Warning, this chapter contains graphic description of violence

XI

FA 14

Faramir stared down at the myriad of bruises and bleeding cuts that littered his upper body, the dark, almost black, bruise that was already spreading over the left side of his forehead and swallowed hard. How was he to explain this to the king and queen? If they should ask. They rarely asked anymore. Maybe they were as use to him sporting a new bruise every time they saw him as he was.

Éowyn had been mad again. Very mad. He didn't know exactly why, he never seemed to know these days. It was something he had done, something he hadn't done, something he said or didn't say. It seemed as everything about his very existence made his wife loose her temper. This time she had been upset that he was spending too much time with their son. She had accused him of trying to turn the child against her and making him more like his father. Faramir had tried to explain that all he wanted was to show their son how much he loved him and letting him know that no matter what he choose to do with his life, Faramir would always be proud of him and love him. Something that his own father had failed to do.

"Maybe he didn't think you deserved his love? Maybe he wasn't as blind to all of your faults as others seem to be?" Her words dripped with poison and even though the young Steward was used to hearing such words, it still hurt.

"A child shouldn't have to earn its parents love, it should be given without any demands or circumstances" Éowyn snorted

"Why?" She asked unkindly. "Why should a child, if said child never does anything of value or significance, be able to count on love?" She was well aware how her word could be interpreted, and she meant them in every hurtful way there could be. She wanted to make her husband upset and hurt. She craved to see those bottomless grey eyes with a veil of unshed tears. To see his shoulders turn rigid and his lips pressed together. It made him look younger somehow, like a child almost. It gave her a sense of having the true power. She needed that power over someone. Faramir had never tried to cage her, never made her feel inadequate. He had never treated her less because of her gender, never thought he was better than her simply because he had been born a man. She never had to earn her power, he had given it to her without fight. And she hated him for it. Hated him for denying her the feeling of having fought and won. Where was the honor in winning without a fight?

"Because the child has never asked to be brought to life. Having children is the utmost selfish act there is. You don't have children for the child's sake. You have children for your own" There was fire and passion behind Faramir's words but also respect. Always this respect. Always care not to hurt any ones feelings. He would speak kindly to an orc if it could avoid war.

"Are you calling me selfish?" Éowyn's narrowed her eyes and looked at him dangerously. It was clear that she wanted him to provoke her, but he knew that when she was like this everything he said provoked her.

"We are both selfish" He said and smiled warmly. "We were both responsible in creating him because we wanted him" The blond woman walked slowly up to him. A smile on her beautiful lips, the same smile a serpent, wrapped around you, might give you before she breaks you neck. She leaned in and her breath smelled sweet and fresh and tickled his ear as she whispered softly

"I never wanted him with you"

Faramir closed his eyes. It hurt more than he wanted to admit when she spoke the way she did, but at the same time he couldn't falter her. He knew he wasn't the man she wanted. He knew she was hurt and that her heart was hurt. She had been ready to give it to Aragorn, but he had chosen another. How could he ever hope to make her forget her first love? How could he dream that he would ever make up for that dream? The dream of belonging to someone as Aragorn. A man of such worth. He was nothing compare to that and he would never dream to try to replace him in his beloved Éowyn's heart, he could only hope that his love might lessen the pain. To him, nothing was more important than Elboron's and Éowyn's happiness. He would do anything and everything for them.

"I know" He whispered back and swallowed hard. "I wish there was something I could do to ease your heart, my dear Éowyn" he continued, knowing all too well that his words might give cause to more anger. At least Elboron wasn't here to witness it. The backhand slap to his left cheek was expected, but still made him gasp in surprise and pain.

"Always you speak such elegant words" She spat at him and grabbed his long hair by its roots, pulling his face towards her. Faramir winced but stopped himself from cowering her hand with his own. It was over more quickly when he didn't try to ease the pain. "You try so hard to sound so lordly, like the kings of old" Her words cut deep and true, he knew she chose the words knowing all too well what some of Denethor's last words had been to his youngest and how it had pained Faramir. She wanted him to hurt. She needed him to hurt. As she spoke she tightened her grip on his hair and saw with satisfaction how her husband closed his eyes in pain. "But you will never be king and when you die there will be no Simbelmynë growing on your grave. You will be forgotten!" With her last words she forcefully let go of Faramir's dark hair and sent him forward. He lost his footing and fell on his knees onto the stone floor. Hastily he blinked the tears away and made an attempt to rise, but he felt a sharp knee at the small of his back and hands at the neck of his tunic, so he stayed put. He was pushed to his hands and found himself on all four, he heard the sound of the buckle as she removed the belt from her thin waist. He remembered that he had given her that belt as an anniversary gift the first year they had been married. It was well decorated with beautiful crafting of horses heads with gleaming green gems for eyes. She had loved it and wore it every day, even to this day. At first he had loved seeing it around her middle, but now he almost feared it as much as he used to fear his father's cane.

"What are you waiting for?" She hissed, pulling him out of his thoughts. He no longer needed to ask what she meant. He knew the routine. The first time he had protested, telling her that he no longer was an errant boy, she had laughed and asked him if he preferred that she indeed punished their boy instead. Their three year old son. Since then Faramir never objected to what she did to him. He knew she was using his love for Elboron against him, but he couldn't let her hurt his son and he would never blame the child for his mother's ill heart. So while remaining quiet he removed his tunic and exposed his bare back. The marks from her last outburst still freshly carved onto his skin. The first strike fell and he bit back a sharp hiss. He couldn't make a sound, not even a whimper. Not when they still remained in the Citadel. In Ithillien there were no prying eyes, no one to ask questions about his bruises or why he walked so stiffly. He had tried to make Éowyn see reason and move there, but it was met as every other suggestion he made. Mocking and another beating. As one strike followed another Faramir's mind started to wander, he heard the sounds as the leather and the silver buckle came in contact with his tender skin, he felt the blood running slowly from where the skin had broken, but somehow he didn't feel the pain. Not yet anyway. The pain, with the tears always came when he was alone. When he was left to tend to the bruises and the wounds. When he had to cover them up in order to protect their secret. He didn't know how any times she had hit him but suddenly she was done. With a growl she yet again gripped him by the hair and forced him to look at her.

"Wash up you filthy creature and don't be late. The queen and king has asked us to dine with them this evening" She spat in his face before she forcefully slammed his forehead into the clothing chest by the mirror. The pain radiated through his whole body and when he heard the door slam he let the tears flow. Silent and heart wrenching. At times like this he felt so small, like a disobedient child waiting to be corrected by his parent. Or, on his part, a nurse.

His mother had been week and died not long after his fifth year, she had never had a hand in raising him. She was nothing more to him than a memory. A feeling of safety and love, a smell of lily of the valley. His care had been entrusted to an old widow to act like his nurse till he was deemed old enough, at the age of six, to have a tutor and later when he turned twelve and joined the cadets, the arms master.

His caretakers had all been strict and unforgiving, punishments were never dealt out sparsely but before he turned seven his father was rarely involved. It was the others responsibility to make sure Faramir behaved as was expected of him and they were all well trained in how to deal with disobedient boys. He remembered when his tutor for the first time took him to his father to be dealt with. Faramir had neglected to attend to his lesson, something that never happened. When the old man went to the archives to ask the scholars if they had seen the boy, he found him sitting next to the old wizard that had come some day's past. Mithrandir, was his name. The boy seemed engulfed with the wizard's words and didn't even seem to notice his tutor. When he barked out the boy's name however he had shot up from his chair so fast that he almost tripped. Before Faramir could give an explanation the tutor had grabbed him painfully by his ear and was about to spin the boy around to give his wayward pupil some well-deserved slaps on the bottom, when the old wizard had stopped him. He had explained that he had asked Faramir to aid him in his search and that the boy had been of much help. Mithrandir had continued by asking if it was custom in Gondor to punish someone without knowing all the facts. The stern tutor had muttered an incoherent answer and dragged the boy away. His father would be told of this. He was sure to be most vexed with his son and he made sure that Faramir was well aware about it. Up until now he had never been forced to punish Faramir by anything else than wrapping a switch over his palms or his knuckles. But Faramir had never before neglected his studies either.

The tutor had been right and after a stern lecture about how his father felt about having a wizard's pupil for a son, casting a poor reflection on his father and, as always, comparing him to Boromir, Faramir had for the first time felt the strength of his father's hand. It would take a couple of days before he could sit down without discomfort, but that hadn't stopped him from spending time with Mithrandir whenever the Grey Pilgrim came to visit, even though his backside every time payed the price.

Among all of the adults in Faramir's young life, besides his father, the arms master was more unforgiving than the others. No mistake was left unnoticed and Faramir, more often than not, had to present himself in his father's study to be held accounted for them. At first his father was content with using the birch rod, always administrated on the bare, it stung, but never caused much more damage than a sore and red backside. He was eleven when the birch had been switched to a thin cane that left angry bluish welts that sometimes broke the skin.

Faramir took a shaking breath and did his best to compose himself. It wouldn't do to be late. He opened the chest and picked up a smooth wool tunic in a nice midnight blue color. The same shade as the cloak he had given Éowyn on their wedding day, the one that had belonged to his mother. Maybe that would do. It was awfully hot, and it was really a tunic to be worn during the winter months, but it had a high neck and would cover whatever bruise there might be. The one on his face he could do little about, but if he pretended that it didn't bother him, the others might not be either. He combed his hair and winced slightly when he nicked a swelling as big as a goose egg. For what seemed like the hundredth times in little over an hour, he sighed, put on a smile and spoke the words he had spoken so many times before

"Conceal, don't feel"