stood laughing, holding each other's shoulders, shaking their long
wet hair back from their faces.
I'm sorry it took me so long to come to your aid. I had forgotten
you can't swim. There was still a part of Faramir that believed his
brother could do anything.
The older growled to cover his humiliation. When would I have time to
learn such a frivolous pleasure? Swimming is not a soldier's skill.
It is in Dol Amroth! laughed Faramir, who was newly returned from
a stay with his uncle. It will be in Ithilien, I am sure! It would have
helped you today, Boromir. He looked at his older brother with barely
concealed concern. You should put down your sword sometimes – you
are too single-minded!
Boromir nearly slipped from his brother's grip on the slick
river stones as he startled at the comment. You are the one who always
has his nose in a book!
Maybe... but I read about many different things. I feel like the whole
world comes pouring off the page into my dreams. I will never be tired of wanting
to know.
He shook his dark head. There is more to life than war, brother. And more
to you than the sword. They looked at each other for a moment, seeing
as only brothers can see, into each other's hearts. Then they grinned and
slapped each other's arms companionably.
Come on, said Boromir, I am freezing. Fanya has my cloak,
that should be dry. They slipped an arm around each other's shoulders
and supported each other up the slippery bank as they, unthinking, did in all
things.
the older asked quietly as he stripped off his wet clothes,
would you have time to teach me to swim? It seems like a useful skill.
If you can make the time, I would be happy to.
***
It was the last thing he heard as the cold dark closed over his head and the
swirling water embraced him and tried to carry him away in its arms, making
his body part of the eddy and flow of the river.
He struck out for the surface, his strong arms knowing with unconscious grace
how to handle the dance and battle that was water unbound. He was a fine strong
swimmer, but tonight he would need all his skill.
As he shook the water from his streaming eyes, he tried to orient himself in
the dark pools of the night river. Debris from the bridge bobbed along with
him, or jutted dangerously out of the water, or hid treacherously below the
oily gleam. On the eastern shore, he could see the many small fires that consumed
the city that had once been Gondor's jewel, the citadel of the stars.
He looked around in panic, and felt two strong hands take his shoulders from
behind. Did you remember to breathe? his brother's voice coughed
next to his ear.
Of course I did, Faramir, he sputtered, watching his brother's
raven hair float on the inky water. Swimming is a soldier's skill.
They slipped an arm around each other's shoulders, and supported each other
up the bank, as they did in all things.
***
The March nights were still cold and, though wounded, Ithilien reached with
longing for spring.
The captain was all but invisible in the gloom, his dark-dappled cloak a pattern
of moonlight through leaves, his dark hair a shadow in the gathering of shadows
that haunted this place. He might have been a tumbled pile of stones that vaguely
resembled a man. Only his eyes, silvered in the grey dark, spoke of his presence
- and even they seemed a reflection of stars on dark swirling water. He scanned
the great river for any sign of movement, any hint of danger. He perched and
waited, restless, the Raven of Ithilien, feeling that he was watching for death.
Lately his dreams left him wakeful, mind racing, thinking it best not to waste
a precious second he might regret tomorrow. Instead of sleeping he would walk
among his men, study their faces, and try to remember how to breathe - tasting
every breath, in and out. Sleep might come all too soon.
He had been watching the full moon dance on the black water for some time before
he remembered there should be only a pale gleam tonight. Something flickered
like foxfire in the stream. He stepped through the reeds and waded into the
swirling current, mesmerized, powerless, yet unable to feel alarmed.
It proved to be a sleek grey boat with a prow that reared like the neck of a
stallion as it turned and came toward him. Inside, it was full of clear bright
water, brighter than moonlight, yet casting no light into the surrounding dark.
In the boat lay the Blade of Gondor, and he was broken.
Faramir's heart hammered at the sight. He raised his hand to touch the
familiar face, but was unable to defy the unearthly light. Among the wounds,
above his brother's heart he could see the rent where an arrow had delivered
its deadly sting.
he whispered. I heard your call. Did you fall so
close – so close to home? One long dive and I might have reached you.
A great sadness stretched its hand toward the captain's heart; he felt
the touch of the icy fingers, but to his surprise it did not clench its cruel
fist. He understood that Boromir was dead, yet looking into the light he was
drawn to the peace and beauty that transfigured the warrior's face. His
brother smiled as though his closed eyes focused now only upon the stars.
There had been a time when his hands had the power to pull his brother back
from Anduin's grasp. She had released him for only a little while - yet
it had been time enough for his brother to learn to be at ease in the water.
Boromir no longer needed his aid.
His brother, who he had feared would live his life only for war, had somehow
found peace. Now he had come to share the knowledge of his final gift.
Too soon, the river called again for what was hers, and the little boat moved
back into the current of the stream. The cold brightness closed over his brother
and embraced him, held him in the silver circle of its arms, making his body
part of the eddy and flow of the river.
Faramir watched the light as it was swallowed up by distance and darkness, leaving
him once more a shadow in the gloom, hoping that peace was a gift he would someday
share.
Don't forget to breathe, he whispered.
As his brother slipped away, he turned and scrambled up the bank, grasping at
reeds to support himself.
*******
Author's note:
The first part of Breathe was written for a challenge at Henneth Annun.The parameters
of the challenge were to write a vignette about Boromir, Faramir and swimming
lessons. I was the only one who went in this direction...
I didn't want to disturb the symmetry of Breathe as a vignette – I like the moment of strength and the completed feel of the words - but I cannot think of these brothers meeting in the Anduin without also thinking of the last time it occurred . I decided to offer it here for those of you looking for the closing of the circle. Available, yet slightly outside
It is my first piece of fiction in prose.Please let me know if it works.
-- gaudete --