Through Daeron's Eyes - Rites of Passage, Part III
By Dancingkatz and Rhyselle
The morning after the last of the written examinations the residents of the Academy's senior barracks were preparing for the day while discussing the last four days where it seemed that they were asked for every scrap information that had been taught them over the past four year years.
Val rubbed the fingers of his right hand and grimaced as he tried to button his tunic. "I don't know what feels worse, the writer's cramp or the headache I got when I tried to remember dates of different campaigns."
Daeron offered him a commiserating glance as he reached for his crutches. "For me it's the writer's cramp. I think I used up three bottles of ink on the essays alone."
Halmir looked up from where he was putting on his field boots. "What I hate is that after we turned everything in, I began to remember all those bloody details that I couldn't think of in the middle of the essays."
Gharal handed Daeron the flask of medicine that Balath insisted he take if he was going to be using the crutches. "Here, don't forget this. That happened to me, too. As soon as I stepped out of the room, that's when I finally remembered that equation for maximum loading on a type-three trebuchet."
Halmir stood up and fastened his belt and asked, "So what are you going to do all day today since there's no more exams and we're not on watch?"
"Well, can we finish our post mortem at breakfast?" Grethen asked from the doorway. "I'm starving."
Val perked up. "Food sounds great. I still have all those meals I slept through to make up." He skirted around Daeron and joined Grethen.
"Why don't we all go get breakfast and then we can decide what we want to do," Daeron said as he levered himself up from where he had been sitting on his foot locker.
Halmir ran his hands over his hair in a vain attempt to smooth down the flyaway strands then shrugged and followed Daeron.
The dining hall was busy but the tables reserved for the seniors were mostly empty. Gharal pushed Daeron towards the table they usually sat at and said, "Sit down and save our places. I'll get your plate."
"All right! Just remember no mushrooms!" He called and slid onto the end of the bench and sourly considered his splinted leg. Just his luck, both he and his horse were lame.
Gharal looked at the tables and asked, "Why is it that we are up so early when we could have slept in?"
"Habit?" Val suggested as he reached for a tray and headed for the serving hatch.
"We're morning people?" Halmir put in.
"We don't want to get the dregs of whatever it is they're giving us for breakfast?" Grethen suggested as he snagged three of the best looking store apples from the basket next to the hatch. "What's on the menu this morning anyway?" he asked the tired looking cook who was in charge of dishing up.
"It doesn't have a pulse and it's hot." The cook responded in a surly voice.
"Ha, ha! Very funny." Grethen held out his tray and a loaded plate was dropped onto it without ceremony. The large cadet then requested an additional plate for Daeron "Without mushrooms," he reminded the cook. "Unless you want to explain to Lord Laedren Greyvale why his only son and heir dropped dead after eating a breakfast cooked by you."
Halmir snickered as Grethen name-dropped.
The cook grumbled but he went deeper into the kitchen and filled a plate sans mushrooms and handed that to Grethen.
"Thank you," Grethen said pleasantly and turned towards the table where Daeron waited. "Here, no mushrooms. What do you want to drink?"
Halmir followed Grethen to the table and dropped his tray next to Daeron's. "Small ale is probably safest."
"No thanks, that draught makes everything except water taste bad."
"Unless the water was boiled... how about some tea, Daer?" asked Gharal.
"That will work, I guess. Thanks."
Shortly all of the cadets were seated and making inroads on the food.
Halmir glanced over to the hatch and wondered aloud if there was a chance he could get seconds.
Gharal snorted, "You can try, but grumpy guts there isn't very generous."
"If he had been, I wouldn't be wanting seconds. Well," he swung his legs over the bench and stood up. "The worst that can happen is he'll say no."
"Anyone want to bet on whether he's successful or not?" Val asked.
Halmir gave him a withering look and headed for the hatch.
Daeron couldn't help a grin as he shook his head. "This is Halmir we're talking about here. If anyone can seconds out of Grumpy, he will."
Grethen snickered.
Daeron finished the scrambled eggs and looked askance at the limp bacon before beginning on the grilled tomatoes. "So what are you doing today, since we have all this free time?"
Val glanced back at the kitchen hatch where Halmir was only visible from the waist down, apparently in close conversation with the cook. "I'd wager that Halmir finds his way to the archery range at some point today but I don't bet on sure things."
Gharal reached over and poured more tea into Daeron's mug. "I'm going to spend some time over in the infirmary and see if I can get Balath to show me some more things. Once we graduate, we'll be sent out to our postings within the fortnight and I'd better take advantage of his generosity while I can."
"Gharal, I have a broken leg, not a broken arm. I can pour my own tea," Daeron growled with exasperation. "I appreciate all the help you've given me but..."
Val nodded. "Gharal, do you want me to talk to my Uncle Adoan? Maybe he'll let you come into the Houses of Healing after the graduation ceremony and before we leave for our assignments."
"Would you?" Gharal looked ecstatic at the idea. "That would be wonderful!"
"It can't hurt to ask. How on Arda did we know you for so long and not realize until just a couple of weeks ago that you wanted to be a healer?"
Gharal shrugged. "I can't afford the apprenticeship fees to become a real healer, so I just figured it would be easier not to talk about it."
Halmir came back to the table, bearing a grin and a new tray filled with eggs, bread and sausages. He picked up on the conversation and, loading his fork with scrambled eggs, said, "Well, you never know. It looks like I'm going to get to follow my dream... maybe one day you'll get to follow yours."
Grethen pushed his empty plate away and shook his head at the sight of Halmir's tray. "Where do you put it?"
Daeron glanced over at Halmir's tray and said, "His mother claimed that someone cast a spell on his stomach when he was an infant so that there's always room for more food, even though it never ends up on his bones."
The majority of the underclassmen had finished eating and headed out for their assigned classes and duties while some other seniors wandered in, most of them bleary-eyed and looking rather the worse for wear.
Halmir shrugged and kept on eating.
Gharal smirked and excused himself as three of the hung over cadets headed in his direction. "I have some customers. You know, Halmir I ought to pay you royalties. If it weren't for that still you helped Lorimer build, I'd have no market for my hangover cure."
Gharal met the three cadets and led them over to a corner where money and three small flasks changed hands. All seemed pleased with the transaction and Gharal returned to the table after putting the proceeds in his belt pouch.
"Hmmm. Now why didn't I think of that?" Halmir swallowed down the last of the sausages and gulped his mug of small ale. "I'm going to get my bow and head for the practice range. Anyone want to join me?"
Daeron pushed his plate away and reached for his crutches. "I'll meet you there after I've checked on Ruinanor."
Val collected his plate and eating irons and mug and put them on Daeron's tray and stood to carry them to the scullery. "I'll come watch. It's no use taking wagers; everyone knows that you're the best archer of our year."
Grethen added, "And of the three years below us too."
"I'll see you in a bit, then." Daeron hobbled out of the dining hall and into the sunlight. He should have taken Rolin's bet that it would be miserable weather today because they had liberty. For once the sun was warm without being too hot, there was just the slightest of breezes and it was altogether a good day for lazing around and relaxing. However, he didn't want to give in to the temptation to emulate a stone lizard until after he'd checked on his mare.
Halmir waved as he headed for the barracks to get his archery gear. "Scratch Ruinanor's ears for me," he called.
Val was sitting on the wall that separated the archery lanes from the drill yard when Daeron arrived from the stable.
Daeron looked at the wall and sighed. The best view would be from on the wall but Gharal was giving him a look that promised mayhem if he so much as thought about climbing up there. "So has Halmir started shooting yet?"
"No. He's going through his 'routine'," Val hopped down from the wall. "Checking fletching and all that."
Grethen appeared and said in a low voice, "It looks like we're going to have company; there's a half dozen Rangers headed this way. Don't tell Halmir"
Daeron shrugged and leaned against the wall. He was depressed. The farrier was not happy with Ruinanor's progress and he'd been muttering about "possible laminitis" and "extreme treatments." The mare was still in pain and was off her feed.
Grethen noted Daeron's demeanor and asked how Ruinanor was doing and looked concerned at the answer. "That's too bad, Daeron. If she is developing laminitis, I don't think there's much that can be done for her."
Halmir set the last of his arrows into the quiver and swung it onto his back, satisfied they were as they should be, and then turned towards his friends. "Sure none of you want to shoot with me?"
Daeron was conflicted about what to do about the bay mare. He hated for her to suffer but was reluctant to give the farrier the order to put her down. He started at Halmir's question then answered, "Sorry, Hal. I'm two hands short."
Gharal shrugged, "Why not? I can use the practice."
"Good, a bit of competition makes it more interesting." The breeze flicked a strand of his hair in Halmir's face and the cadet muttered to himself and pulled an extra bowstring from the pocket on the side of the quiver and tied the shoulder length locks into a queue with a quick looping motion. "That's better."
"Why don't you just cut it short?" Grethen asked.
Gharal collected a bow and some arrows and strapped a bracer onto his left arm. "Are you shooting right-handed or left handed?" he asked.
"Yeah, and then I'll really fail inspection for having messy hair. Daeron can tell you how awful it looks cut short." Halmir answered Grethen's question then turned to Gharal. "I'll start left handed... give you a better chance to beat me," he grinned.
Unlike most archers, Halmir wore arm guards on both forearms.
Daeron snickered, Halmir's words bringing back a memory from when they were 11 years old. "He's right, it's even more unmanageable when it's cut sort. He ends up looking like a dandelion puff."
Lady Penraen's youngest son laughed, "That's an understatement... it looked like a giant dandelion puff." He took his place at the firing line and waited for Gharal to join him.
Gharal finished stringing his bow and stepped up to the line. He turned to look at his friends and saluted. "We who are about to die of embarrassment salute you."
Grethen and Val laughed. "Good luck, Gharal," the latter said, "I won't make book on this match."
Halmir gave an exaggerated bow to them, nocked an arrow, took his stance, and drew the string back easily to the point of his jaw. "Ready whenever you are, Gharal."
"I'm ready," Gharal answered, also having drawn his bow.
Grethen cleared his throat. "Free shooting, 12 arrows, then we'll move the targets and try something else. Ready, fire!"
Halmir loosed the arrow and had the next drawn and nocked even before the watching cadets reacted to the first hit.
Gharal's first shot just missed the center of the target and he was slower than Halmir in nocking a new arrow. The would be healer fired his second shot and continued until he'd fired all twelve arrows.
One after another, the dozen shafts peppered the target, and Halmir relaxed, grinning as he saw that he'd clustered every arrow in the center ring.
"Show off," Grethen called good naturedly.
Gharal shrugged. He'd been reasonably accurate, any of his shots would have severely injured and possibly killed an opponent but while Halmir's arrows were clustered together such that a man could close his hand around all twelve and still make a fist, Gharal's arrows were more widely scattered. "Well, that went better than I expected," He said as they moved down range to collect their arrows.
Val glanced towards the entrance of the archery range and grinned. "I think you need to move the targets back," he called. "Put them at 20 yards."
"Why not?" Gharal dropped his arrows into his quiver and dragged the butt back to the chalk mark indicating 20 yards. Halmir did likewise, after checking each of his arrows to make sure the fletching hadn't been stripped in flight. When he turned back to the firing line after shifting his target, he noted the half-dozen newcomers, clad in the uniforms of the Ithilien Rangers.
It wasn't unusual to have the Army regulars use the Academy facilities, but knowing that members of the unit he desired to join would see his skill sent a frisson of excitement through Halmir.
Grethen nudged Daeron and nodded towards the Rangers. He whispered, "Do you recognize any of them?"
Daeron looked across to the newcomers and that surely was... "Lord Faramir!" he whispered back.
Halmir hadn't seen the Ranger Captain before the cadet turned to face the target again. "What now, Grethen?"
"Speed shoot from the quiver. Twelve arrows on my mark." He paused a moment. "Three...Two.. One... Mark!"
Again, a dozen arrows found their target, and Halmir had completed his set before Gharal had loosed eight.
"You've been practicing without me, Gharal! Last time you only got five before I was done. Good job!"
"Thanks. Yes, I've been practicing. A certain mutual friend was pretty insistent about it." Gharal gave a wave to Val who saluted jauntily back.
Halmir chuckled. He was about to suggest they collect their arrows when one of the Rangers called a warning to the firing line, and then ordered "Fire!"
Val leaned over and nudged Daeron, "Look at Halmir.. .doesn't he look like a child in front of the sweets shop window?"
Daeron nodded. "I hope that Lord Faramir accepts him in the Rangers. Halmir won't survive three months in the cavalry without being up on charges."
The veritable rain of arrows from the Rangers' bows ceased as quickly as it had begun and the "all clear" was called.
Gharal had to tug on Halmir's arm to get him to turn to go down range to retrieve his arrows. "Come on, you don't want to keep them waiting."
Halmir flushed a bit as he realized he was staring, and jogged to his own target. Again he checked the arrows, discovered one had loosened fletching, and tucked it into his belt rather than the quiver. "Thirty yards this time?" he asked.
"Why not?" Gharal agreed good-naturedly and moved his target.
"Bet Grethen gives us called shots this time," Halmir said as they turned to go back to the firing line.
"Of course he will. And I'm going to lose spectacularly and retire to sit in the shade while you pepper the forty yard target till it cries for mercy."
"And when I'm done you'll get me an ale and we can figure out what to do with the rest of the day."
"Sounds good to me."
They reached the firing line and Halmir adjusted the guard on his right arm. "You really have improved, you know."
"That's only because you and Val made me work at it. I was utterly hopeless until you decided that I needed more practice. Besides, you're a better teacher than Sergeant Karal."
"Well, if I don't ..." Halmir shook his head.
"Are you going to stand there and talk all day or are you going to shoot? " Val asked in a joking voice.
"We're waiting for range master Grethen to tell us what to shoot," Gharal called back.
"Called shots. Speed is good. Accuracy is better." Grethen replied.
"Both are best!" Daeron called out.
"Ready? Ten, third ring!"
He chanted out the positions quickly, challenging his friends as they had to listen for the command and still get the shot off fast enough to fire the next one.
Halmir was so focused that he didn't realize that the Rangers were also firing in accordance with Grethen's calls.
When the last arrow landed, Gharal lowered his bow and took a deep breath. "That's it for me today."
Grethen had noticed the Rangers has followed his calls and grinned. "All clear, retrieve your arrows!"
Halmir was pleased to see that eleven of the dozen arrows had been precisely placed, and the one that was off, was off by less than an inch.
He took two steps down range and then realized that the Rangers had also been firing. He stole a glance at the other targets and his eyes widened as he saw that they had gotten a 95 success rate, and the archer at the furthest butt had a perfect score.
When he reached the target he found that one of the fletchings on the off set arrow had been stripped off and made a mental note to refresh the glue in his repair kit.
"I'll move your target for you," Gharal offered. "Why don't you see if there's anything to drink before Grethen makes you fire two dozen shots."
"Sounds good. Thanks." Then Halmir turned and walked back up range.
Daeron sighed and readjusted his position against the wall. crutches or no, he really needed to sit down somewhere soon.
A handful of other cadets had come into the range, drawn by Val's cheers at Halmir's performance. One of them, who had arrived before the arrows were retrieved, had a water skin slung over his shoulder, and offered it to Halmir.
Gharal returned from moving the target to the end of the range, a good 40 yards from the firing line. He didn't shoot that distance, having only recently been able to get 30 yards with any reasonable accuracy. He left his quiver for Halmir's use then went to where Daeron was leaning against the wall. "How's the leg?"
"You did great, Gharal. The leg hurts, as usual. The one thing I forgot about was that there's nowhere to sit out hear except on the wall."
"I'll take care of that. Be right back." Gharal went to the entrance of the yards and corralled two passing junior cadets, and asked them to bring a bench for Daeron to use.
Again Halmir checked his arrows, and the ones in Gharal's quiver. He tucked the second damaged shaft next to the first through his belt at the small of his back and then slung Gharal's quiver next to his own.
By the time Halmir was ready to shoot again, the juniors had carried in a bench borrowed from the dining hall and placed it so that Daeron could lean against the wall while he watched the shooting.
One of the Rangers called to his group, "Two dozen, rapid fire. Top three shooters continue on."
"Thanks," Daeron said with relief as he settled onto the bench and felt the warmth of the stones behind him soak into his back. Now he could relax and enjoy watching his best friend do the thing he did best of all.
Halmir looked to Grethen, who shrugged. The archer drew his bowstring, and listened for the command to fire.
The gathered cadets fell silent and Daeron found he was holding his breath.
The sound of 168 arrows whistling through the air drew the attention of more of the Academy's denizens. Even the Commandant, who was passing the entrance to the yard in the company of several important visitors stopped to observe.
Halmir dragged in a deep breath when he fired his last shot and distinctly heard two more shots go off after he'd finished.
The Ranger who had called out the order to "fire", headed down range and began to tally the scores. He waved off four of the Rangers who went to lean on their bows near the wall where Daeron sat.
He then bowed towards the remaining two Rangers and, to Halmir's shocked surprise, to Halmir, before going to join the observers. "Clear the targets!"
Val hooted and punched the air. "Go, Halmir!"
The sight of one of his cadets sharing the line with the Ithilien Rangers on a 40 yard speed shoot, was too intriguing so the Commandant asked his guests f they wished to stay and see the results before going on to their meeting.
Halmir gulped and went to retrieve his arrows. The only damage to the target was in the center ring and the inner part of the next.
Daeron gave Halmir an encouraging grin before, with the unerring ability of a cadet to recognize the presence of high ranking individuals, turning to see who had come in with the Commandant.
"Ready on the firing line!"
"Val! Look!" he hissed, nudging him with the tip of his crutch.
"Oh my. I hope Halmir didn't notice.'
Grethen muttered, "Don't worry. He can't see anything but Ranger green and brown."
Halmir was barely in position when the command to fire came again.
Once more, Daeron found he was holding his breath.
The six dozen arrows again found their targets, the last shots of each hitting their marks at virtually the same moment.
The Ithilien Ranger officer went to count points, while the enlarged audience waited in excited silence.
"Breathe Daeron, blue isn't your color," Gharal reminded him in a whisper, handing him the waterskin.
"I'll try," Daeron returned in an equally soft whisper.
"Sorry, Damrod. The lad's got one more than you."
"Clear the targets!"
Halmir stared wide-eyed at the two Rangers on the firing line and went pale as he realized just who the one furthest away from him was. He dropped to one knee and bowed, "My Lord Captain Faramir!"
The Steward's younger son shook his head and waved for Halmir to rise. "Go retrieve your arrows, cadet," he grinned. Halmir immediately obeyed, and returned to the firing line, looking slightly dazed. Then, as he looked at the empty target, he dragged in a deep breath and switched his bow to his left hand.
Faramir retrieved his own arrows and returned to his spot on the line. "Damrod, will you do the honours?" Noting that Halmir was now prepared to shoot right-handed he raised an eyebrow. "So you aren't left-handed?"
"No, sir. I shoot left handed against Gharal to keep from trouncing him too thoroughly." Halmir flushed a bit. He nocked his first arrow and waited for the command to begin.
Faramir shot an amused glance at his brother who stood with the Commandant and his uncle and cousin. "I've done the same a time or two, myself." He turned towards the target and set his arrow. "Whenever you're ready, Damrod."
"Fire!" Halmir got off the first six shots in record time and accuracy, but as he drew back for the seventh, the bowstring broke. Without pause he reached up and yanked on the short end of the string holding his hair out of his face, had restrung the bow and was again firing down range as quickly as he could.
His last two shots hit after Faramir's last impact.
"Eru's blood!" gasped Val.
Faramir released his focus on the target as his final arrow left the bow. He heard rather than saw Halmir's last two arrows land in the target and realized the crowd was abuzz.
He turned towards the cadet whose hair was now hanging loose about his shoulders and realized a broken bowstring lay on the ground in front of the cadet. "You replaced your bowstring and still were only two arrows behind?" He was amazed and come flood, fire, or famine he was going to have this boy for the Ithilien Rangers even if it meant buying Boromir every cask of Lebbinese red wine available in the city to do it.
Halmir was shaking, his hands trembling on the bow as he stared downrange at the target. He'd done it. He'd actually out shot real Rangers. He jerked as he realized that Faramir had spoken to him. "My lord?"
"I was asking if you had replaced your bowstring in the middle of that shoot. I wouldn't believe it except that the broken string is lying there at your feet."
Halmir looked down at it and stooped to pick it up. "It was just by chance I'd used my spare to tie my hair back, sir."
Before Daeron could reach Halmir he noticed Lord Boromir, the Commandant and his father heading for Faramir and Halmir. "Atten-tion!" he called in his best parade ground voice.
The shouting and cheering cadets immediately fell silent. Halmir snapped to attention, his heart pounding in his chest, his fingers clenched around his bow and the other hand clutching the broken string.
Faramir turned, saw his brother and gave a mock scowl. "You didn't tell me he was ambidextrous, Ori."
Boromir shrugged and grinned at Halmir. "I figured you'd want to find out about him on your own. Besides, would you have believed me? Congratulations, Cadet. Excellent shooting."
"Th-thank you, sir." Reaction to the adrenaline rush was beginning to catch up with Halmir, and he flushed in dismay at the stutter and in embarrassment at the public praise by the Captain-General.
Daeron's father and Captain Osril, the academy Commandant, also offered their congratulations. Once he'd spoken to Halmir Captain Osril turned to Boromir and Laedren. "My lords, if we're going to have you back at the Citadel before luncheon, we really should..." and gestured towards his office.
"We'll be right with you, Captain," Boromir said before glancing at Laedren. His adjutant was gazing thoughtfully at his son, who while looking happy for his friend's accomplishment, looked tense...far more tense than being in the immediate presence of high-ranking officers should make a senior cadet.
The Commandant nodded and headed out of the gate, taking his other staff members with him. As soon as he was gone Ori called out, "As you were!"
Grethen and Gharal were suddenly pounding Halmir on the back, again excitedly cheering, and freed from having to stand still, Daeron made his way over to Halmir. "That was fantastic shooting, Halmir. Congratulations."
Faramir smiled at the exuberance of the cadets and stepped back, gesturing for Damrod to join him. Damrod slipped up to stand next to Faramir with his usual quietness and economy of movement, "Yes, sir?"
Halmir became more uncomfortable with the attention he was getting, even that from his friends, and whilst he was proud of his performance, the adulation was something he was not ready to cope with after four years of being in trouble most of the time. "Thanks. Although I don't think I could repeat it after getting pounded by our giant here." He cast a mock-angry glance at Grethen and then snickered. When he looked back at Daeron, he sobered, sensing something not quite right about his friend. "Are you all right?"
"It's just my leg," Daeron answered with a shrug, "I think I've been on it too long this morning."
Before Halmir could scold him into sitting down again, another wave of senior cadets had engulfed him and pulled him away from his best friends.
Grethen and Val, having heard Daeron's words, immediately steered him towards the bench again. "We won't get him out of here until they've all had a chance to congratulate him and rub his arm for good luck so, sit down!" Grethen told him.
Gharal intercepted the three cadets and bullied them into getting Daeron to leave the range entirely. Laedren watched as Daeron was led away and made a decision. There was something more than the broken leg troubling his son. "Ori, would you give my excuses to your father? I think I'd better see what's going on with Daeron once our meeting here is over."
"Of course." Boromir followed Laedren's gaze to the small knot of cadets moving at Daeron's slow hobbling pace. "I'll expedite our meeting so you can see to him," 'he added, "But you'll need to give father another bottle of that red wine he's so fond of to make amends."
"Thank you."
Just then, the bellow of one of the training sergeants sounded from the entrance. "Clear the range!" A horde of third years, agog at the hubbub of the seniors and finding Rangers there, milled into the range.
Halmir, unable to deal with any more attention, gave into temptation, and taking advantage of the additional confusion, slipped into his chameleon persona and vanished into the mass of teenagers, intending to retrieve his arrows later.
Faramir finished his quiet exchange with Damrod and turned back to locate Halmir as the sergeant slipped away again. He frowned as he realized that the youth was nowhere in sight.
"Come along, little brother," Boromir said, slapping Faramir on the shoulder. "I think your bird has flown."
Laedren fell in beside them as Boromir strode towards the commandant's office. "Perhaps, your brother has some suggestions for who he wants assigned to Henneth Annun?" he said slyly.
Faramir shook his head in amazement. "If he can disappear in the wild as easily as he just did here I certainly want him. I know I had my eye on him and then..." he gestured with his hands as if tossing something away, "...he was gone."
Laedren nodded. "He's been able to do it since he was a child. Drove his mother into hysterics once when he disappeared from a family party in the middle of a thunderstorm--and turned up in his own room happily fletching arrows, after the entire sixth level was turned upside down looking for him."
Boromir snorted and increased his pace, "Well, you can look for him later. Father will have my hide if I'm late for luncheon again and for once there aren't any females invited, so if you don't mind..."
"Poor, Ori," Faramir teased. "You're not going to escape forever, you know." He ducked away, out of reach of his brother's threatening arm, laughing as they passed through the arch that led to the Commandant's office.
hr
The breeze that the walls around the archery had blocked was able to move freely over Halmir's perch, blowing his hair across Halmir's face. Up here in his private (and not exactly legal) refuge he was finally able to relax for the first time since he'd escaped the archery range. Now that he was away from the embarrassing delighted turmoil of the spectators' reaction to his accomplishment, he was able to find pleasure in it--along with astonishment.
Rangers... He'd outshot real Rangers and had made a more than credible competitor against Lord Captain Faramir himself! Then his train of thought was broken as his stomach rumbled noisily, and he laughed out loud.
"You'd better do something about that if you're not going to give away your position."
The cadet found himself in a defensive crouch, his hand clasping the knife he'd automatically snatched from his belt, and then flushed as he recognized the voice of the Ranger Captain.
Faramir dropped lightly to the tiled roof from the ridgepole and tossed Halmir a packet wrapped in waxed cloth before sitting down next to him.
Halmir snatched the packet out of the air and resheathed his knife at the same time. "Thank you, sir."
"You're welcome," Faramir said as he unslung a waterskin from across his chest. He made no comment about having the knife pulled on him. He'd rather expected it and was pleased at the speed of the cadet's reflexes. "Nice view isn't it?"
Halmir settled again and nodded. "I come up here when things get..." he trailed off and gazed out across the Pelennor towards Ithilien again.
The Ranger captain sat the waterskin down between them and began to unwrap his own packet. "...to be too much. I know. I spent a lot of time up here myself as a cadet. I think I could find my way across the Pelennor to the River and across to Ithilien blindfolded, I stared out there enough."
The waxed packet resting forgotten in Halmir's hands, the youth turned his head and gazed at Faramir in surprise. "You did? Sir," he added belatedly and cursed his fair skin as he flushed again.
"Oh, yes. I wasn't exactly the epitome of cadets. I think the only reason I was allowed to graduate at all was because I was the Steward's son. I don't think anyone's managed to beat the number of demerits I earned here."
"Well, if I haven't, I've come close," Halmir sighed and finally opened the packet he held finding it contained a substantial meatroll. "Like I told you when you asked me to report to your office, until the practicals, I don't think I got through a week without messing up something."
Faramir tore a piece off his own meatroll and ate it, waiting for Halmir to continue. He smiled reminiscently as he recalled one or two of the more outrageous stunts he'd pulled and how they'd ended up being the basis for some rather unorthodox but very successful sorties against the Southron invaders once he was out in the field for real.
"I never did anything bad enough to get flogged or anything like that, sir," he continued, "but I just can't seem to think like a cavalryman should. And so I answer questions wrong, make the wrong decisions, and, well..."
"Gondor needs her cavalry, but she needs other kinds of soldiers as well," the older man said, his eyes still on the landscape beyond the city. "Cavalry are useless for sneak attacks, and pretty much any fighting on broken ground or amongst trees." He took another bite of his lunch then glanced over at Halmir. "Are you jealous of your friend?"
The question surprised Halmir, but he took his time and thought about it before he answered. Finally, he shook his head. "Daeron? No, sir. Not really. I mean, yes, he's the heir to his father's demesne, and he's saved your brother's life, and has been honoured by the Steward; but we've been best friends since we were in skirts. I'm happy that he's been so successful. It's come with a high price for him, and he deserves every accolade he's been given. And I'm the first to stand up and cheer him on. My--talents--lie in different areas than Daeron's; and I'm finally realizing that isn't anything to be ashamed of."
"Good." Faramir took a drink from the waterskin and handed it to Halmir. "You shouldn't be ashamed to be yourself or of your abilities."
Halmir's stomach rumbled again and he finally bit into his meatroll. After he swallowed his first bite, he looked at the Captain. "Sir, may I ask you a question?"
"Go ahead."
"This morning, did you come to the range to--um, check out the seniors' abilities?" he flushed slightly, realizing that it sounded as if he were asking if Faramir had come to the range specifically to see him shoot.
"No, It was simply a coincidence that you were there. I always take time to go to the range when I'm in the City. But my brother did say that it was likely that some of the seniors might take advantage of having the day free to practice. I honestly didn't expect that any of you would be there." He grinned. "I would have been up here enjoying the peace and quiet instead".
The two sat in silence for a while, finishing off the meatrolls before Faramir spoke again. "What do you think it is like to be a Ranger?"
Halmir took a drink of water, and answered, after wiping off his mouth, "Hard, dangerous, but satisfying." He glanced down at the crumbs from the meatroll that lay in his lap and brushed them into his palm. "Hungry a lot--if you're hunting orcs, I doubt you have much time to hunt deer or coneys." He smiled wryly, and then popped the crumbs into his mouth, licking a stray one from his lip.
Faramir gave a short laugh. "There hasn't been a deer or coney spotted within three days of Henneth Annun in years. What we didn't catch, the orcs and Southroners did. It's hard to imagine that in my grandfather's day Ithilien was teeming with game to the point that they had to send out parties to cull the deer so there'd be enough food for them over the winter." He continued speaking, describing the hardships and beauties of the Moonlands and how the company based at the Refuge lived from day to day. "I'll give you this much, if you ever leave the Rangers, you'll leave with a nice nest egg. There's absolutely nothing to spend your pay on out there," he said in conclusion.
Halmir grinned and impulsively said, "What would you spend your saved pay on when you eventually retire from the Rangers, sir?" He didn't react to the word "you"... not wanting to risk tempting fate if, indeed the Captain would be willing, one day, when Halmir had served his required time in a mounted unit, to accept him into the elite corps.
"Books," Faramir answered immediately, "and good beeswax candles to read them by. I have a few volumes I carry with my gear, but usually I'm too busy or too tired or my eyes ache too much from the rushlights to be able read much."
"What do you like to read, sir?" the young man asked, wanting to know more about the Steward's younger son. He forebore mentioning what his reading preferences were, having been teased unmercifully when he was younger by his sisters.
"Poetry, much to horror of my esteemed big brother." Faramir smiled crookedly. "He thinks that a soldier who reads anything besides reports of past battles and strategic essays is a few arrows short of a full quiver. He keeps trying to get me to take these unwieldy volumes about military history back to the refuge with me. As far as I'm concerned they're more fit for use as doorstops, and there aren't any doors in Henneth Annun. What do you like to read, Halmir?"
"I like poetry, too. My sisters tease me about it so I haven't mentioned it to anyone in ages." He looked out across the lush summer greens of the grain fields and orchards of the Pelennor, beyond the Rammas Echor. "As the greening of the spring, gift of Iluvatar after winter's despair/you make blossom hope where/hopelessness held sway./ And like the bud coming into flower/ you draw me as a bee to nectar." Halmir looked sidewise at Faramir, looking for his reaction to the bit of romantic poetry.
"Spoken well and with good discretion," Faramir said with a humourous glint in his eye then he sobered, "Is there a certain person you intend to share that bit of verse with?"
Halmir shook his head. "No, sir. Just wishful thinking. I know that it will be a long time before I'll have the luxury of courting anyone; but sometimes I find myself wondering what that will be like when it eventually happens--if it happens." He wasn't sure why he amended his statement but a prickle of gooseflesh ran over him and he shivered as if he'd unwittingly made a prescient statement.
Faramir looked at Halmir, his face more serious than it had been through most of their conversation. "I would prefer that any man under my command in Ithilien not be tied to a wife and children. As Boromir keeps repeating, war is coming and I do not want to give an order that will end with the creation of widows and orphans. Likewise, no firstborn son will ever be assigned to Henneth Annun so long as I have command there." He sighed and turned his head back towards the northeast. "Of course, the time may well come when we do not have the luxury to spare the married and the heirs of our people. But until that time..."
The breeze freshened and the tocsin rang for the change of the watch as Faramir stopped speaking.
Halmir nodded and began to respond to Faramir's last statement and then started as the bells rang out then he sheepishly settled back onto the tile roof. "I'm so used to being on the drill field for evening muster, I forgot we're excused until tomorrow morning."
"Excused from the muster or no, you need to eat a proper meal. One meatroll in a long day will not keep your hand steady on your bowstring. I speak from experience."
"Yes, sir." Halmir grinned and scrambled to his feet, collecting his bow from where it lay next to him. He took the necessary steps to cross the ridgeline of the roof but paused and turned to face Faramir. He drew himself to attention. "It was an honour to shoot with you today, sir... and more of an honour to speak with you this eve. Eru bless you, sir."
"Eru's blessings be upon you also, Cadet Formail," Faramir answered and watched Halmir out of sight. Then he turned back to watch the changing colours of the sunset as they fell on Ithilien. He definitely wanted this young man under his command and would have him if it meant he had to harass Boromir day and night between now and graduation. He waited until the sky began to grow dusky blue before he rose and made his own way off the roof.
TBC