These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.

"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man should lay down his life for his friends." The Bible: John, 15.13

With grateful thanks to Raksha for her help with revising this chapter.

Warning this chapter contains torture .Please do not read if you are likely to be distressed

Faramir had a dark vision of Aragorn sprawled across a bed. The King's naked flesh was bloodied and torn. The Steward was standing helplessly by the bedside, his sight veiled by tears. The vision could not have lasted more than a few seconds, but its clarity left Faramir feeling faint and dizzy.

He would have fallen from the log, had not the King caught him.

"What is the matter?" Aragorn enquired, his voice full of concern. "Are you unwell?" He placed a comforting arm round Faramir's shoulders and steadied him.

Faramir tried to compose himself, and wiped the sweat from his brow. "I will be well in a moment, sire," he said. "I sometimes experience visions. One came upon me just now."

Aragorn nodded sympathetically. Many of our people are gifted, or sometimes cursed with them. What did you see?"

Faramir hesitated, wondering what he should say. He decided he should warn Aragorn. "I saw a vision of you, my lord, lying on a bed, badly injured. I know not when or how, but I beg you to be careful."

Aragorn forced himself to smile reassuringly at his troubled Steward. "I will do my best, but you could be seeing the aftermath of a battle far into the distant future."

"I do not know," Faramir still sounded troubled. "When I last foresaw danger for you, I was wrong, praise the Valar!"

"When was that?" Aragorn enquired. "Your visions that I know of have come true. You foresaw my coming and that the White Tree would bloom."

"It was when you tended me before you rode out to Mordor. I had a vision of you badly wounded, maybe dying, with your friends weeping by your side." Faramir said.

Aragorn felt his blood run cold. "Your far-sight did not lie, Faramir. I was indeed badly wounded then, and lived only by the grace of the Valar. I decided that it was best that few knew about it, as we needed to keep up the spirits of the men. Then afterwards, I did not speak of it to spare the feelings of the Hobbits. That time was hard enough for them."

Faramir shuddered, lost for words. Aragorn patted his arm reassuringly. "We cannot prevent such visions and just have to interpret them as best we may," he said. "Are you able to stand up now?"

The Steward nodded. His head had stopped spinning, but the fearful images lingered in his mind. Still feeling slightly dazed, Faramir permitted Aragorn to help him to his feet.

"Are you able to mount your horse?" Aragorn asked.

"Yes, thank you, sire, I am quite recovered now," Faramir replied, feeling somewhat foolish. He swung himself into the saddle, amazed at how much less painful his shoulder was now.

They rode on through the forest until they reached the outskirts of a small settlement. It comprised of a handful of dilapidated huts, of the kind used by charcoal burners. An old woman was sitting outside a hut watching them intently. She called as they made to ride past, "Well, I never did, if it isn't the King and the Steward! Greetings, my lords!"

Aragorn and Faramir felt it was only courteous to respond to her salutations. They brought their horses to a halt and dismounted. The old woman dropped a deep curtsey. "Arise, good lady!" Aragorn said, smiling at her kindly. "How did you know who we were?"

"I watched your coronation with my family." she replied. "You must be thirsty after your ride, my lords. Will you do me the great honour of tasting my home made wine?"

Aragorn hesitated, if past experiences were anything to go by, the wine would probably taste worst than vinegar. However, as King, he had a duty to respect his subjects' feelings. After all, wine, unlike water, did not carry the risk of coming from a contaminated well. There could be no harm in tasting it to please the old lady. He took the proffered goblet, thinking as he did so, that it was fine workmanship for a poor woman to own, no doubt a family heirloom. He gestured to Faramir to do likewise. Apart from having a slightly bitter flavour, the wine tasted better than expected. They drained their goblets thirstily before returning them to the old woman. After thanking her they remounted and rode away.

Something compelled Aragorn to glance back. The crone was still staring after them, a strange expression on her face. "That old woman unnerves me," he remarked.

"I suppose she might act strangely as has never spoken to a King before," Faramir replied, urging his horse forward.

They rode on for about a mile or so before Faramir started to feel unwell. His head was spinning and his vision was becoming blurred "I think I need to dismount," he told Aragorn, dismayed at showing yet another sign of weakness.

"The trouble with drinking wine is that nature always calls soon afterwards," Aragorn said wryly. "I think we had better dismount." They had fortunately reached a clearing surrounded by trees. Faramir half slid, half fell from his horse. He tottered behind the nearest tree where he was violently sick. He stole a furtive glance at the King and was alarmed to notice he seemed unwell too. They stumbled back into the clearing.

"I will have to sit down," Faramir mumbled, sinking to the ground. Everything seemed to be spinning alarmingly.

Aragorn strove to collect his befuddled wits. "The wine must have been drugged!" he exclaimed. "We must get away from here! We should have brought weapons." He tried to remount Roheryn but his legs refused to obey him.

"Can't keep my eyes open!" Faramir murmured sleepily. Aragorn tried to go to his aid but could only take a few unsteady steps before he sank unconscious at his Steward's side.

000

Aragorn had no idea how much time passed before he regained his senses. At first, he thought he must have fallen asleep on the grass. He wondered why his mouth was so dry, and his head pounding. He tried to get up, only to find to his furious dismay that his hands and feet were bound securely. A groan alerted him to Faramir's presence at his side. He could smell the smoke from a nearby fire.

Before he could fully gather his wits, a rough voice said with mock courtesy: "Let me introduce myself to my Lord Elessar and my Lord Steward. I am Fennas and this is my brother in law Calardan. We were waiting for you to wake up, as we didn't want you to miss any of our surprise!"

"I have not had the dubious pleasure of making your acquaintance before!" Aragorn snapped, wishing his voice sounded less hoarse. "Now let us go immediately, then maybe I will not deal with you too harshly!"

"I remember, you, Fennas, why are you doing this?" Faramir's voice, sounding equally husky broke in.

Fennas laughed. It was an ugly sound devoid of mirth. "You should already know the answer to that, Faramir. For forty years, my father served as Porter to your father, only to be slain to save you, the worthless whelp of a great man!"

"I grieved for your loss, but I cannot be held responsible for it" Faramir said with dignity. "Your quarrel, if there be one, lies with me, so release the King at once!"

Calardan spoke for the first time. He was taller than Fennas and carried a bow on his back. "You both have a lot to answer for!" he growled. "I was married to Fennas' sister and a right fair woman she was too, and about to have our first child when the Black Breath came upon her. She lingered for days growing weaker by the hour. I lost all hope. Then, I heard tidings that the King had come and had the power to heal her malady. I went off to find you, my lord, but you were far too busy with that useless weakling there, and your other fine friends, to save my poor wife and our babe! She was the daughter of that poor old woman who gave you the wine just now. He brushed away a tear with a dirty sleeve.

Aragorn looked at him with genuine compassion. "I would gladly have helped your wife had I but known," he said. "I feel for your losses and will pardon your behaviour if you release us at once!"

Fennas gave an evil grin as he opened a bag, which had been lying on the grass. Several knives and a horse whip fell out on to the grass.

"You and your precious Steward won't escape that easily, Elessar," he said. "I intend to teach you both a lesson to avenge my poor father and sister. Maybe, if I feel generous, I will let one of you live, if you can entertain me well enough!"

Aragorn repressed a shudder as he glanced at Faramir's white face. They were obviously dealing with madmen intent on killing them in the most unpleasant ways that they could devise. He frantically struggled to free himself. A well-aimed kick from Calardan bent him double with agony. Aragorn bit his lip to suppress a cry.

Meanwhile Fennas had roughly pulled Faramir up on his knees, and held him still while Calardan seized a knife and slit the Steward's tunic and shirt down the back. "It seems only fitting that we should use my wife's kitchen knives to avenge her," Calardan said with a fond grin, stroking the hilt. "She was so proud of them, they were part of my bridal gift and I spared no expense. " That's good steel!"

"We should have stripped them before they woke up." Fennas grumbled. "These are fine clothes, worth several months' wages to the likes of us!"

"It's too late to grumble about that, now, we'll just have to cut their clothes off." Calardan retorted. "We should have secured their horses too before they wandered off."

Aragorn and Faramir struggled to remain impassive. Their predicament grew worse by the minute. They were bound and helpless with no prospect of rescue. Aragorn silently cursed his own foolishness for allowing them to fall into this trap. If only they had refused the wine! Yet, it had seemed but a small courtesy to accept a drink from an apparently loyal subject.

Fennas picked up the horsewhip; it was a cruel version with lead-weighted thongs. Aragorn had banned the use of that type, hating to see horses mistreated. Smiling at his victims, Fennas lifted the whip above his head and then cracked it down upon Faramir's unprotected back. The Steward tried to crawl away from the source of the blows, but was bound too tightly to evade their strike.

Aragorn blinked, wishing he could close his eyes. He remembered how he had vowed never to let Faramir be ill treated again. The whip fell again and again. Silent tears of pain ran down Faramir's cheeks, but the Steward made no sound.

"Leave him be!" Aragorn cried in his most commanding tone. "He has never harmed you nor even wished you ill!"

Fennas lowered the whip, and then dragged Faramir to his feet with Calardan's help. They shoved the Steward against the nearest tree and secured another rope round his feet. He then pulled Faramir upright and yanked his arms over his head and secured them to the birch tree.

Aragorn was dragged to his knees and he felt the cold steel against his flesh as his clothing was slit and his back was bared.

"Always delighted to oblige you, Lord Elessar." Fennas mocked. "We can always beat you instead of your weakling Steward!" He flexed his muscular arms and raised the whip.

The lash tore brutally into Aragorn's flesh, over and over again. He bit back his cries of pain, determined not to give them that satisfaction. He felt his warm lifeblood oozing from the wounds.

Faramir could only watch in horror, as his King was brutally beaten. His own back throbbed painfully, but seeing Aragorn suffer was a far crueller torment. He wondered why ever had the King taken his place as the victim. "Release him! I am the cause of your anger!" Faramir cried. "Beat me instead!"

Faramir's self sacrifice touched Aragorn deeply. The younger man's nobility made him all the more determined to endure his pain stoically.

"Why are you letting us beat you, Elessar? You have only to say the word and we beat him instead!" Calardan offered, from where he stood gleefully watching.

Aragorn gritted his teeth and said nothing. Faramir had already known too much pain in his life. If he could protect him, he intended to, whatever the cost. He had little hope that either of them would emerge from the ordeal alive to see their wives again, but maybe if they vented their wrath on him, they would at least grant his Stewart a quick and painless death.

"Enough!" Calardan cried after what seemed an eternity. "We don't want them to die too quickly!"

The two men roughly dragged Aragorn to his feet and rammed him against a nearby ash tree, securing his ankles and then tying his hands above his head, painfully jarring his bleeding shoulders. The rough bark scraped the open wounds on his back. Aragorn was no longer able to prevent himself crying out in agony.

Fennas and Calardan roared with laughter. "So King Elessar knows how to scream then!" they guffawed. "We thought he was struck dumb!"

Fennas picked up a fallen branch and thwacked the Steward with it several times. Growing bored with the lack of response, he then picked up a knife and cut into Faramir's arm.

"Leave him be!" Aragorn gasped, as Faramir finally cried out. "This man has suffered enough!"

Fennas grinned, "As you command, Lord King!" he said. He approached Aragorn and slit what remained of his tunic down the front and then cut his the cloth of his breeches from the waistband, exposing the vulnerable flesh of his belly.

Calardan approached with a strange looking knife, which Faramir recognised as an Orc blade. "No!" the Steward shouted, trying vainly to break his bonds.

"Make sure they suffer as much as those we loved did!" Fennas cried.

The knife cut into Aragorn's chest with a searing pain. He cried out in agony. Calardan cut in methodical strokes down his ribs, and across his belly with an occasional slash at his legs. Aragorn said nothing, biting his tongue to keep himself from crying out. To think that his life should be snuffed out like this just as he had achieved the birthright and the wife he had yearned for over so many long years!

"No! You cursed traitors, no more!" Faramir vainly ordered.

Calardan stepped back as if to survey his handiwork.

Hardly able to endure the horror of seeing his King, the kindly lord who had healed and comforted him and renewed his beloved land being savagely tortured, Faramir could have wept. Not even an Orc deserved to suffer such torment! He closed his eyes to avoid seeing the King's bruised and bleeding body.

"You are going to watch, or we can do something more entertaining!" Fennas' harsh voice bellowed in Faramir's ear. The man was hovering like a hawk, enjoying his anguish. "We might blind you, or relieve you both of your manhood!"

Faramir forced his eyes open again. Their main quarrel was with him, why must they hurt Aragorn so?

Powerless to intervene, Faramir could only watch in horror. He now realised how wrong he had been to fear Aragorn and fear the King would treat him as his father had done. If only he had understood Aragorn! They could have been friends. Now it was too late.

"It's time I used my bow again," Calardan said in a casual tone. "I rarely have such good targets to shoot at, sitting ducks you might call them! Which one shall we shoot first?"

"I would enjoy seeing the expression on my Lord Steward's face when we shoot the usurper!" Fennas chortled.

Aragorn bowed his head and sent a silent prayer to the Valar to protect his loved ones and watch over Arwen and their child. He had hoped and dreamed of so much and now his life would end for nothing at the hands of deranged ruffians.

"Let the King go!" Faramir demanded.

"Release...my...Steward!" Aragorn said slowly, summoning all the authority he could command. "You have had your revenge and wounded me almost to the death already, but you could still show mercy and spare him."

"Maybe I will and maybe I won't." Fennas replied. "You will not live to find out, Elessar! Your line has ended; very fitting, since you killed all my kin."

Aragorn managed a smile as Calardan nocked an arrow in his bow. His killer was wrong. The line of Elendil would not end here, for Arwen carried their child! He hoped she would tell them how much he had loved them both.

The arrow flew free and pierced him. Aragorn knew no more.

Faramir allowed himself to close his eyes. There was no more to see, since hope was gone. The arrow might have missed Aragorn's heart, but no one could continue to endure such butchery and still live. A feeling of total emptiness and desolation cut through Faramir's very soul. Ever since he could remember, he had yearned for the King to return, and when Aragorn had come, he was everything he had dreamed of and more. Now his King, his lord, was dying and with him the hopes of Middle - earth. Faramir no longer cared about his own peril.

"Cowards!" He screamed. "'Tis a paltry vengeance to kill a bound and helpless man! Your lost ones would despise you if they could see you now! You are not avengers; you are accursed traitors!"

Calardan raised his bow.

"We would have spared you, as our Steward's only living son; but you will eat those words and beg for mercy!" Fennas jeered. "Stay the arrow, brother, that is too quick a death for him!" The two men held a whispered conversation. They laughed and gestured towards their knives

Faramir could only await his fate. His heart seethed with grief and rage. Now he would never have the chance to fully experience the joys of wedlock, never know what it felt like to hold his own child and never know the King as a friend rather than simply a liege lord. He had had so much to live for, but was doomed to die despairing.

TBC