Eight
Inescapable Realisations
It was wrong and Ismë knew it. As did Faramir, but neither quite wanted to admit it. They both thought that perhaps, if they did not speak of it, it might not be real. If they closed their ears and eyes to the outside world, pushed away any thoughts of duties and expectancies, then they would cease to exist.
It surprised Ismë how easy it was to do this. When she closed her eyes, the whole world around her, the House of Denethor and the citadel, simply melted away. What was left was bliss, it was happiness, it was Faramir. All she had was his soft words and gentle touch. There were no prying eyes, no obligations, nothing was wanted of her. They only required each other, just as they were.
She could have stayed there forever, cocooned in a little sphere of ideas and dreams. Her head swarming with plans and forbidden thoughts. How would it work? Could it work at all? She had pushed all feelings of guilt and betrayal out of her mind in one moment that felt like strength, but was really more like weakness – an inability to face up to the real world.
It had all started with a single question: why should she? It had come upon her in the dark of the night when she lay in an empty bed, wide awake and pondering the current, and rather dangerous, situation. She had been lying there, deliberating for hours, going over and over the recent events and her past feelings again and again. And then, just when she thought she would go mad with all the confusion, there it was. Just that one little question, just three little words. Why. Should. She.
For her whole life Ismë had followed what others had told her. They hadn't needed to force her to do anything, for she had gladly done it, out of duty and, in most cases, love. She had always thought that they had needed her to do whatever it was they had asked of her, that they would not do without her, but that probably wasn't true. Was it love that caused her parents to send her to Gondor? Was it love that guided Lord Denethor when he made her marry Boromir? Did anyone have her happiness in mind when they told her to do something? It was unlikely.
So why should she comply? Why should she do as she was told when it was never in her interests to do so? Why should she not make a decision for herself, for once? Why should she not do what she wanted to do? Did she not deserve it, after all this time of doing the bidding of others? Ismë felt strongly that she did. It was just a small thing, after all, just a short, insignificant meeting, that would change nothing, surely?
They had not talked it over for long after Ismë had made the suggestion. Perhaps this was because they knew it was wrong and did not want to linger on the subject. The words seemed to just tumble out of their mouths. In fact, neither of them said the words explicitly; it was all just rather suggestive. But they both knew what the other meant; they both knew what would happen when they met. And after they had made the arrangements they parted ways, as if it were a crime to be seen together.
And then the thoughts had begun. At first Ismë felt excitement, finally she was to get what she wanted. Then came guilt as the thought of Boromir and all his kind words flooded her mind. But then there was anger and resentment towards Lord Denethor and, for once, towards her family. Ismë was not sure how it was possible for one person to feel all these feelings at once, but somehow she was managing to do it.
And so it continued like this for many days, until finally the day came. They were to meet in a small courtyard by the Houses of Healing, it was secluded there, a place for the recovering patients to reflect and rest, and get away from the rest of the city. They were to meet at twilight, a time when neither of them would be missed and so their absence would go unnoticed. When Ismë thought back to all these factors later, she realised how sly it all was, it seemed almost salacious, but at the time neither thought anything of it. It was as if they could have picked any time or place to meet, like any normal pair of friends.
Ismë passed most of the day in a restless mood; she was on edge, but also rather excited, so much so that she almost felt ashamed, but for once, she could not hide her feelings. When the time came Ismë had been pacing slowly in her room, with Éda in her arms. She kept glancing towards the window, watching as the sun dropped inch by inch, lower and lower into the sky, waiting for the exact moment when it began to grow dark. Finally, when she thought that the moment seemed right, she called Adora in and handed her Éda.
"I'm going out, Adie," she announced, trying to avoid eye contact with the young girl.
"May I ask where, my Lady, at this late hour?" Adie questioned.
"Just for a walk, that's all," Ismë lied, giving her a reassuring smile. "It's a little too chilly for Éda though. Would you take her to the nurse, please?"
"Of course, my Lady."
Adie gave a small curtsey and departed the room. As soon as she left Ismë let out a small breath in relief. She was not quite sure why she was so tense, but she hated lying to Adie. Not that she had even said any kind of hurtful lie, but she knew that Adie would disapprove of her meeting. For, though they had never spoken of it, Adie knew Ismë's true feelings. She had been her maid for years now and, though Ismë's mind remained near impenetrable to all others, Adie always knew her innermost thoughts. She was paranoid that Adie would read her mind now, so she had kept her reasoning to a minimum, but she had seemed to accept her words well enough.
Ismë tried to be as normal and calm as possible as she put on her cloak and left the room, making sure that Adie was out of sight as she did so. She left the citadel swiftly, her steps sure and fast. The light of the fading day kept her suitably obscured without hiding her completely – to be seen skulking around in the shadows would do nothing for her reputation – and she continued without faltering until she reached the courtyard.
Faramir was already present and waiting for her as she arrived. He turned as he heard her footsteps and she run to embrace him.
"I'm so glad you came," she whispered, as they pulled away.
"Why would I not? It's rare that I get to have you to myself these days." She blushed as he said the words and turned away slightly. He shifted awkwardly, before gesturing to a nearby stone seat. "Shall we…?"
Ismë sat down in reply, holding her hands tightly on her lap, and watched intently as Faramir took a seat opposite. She could not help but notice that things were a little different between them, the way they were acting around one another was almost unnatural. Ismë was all of a sudden afraid to say and do certain things that she would otherwise have never even thought twice about doing. She was afraid to touch him, afraid to let her eyes linger upon him for more than a moment, afraid to show any kind of emotion towards him at all, lest it should be seen by some unknown onlooker.
At first they talked quietly for a while, of trivialities really – Ismë's least favourite subject. Faramir asked after her health and of Éda and she asked if there was any news of the outside world. But really they were dodging the real issue behind why they were both there.
Ismë thought that it might have been like a fairytale. She thought that once she saw him then she would be able to forget about everything else, that she would fall into his arms like some helpless damsel in distress, waiting for her love to come back and take all her troubles away. She thought that she would only see him - that only he would matter. But now that she was here, that was not the case. She had thought that it would be so easy to leave everything else behind and run away with him, not that things had quite developed that far yet, but she had certainly contemplated it on more than one occasion. But when faced with the true reality, she did not quite have the strength to do it. Because it wasn't really strength was it? It was weakness. It was a quick exit, it was the easy way out, it was a short-term solution to a long-term problem. Besides, she could quite easily turn her back on the bad thing in her life – it was one thing leaving behind Lord Denethor, the court, the expectations and the rest – but what about the good things? They were another matter entirely. For all of these contemplations required forgetting about her daughter, her husband, her family. Ismë willed it to be different, but it could not be so. There was no way around it. She wondered why the world would be so cruel and unjust and why people didn't just get what they wanted.
But, at the same time, that wouldn't work at all, would it? For she wanted Faramir, but Boromir wanted her. Faramir wanted her in return, but he also wanted to see his brother happy. It was Ismë that brought him happiness though, and Éda. And Éda brought Ismë happiness and she could not have had Éda without Boromir. So how was it all to work? There was not a way to please them all.
Whilst these thoughts rushed through Ismë's mind, Faramir had continued talking, of what she did not know for there were far more pressing matters to think about. But at that moment, he stopped. A lengthy silence fell between them and Faramir did nothing but gaze at Ismë's folded hands.
"Ismë? Are you happy here?" Faramir asked gently after a moment. Ismë gave no answer. "I want more than anything to make you happy."
Ismë paused for a moment to take in his words, but when she looked back up again, his face was inches from hers. His eyes were fixed on hers, but she could not meet them. He was seconds from kissing her, seconds from making her every wish come true, so why did she have that same nagging feeling at the back of her mind? Why did she want to pull away, despite the number of years she had waited for this to happen? He was so close now; she could feel his breath on her face; shallow, nervous breaths caressing her cheek. He raised his hand to brush the length of her jaw, at his touch she closed her eyes, they were almost there…Perhaps, she should just give in…
But nothing came; she felt a rush of air as he pulled away.
"This is not right, I am sorry." He rose and turned away from her, his head bowed.
"I know," she whispered. "It isn't. I can't do it."
He faced her as she spoke, she could see the guilt in his eyes. But there was uncertainty also; he was torn, bound by his duty to his brother but also by the strength of his love for her.
"I apologise for suggesting it, I don't know what came over me. I knew it was wrong from the start." She paused before continuing. "Don't think ill of me, will you?"
"I would never," he replied, his voice firm – Ismë believed him. "You are not wholly the one to blame."
"It was a moment of weakness, it will never happen again." The words saddened Ismë as they escaped her lips, that set it in stone now.
"It was for both of us. We are only human, after all. Let us not speak of it again." He sighed. "I must go now."
Ismë could sense his old self coming back. There had been a brief moment when he had been back to normal, back to the Faramir that she had known before, but it seemed it wasn't meant to be. He had turned cold again. No, perhaps not cold, for she knew the emotion was there inside of him, just distant, cut-off from her once more.
But now she understood why. It was a defence mechanism. How could she have been so selfish before? She had recognised her own pain that she felt every time she saw him, but what about his? How it must have pained him to see the woman he loved marry his own brother! And then, give birth to his child! But theirs had never been a two-way relationship, she had never had to think about his emotions much, save to wonder if he loved her or not, but really that did not matter at all to Ismë. It made no impact on her emotions, whether or not he loved her back, especially not now she could no longer have him anyway. Now that she looked back, it sounded so selfish, but she had never meant it in that way. Only now did the realisation come upon her.
Before she had been almost angry at Faramir for the way he acted, for not talking with her and carrying on the way things were. But how could she be angry now? How could she have asked him to simply continue with things like before, after all that had happened? She supposed that she had never really, truly accepted things for what they were, that was why. When her parents had sent her to Gondor, it had been like some fairytale. She had moved to a distant land, she had met Faramir, her prince, but been thwarted by a villain – Denethor. It was like one of the old stories, it had not seemed like real life, she had been too young to comprehend the gravity of the situation – that she might stay there all her life and not see her family, for she was so far away from them now. She had never even thought of the reason why her family might have sent her there. And as much as it pained her to do so now, seeing as she hadn't seen them in so long, she felt so angry towards her parents. How could they have cast her away like that?
But there was no time for that now, there was no use in being at angry at them, they were hundreds of miles away from her now. Besides, there were more important things. Like Faramir. Ismë broke her train of thought and turned back to him.
"I won't see you again for a while now, will I?" She paused and Faramir shook his head in reply.
"I understand now, why you go away so much. It isn't just because you have to, is it? It's because you want to." He frowned, but she continued: "But I want you to know that I understand."
"Then I thank you for that," he smiled, laying a hand on her arm.
"And I want you to know that I won't tolerate this coldness you have had of late. I know that things can never go back to the way they were, I know that now for sure, but please, don't let us completely loose what we once had. It would be such a loss if we did."
"Of course I will agree with you, I promise that I will not let it get that bad again. And I'm sorry that I did not realise before how much it hurt you, that was not my intention."
"You know how difficult it is living here – you know more than most – I need at least one ally!"
"Well, now you have two." He said, smiling. "Boromir and myself."
"Then, I am content," Ismë replied, smiling at him in return.
She felt sure that things would get better from now on, even if she and Faramir were still not to be together. In fact, if anything, it was better this way, for she could not be certain that she would have survived the guilt of it all, had it gone the other way. She had felt guilty enough just thinking about something happening between them, how would she have felt if it had actually happened?
But anyway, things were better now, Ismë was sure of it. She felt better, better than she had in a long time. The previous few days had just been a glitch, too many hormones racing round her body, too much time spent away from the company of the brothers. But now it was out of her system. Ismë felt sure that she would not think of doing it ever again. They had been tempted but they had resisted. Now the air was clear and they could start afresh, free of any tension between them or any awkwardness, any 'what-ifs'. Of course, the big 'what-if' still remained – what if she had married Faramir and not Boromir? – but she did not dwell on that now. She had accepted things as they were, she felt cleansed now, free of any emotions and thoughts that been weighing her down, free of the past. Now she had the future to look forward to. Besides, there was something greater to worry about, she was with child again. And what timing it was!
Two months passed and the day of Boromir's return finally arrived. Ismë had had much time to think everything over and to prepare her and Éda for the moment when they might greet him. She had not changed her mind about anything; she was steadfast in her decision in regards to Faramir and had also decided that she would redouble her efforts as Boromir's wife. She felt that she had been lacking of late, after certain distractions, but she had a newfound willingness to make it up to him. He deserved better than what she had been giving. The city deserved better than what she gave it, too. From then on she would be a model wife.
So as the day finally dawned, Ismë took Éda out of the Citadel and carried her all the way across the white stone paving, past the Tower of Ecthelion and the White Tree, and down the complete length of the gigantic stone that rose elegantly from the mountain, cutting the city in half like a great silver knife. From there, they could see everything. It was a beautiful summer's day, they had not had one so beautiful in a long time, and the sun shone off the white stone of the city as if caught in a mirror. Ismë almost felt as though, if she looked out across the great plains, she might see the reflected rays of it, dancing in the distance. In fact, the sun shone so brightly that day that you could almost forget the shadow in the East. They stood there, overlooking the entire city and the Great Gate, all day, waiting for Boromir's return, for when his Company were to arrive, they were sure to see it positioned here.
They passed most of the day just watching the inhabitants of the city moving below them. Ismë was not sure that Éda could comprehend the sight before her, but whenever she spoke or pointed at something in the streets beneath them, she would look and point with her, her eyes wide and watchful. Ismë told Éda stories to pass the time as well, ones that her mother had told her when she was little. Such as before, though she did not understand exactly what Ismë was saying, Éda would watch as she spoke, her eyes fixed on Ismë's moving lips, taking it all in nonetheless.
Hours passed and nothing happened. Then it reached the afternoon, the sun was still high in the sky and Ismë had to shield her eyes to see out across the lands. But it was unmistakeable. There was a rumble of hooves in the distance, just being carried softly on the breeze and echoing off of the mountain. Then, before long, plumes of rising dust from a hundred or so horses moving together could be sighted in the West, moving fast and towards the city of Minas Tirith. It would be some time until they reached it, but he was close.
"Look, Éda," Ismë cried, pointing far off to her right, while kissing the top of her daughter's head. "Daddy's back."
A few hours later and they were waiting for him in the courtyard. Adie had joined them and was presently bouncing Éda on her knee, while Ismë wandered lazily beneath the White Tree. The glorious summer's day had turned into a pleasant summer's evening, so they had continued their wait outside for the returning husband. They knew that he would come soon, for they had seen the company of men enter the Great Gate not an hour beforehand and heard the cheers of the townspeople as they greeted them, after a short break to see to the horses and freshen up, they would all be on their way to the Citadel. Ismë was quite nervous at seeing Boromir. It had been a few months since he had been home and the first time he had gone away since Éda had been born. She was unsure how she would react. Especially after the incident with Faramir. A flush of guilt and anguish flooded Ismë, even as she thought of it. What if he could see it in her face? She breathed deeply and tried to expel the feeling – after all, nothing had really happened.
All of a sudden, there was a sound of footsteps nearby and of many voices. It was them, they had returned. Ismë felt a flutter of nerves and butterflies swarmed her stomach.
And then she saw him.
She felt an unexpected wave of joy fill her, such as she had not felt towards him in a long time. Without thinking about what she was doing, Ismë hitched up her skirt and raced over, flinging her arms around his neck as she reached him, though he had barely reached the top step. He was much taller than her, however, so she had to jump a little. She was standing on tiptoes now, but as he embraced her in return, his grasp was so strong that her feet were raised from the ground. It was a childish gesture, but she felt an unanticipated feeling of enjoyment at performing it. The sight of the many men around him watching meant nothing to her, for what did she care for what they thought? She closed her eyes to them as her head rested on his shoulder. And when she opened them again the men had all but disappeared, they were filing into the Great Hall, one by one, ready for the feast that would start imminently. Lord Denethor always held a feast for the returning men, as a celebration of their victory over whatever foe they had encountered and subdued, and it was always a pleasant time. Then she lifted her head and looked him square in the eye.
"What's all this in aid of?" Boromir said, chuckling.
"I missed you," said Ismë, holding his gaze. "As did your daughter."
At those words, Adie walked forward, presenting their daughter, sitting upright in her small arms. Boromir set Ismë down and walked to greet her. He continued to smile as he took the now, much bigger Éda from the maidservant. Adie gave a small curtsey and resumed her position to one side, still watching and admiring the family's intimate moment.
Ismë watched her husband as he cooed over their daughter, bouncing her up and down in his arms and tickling her chin. Éda grinned and chuckled loudly, always happy to see her father. Ismë decided that now might be the perfect time to tell him about her news. She resumed her position of being up on her tiptoes and leaned close to Boromir's ear.
"Perhaps if you had returned a few months later," she whispered. "You might have a third person to greet."
She pulled away, smiling broadly and eager to see his response. He did not disappoint.
"You mean you're…" he stammered.
He was lost for words, it seemed the happiness, the wealth of emotion, the whole situation was too much for him. Instead, he simply weaved his free arm around Ismë's waist and pulled her back towards him, whilst hugging Éda tightly to him as he did so. His joy was infectious, soon enough they were all laughing together, even Adie. The second Boromir had released her, Ismë had swept the young girl up in her arms.
"Isn't it wonderful, Adie?" she said, breathlessly.
"That it is, my Lady," she replied, grinning broadly like the others. "That it is."
Would they have said 'Daddy' back then in Middle Earth? I'm not so sure, but 'Father' sounded too formal, and 'Pa'…well just not right. So I stuck with 'Daddy'. It sounds appropriate so to Hell with it!
Sorry for the very long wait for this one, it's been on my computer pretty much finished for ages but I've just started university so I've not had the time to put the finishing touches on to it. I promise a quick update with the next chapter.
Hope you liked it, please show your appreciation by reviewing, thank you.
Your only doll x
