It was even harder now to avoid the Lord Faramir, for Merry was scarcely seen without him, and Dernhelm had not the heart to ignore the Hobbit.
Winter came back with icy teeth, and Dernhelm was glad to have a good coat.
Merry, on the other hand, often shivered.
"You are cold", the Lord Faramir noted as they walked on the walls, where there was an icy wind.
"It's nothing compared to Caradhras", Merry replied. "Though come to think of it, I was miserable then. And the Black Breath seems to ... to linger."
"Take my coat." Without waiting for an answer, Faramir took it off and held it out.
"Oh! That's very nice of you, but ... won't you be cold?" Merry asked, even as he stepped closer to allow Faramir to drape the garment around his shoulders, folding it so it would not drag on the floor.
"I do not freeze easily." They stood there for a while, looking to the east where the host was a cloud of dust in the distance.
Dernhelm noticed a noise. Moreover, a noise that seemed to come from Faramir. It sounded very much like the chattering of teeth. Weakling.
"Here, take my coat."
Faramir froze, which enabled Dernhelm to put the cloak around his shoulders and fasten the clasp. His fingers brushed the clammy skin of Faramir's throat as he did so.
"Thank you. You are right, it is rather too cold to dwell here", Faramir said after a while. "Let us venture back inside, it should be about time for lunch, anyway."
"My stomach agrees", Merry replied, and set about to walk down the stairs, holding the cloak up in front to not stumble over it.
The next day, Dernhelm could not find Merry anywhere, and, at last, was informed that the Hobbit was in bed with a cold.
So he went to the gardens, where strangely enough, there was no sign of Faramir. Well. It was not as though Dernhelm needed anyone to keep him company.
He went up to the walls and gazed east.
When his face was cold and his hands freezing, he turned to venture back inside, and to his surprise found Faramir standing nearby.
The Steward bowed when Dernhelm passed him. "Merry says to send his regards. He is abed with a bad cold; but is confident that he will recover soon."
"Thank you."
"You are welcome." He turned to leave.
"What is your favourite weapon?", Dernhelm asked on an impulse.
"The bow. Yours?"
A coward's weapon, no wonder. "The sword. Why would you prefer the bow?"
Faramir turned once more, facing Dernhelm. "Many reasons. A new one is easily fashioned from the materials available. It is not only a weapon of war, but also of hunting. And, related to that ..." A little, half-smile appeared on his face. "It is easier to train with a bow, and one does not risk hurting a sparring partner."
"Any sparring partner worth his salt will not allow you to hurt him. And if he gets some bruises, not complain."
"I can see why you would think so." He stepped towards the battlements, placed an arm on the stone and looked at the land stretching out below. "Yet in Gondor, we do not measure someone's worth only in his ability to win a fight. And the life of a friend is valuable to me, whether or not he failed to block an attack of mine."
"And I said nothing of someone's worth in general. Just ... his worth as a sparring partner. You need to pick someone who matches your skill."
"And I do, for a war cannot be won with the bow alone. Yet you asked my favourite weapon, and it is the bow." His hair danced in the chilly wind, like raven's wings under the dark sky.
He must be cold, with his neck not covered by the cloak, as he wore the hood pushed back.
"You did not ask why I favour the sword."
"I need not. It seems a reasonable compromise between the desire to rip the enemy's throat open with your teeth, or their head off with your bare hands, and the need to avoid infection with their diseases. Or, perhaps, to not have to use a toothpick after each fight."
Dernhelm chuckled. "And, of course, armour would blunt my teeth."
"There is that."
The chilly wind drew all warmth from Dernhelm's face, and his lips felt numb, yet he could not make himself leave. There was something, something important ...
"Have I thanked you for giving me your brother's cloak?"
"I cannot recall. It matters not, you would have done the same for me."
Suddenly, the sense of foreboding grew stronger, and there was a commotion in the east. Motionless, they both gazed at what was happening. There was no doubt in Dernhelm's heart that this was the end.
Faramir agreed that this was the most likely outcome, but said that his heart was filled with hope. He also spoke of having won something he did not want to lose, yet what this was, he did not say, and Dernhelm did not probe. If Faramir wanted him to know, he would say it plainly.