Dernhelm shoved the parchment back into its hiding place, where it now didn't sit as smoothly anymore.
And not a moment too early. He had only just put the book back where it rested on his lap, when Merry came round the corner.
"Hullo! You've been looking for me?"
Faramir turned to greet him with a bow. "How are you? Were the books I sent you to your liking?"
"I liked them all a great deal, but they're just books, not people to talk to. And you gave Dernhelm the only one you've written in."
"Forgive me. I did not think you would prefer my scribbling to the writings of much more learned women and men."
"Oh, don't worry about that. I borrowed the book on herb-lore as soon as I got the chance, of course. You know, I'm not a scholar like Frodo, I prefer the company of living people. Reading your scribblings, as you like to call it, is much more like reading a letter, if you get what I mean."
"You have also sent Merry books, Lord Faramir?" Dernhelm inquired. Why had Merry not told him?
"Oh! I didn't think you'd want to borrow them!" Merry blushed. "They were just books on cooking, and I figured you wouldn't be interested in them."
Dernhelm rose, placing the book on warfare in the sling his shield-arm was in. "You read books on cooking for entertainment?"
"Sure! It's fascinating, how different everything is to what I know from the Shire! And of course, some meals are the same, but aren't called the same. Especially with mushrooms. They have lots of different names." Merry looked up at Dernhelm. "You aren't cross with me that I didn't offer to lend them to you, are you?"
"Of course not. You were right, they wouldn't have been interesting to me."
Soon, Faramir and Merry were engaged in a conversation on cooking, and Dernhelm watched them silently.
The Steward was a handsome man, yet his mien was too earnest, his bearing too formal – it just did not fit with what he had just revealed, that he had written this tale of a young archer who was ... ravished by a shieldmaiden.
He had been very young then ... could he have changed so much?
Though he had blushed most becomingly when confronted with Dernhelm's discovery of his writings.
One must have extensive knowledge of the ways that men could pleasure each other to have written this piece, too ... to think that under this cool and controlled surface there was a man who ...
"Lord Dernhelm?"
He gave a start. "Yes?"
"You seem deep in thought. I had asked how you liked the book on herb-lore. It is not in your usual range of interests, but since I had so few books suited to your tastes, I thought that perhaps ..."
"I liked it very much. Thank you for taking the time to send it to me – and the other books."
Faramir waved his hand dismissively. "Think nothing of it. I know how boring it is to be confined to the Houses of Healing."
"And yet your newly acquired freedom does not speed your recovery."
"What makes you think so?"
"You don't look well", Merry pointed out, sparing Dernhelm the answer. "And you try to sound more cheerful than you really are."
Faramir did not answer immediately. "That may be so", he said at last. "Those are bleak times, and it helps not to wallow in misery. It behooves a Steward to set a good example for his people. Not many are as perceptive as you are, my friend."
"Bleak times? People are celebrating!" Dernhelm cried.
"Victory has come at a price." The Steward's face was now a mask, devoid of all emotion.
"Oh! I'm sure Dernhelm didn't mean that you oughtn't be sad!" Merry hastened to say. "Just ... just we're your friends and we are worried for you!"
"And I appreciate your kindness. You need not fear that I work too much; there will soon be celebrations, and I will be expected to attend them. There will be much time to sit idle."
"Sit? If they know how to celebrate here, then I should think you will be out of breath with dancing! If you want to dance, that is, but I have a feeling that you won't, and that it will be all the more strenuous to pretend to be happy."
"In that you are right. Yet it cannot be avoided, lest people attribute my sour face to the return of the King, and think I hold a grudge against the man who saved my life."
Merry huffed. "If they do that, they're stupid."
"People tend to be."
Dernhelm cleared his throat. "Faramir, I ... I did not mean ... I was just worried." He placed a hand on Faramir's arm. "You seem more sombre than you did days ago, when the future was uncertain."
"Maybe my heart was lighter when it seemed there would be an end to ... to all pain."
Merry was the first to speak after a shocked silence. "You scare me! Please, you must go see a healer. This is not ... not ... "
"I shall. Immediately, for I can ill afford to lose more time if I am to take your advice and rest more." He knelt, grasping Merry's shoulders. "I am sorry to leave again so soon, and will make sure to send you a letter soon." He hugged the Hobbit. "Goodbye, for now."
He then stood and turned to Dernhelm. "Lord Dernhelm, maybe our paths will not cross again ere you return to Rohan. Farewell."
Dernhelm extended a hand, but Faramir stepped back and bowed. "I hope that there will be good news for you", he said. "The messengers should soon arrive. Goodbye."
And he turned and walked away.
Merry stared after him. "Huh. That was fast. I hope he really goes to see a healer."
"Yes ..." Dernhelm shook his head. "Have I angered him in some way?"
"No, he didn't seem angry."
"Why then be so curt in his leave-taking?"
"You hurt him." Merry frowned. "You can be a bit blunt at times." He fell silent, and Dernhelm didn't have much to say either.
"You know, now that I think about it ..." Merry scratched his curly head.
Dernhelm tapped his foot. "Now that you think about it, what?"
"Oh, it is probably nothing, but when he talked to me, that day before he took up his duties as Steward, he was all Lord Dernhelm here, Lord Dernhelm there."
Dernhelm felt a surge of joy. Lord Dernhelm. Now, that sounded way better than 'Lady Éowyn'. That Faramir would speak thus even with Dernhelm absent ...
"Only, you call him Faramir, so ...?"
It took Dernhelm a moment to understand what Merry meant. "You think I offended him? By not adressing him with his title?"
"Well, no, I just –"
He fell silent when they both saw one of the healers approach. "Lady Éowyn!"
Dernhelm flinched at the hated words.
"Hullo Ioreth!" Merry smiled. "Can we help you?"
"I hope so. You have spent much time with the Lord Faramir, have you not?"
"What happened?" Merry cried. "Is he ...?"
"In danger? No, fear not. It is just that he was recovering so well, and now, suddenly, this steep decline. I tought you might know of something that might have agitated him, and that he himself does not remember, or deems not significant."
With a guilty conscience, Dernhelm remembered the parchment hidden in the book that he carried in his sling. Certainly, Faramir would not want that revealed, even to a healer.
"Well, one of us might have said something insensitive about people celebrating in the streets, you know, and he has lost his whole family ..." Merry shook his head. "But that can't have been it, that was just now, and he already looked so bad when he came here."
"Did you notice something, Lady Éowyn? You were with him when it happened – whatever happened in the east."
"He knew at once that it was not the end, but a sign of hope." Dernhelm frowned. "No, that cannot have been it. I recall nothing that could have caused it, but his return to his office. If you want my advice, I will say you should keep him here in the Houses of Healing. He seems overworked."
"That was what I said, my Lady, and what the warden also said, but we cannot order the Lord Faramir to stay when he would rather not. Were he ill with fever, then we might dare, for then we could be sure of his approval once his senses return. Yet now, he seems to be well aware of his surroundings, and of everything, and still, he will not stay."
What! He had released himself, when he had refused to order the same for Dernhelm?
"It worries me a great deal", the woman prattled on. "The Lord Faramir was always so sensible and patient, always heeding healers' advice when others would not do so."
"Perhaps there is some emergency to do with his Stewardship?", Merry suggested. "That would explain why he is so busy all of a sudden. Though it is strange that he did not tell us."
"Strange indeed. I would have expected him to seek a compromise. To work only as much as he must."
They were interrupted by a messenger who brought letters from Cormallen, and confirmed Dernhelm's hopes: Éomer was alive, and asked him to come.
"This is joyous news indeed!" Dernhelm balanced the letter on his splinted arm and broke the seal.
There was nothing new in the letter, nothing that the messenger had not already said, except a note at the end, cautioning Dernhelm to not demand men's clothes for the travel.
Merry whooped in delight. "Frodo and Sam are alive! Why, I never would have dared hope!" He scanned the letter. "Oh, and they want me to come, too!"
Dernhelm waited while Merry re-read the letter. "Yes, that's about it, but of course put in much finer words. Mistress Ioreth, we can go, can we? I'm recovered, I reckon, and De- Éowyn is too, except for the arm, and that won't heal for quite a while."
The healer smiled sheepishly. "I see no reason why you should not. If there is any relapse, the king will be right there."
"Splendid! Thank you! Now, if you will excuse me, I must pack, even though I don't really have much to carry!" Merry hurried towards the houses, and Dernhelm followed him in a more dignified, yet quick pace, smiling at the Hobbit's happiness.
They were already inside, and about to part ways, as the healers wouldn't let Dernhelm into the quarters reserved for males, when Merry suddenly halted. "Oh! With us both gone, who will look after our new friend?"
"No doubt, Faramir has many friends in this city", Dernhelm mumbled.
"He never mentioned any! I suppose they've all gone to war? He's of an age where his friends would - Oh – quick!" Merry pointed at some floor-length curtain, and Dernhelm stepped behind it, not a moment too early. Heavy footsteps approached.
He had already been chastised once, like an unruly child, about being too close to the men's quarters, and did not desire a repetition. Thanks to Merry's quick thinking, the healers walked past.
Their conversation would not have much interested Dernhelm, had ne not heard the name Éowyn in it. There, he started to listen.
"... there. No wonder the Lord Faramir has gotten worse, his hopes are smashed, seeing as she now has the chance to snatch up a king!"
"Surely a king can do better than a barbarian from the north."
"Barbarian, maybe, but her face is fair enough, even though she's got not arse or tits to speak of. And the sister of a king, too. Besides, have you heard that she begged him to be allowed to come with him? Begged! Threw herself at him, she did. He might take pity on her ..."
"Dernhelm?" Merry looked up at him with a worried expression.
"I'm ... I'm alright." He just trembled with barely suppressed anger. "Though I think I shall not leave the Houses of Healing yet."
"Just because of those gossips?"
"Because there is little joy to be had in celebrating a victory I had no part in. Those rumours do not help, either. And were you not worried that Faramir would be lonely?"
"I was, but surely you want to see your brother?"
"That can wait. He has not much endeared himself to me in this letter." Advising caution while Dernhelm was sick and weak was one thing, doing the same now was quite another. "I should go now."
Had Dernhelm been foolish enough to hope for more peace and quiet in the women's wing of the building, he had been wrong. The maidservants' tongues were wagging like a happy dog's tail.
"... so pale and sad! The king must have written that he'll make another man Steward!"
"Impossible! He was so kind with the Lady Éowyn when he was here. No, surely he wouldn't be so cruel! Lord Faramir has lost so much! Besides, I always thought he'd make a better Steward than his brother – may he rest in peace – his wit is much keener."
"Of course the king would be kind to a fair lady. All men are, as long as they hope to win her favour."
"Don't be silly, she was unconscious!"
"Her brother was there to witness it, and his good opinion matters, too! Perhaps the Lord Faramir should ask the Lady Lothiriel to use her charms on the king."
"As if he would ever!"
They heard Dernhelm approach and fell silent.