Chapter Thirteen – The Light of Hope

The door closed behind them leaving the room suddenly seeming much larger.

Faramir poured himself more water and sat down again. He took a swallow then sighed and looked up at his brother who watched him with concern. "How are you feeling? You've collected a nice bruise and a cut on your forehead to match your other wounds."

"Have I?" Boromir lifted his hand to touch his brow, then winced. "Remind me to have carpet laid all the way across that floor."

Faramir snorted. "A good idea if you plan to keep falling out of bed."

"I did not fall out of bed!" Boromir said indignantly. "I stood up, and stayed on my feet long enough to tell our father a few long-overdue truths."

"Yes?" Faramir looked at him with an odd mix of eagerness and sadness. "Tell me."

"Well." Boromir looked down at the blood on his fingers. "Now that I think of it, I must have sounded rather pompous."

"You! Never!"

Boromir gave his brother a mock scowl. "I don't recall it word for word, but the sum of it was that I had sworn an oath of fealty to Aragorn, Gondor's King. And that Minas Tirith would do well to look to his aid rather than to hope for any from that most accursed of all creations, The Ring of Sauron."

" I wish I had been here to hear that!" Faramir's expression was so admiring that Boromir, embarrassed, looked away.

"When did you arrive? I mean, how long was I unconscious and did I miss anything important?"

"It could not have been very long. We rode to the Citadel together, then Mithrandir said he would wait for me at your side. I went looking for father in the Great Hall only to be told he also had gone to you. When I entered the room, Garad, Gimli and Pippin were just settling you back in bed. Mithrandir was shouting at our father that he had no intention of leaving because whenever he left you alone with him he returned to find you further injured." Boromir snorted amusement, but Faramir frowned and said, "Wait, what did he mean by that?"

Boromir waved away the question. "Nothing of import."

"I could always ask him."

Boromir gave his brother an exasperated look but knew when he was beaten. "Last night, after you left me, Garad and some other men carried me not here, but to some room I have never before seen, somewhere behind the Great Hall. There, someone father referred to as his personal Physician arrived to tend my wounds." Boromir suddenly found the memory of that awful pain sent shivers coursing through him. He drew a steadying breath and concluded quickly, "I had never seen or heard of this Physician before. He said there were bone fragments, and then – " Despite his effort at control he shuddered. "Then I remember little other than pain and blood."

"I should never have left you," Faramir whispered, horror-stricken.

"You had little choice!" Seeing how sickened his brother looked, he added quickly, "Gandalf and Pippin soon arrived to drive them out."

"Them?"

"There was another, an assistant of sorts."

"If ever you see them again –"

"I will take their heads before ever you get your chance," Boromir growled and gave Faramir a quick smile that faded as he added, "But I fear we have mightier foes to worry us. And sadly, first among them, may well be our own father."

Faramir nodded and met Boromir's eyes intently. "What did you mean when you said the penalty would apply to us both? It will do Minas Tirith little good to lose you as well as –"

"Do not say it!" Boromir snapped, and sat straighter in the bed. He cursed and rubbed at the tight bandage that cut into his sore shoulder. "Whatever foolishness father attempts, I swear, I will find a way to counter him. "

"By threatening to die with me?"

"If that's what it takes, yes!" Boromir drew a deep, calming breath and said, "I will see no harm come to you, little brother. Nor injustice."

"I know it, and I thank you for it," Faramir said huskily.

There was silence for a moment, then Boromir said, "You are freshly come from a two day battle. You must be exhausted. Go, take some food and rest, then return and we will see if we can find a way round our father's madness."

"I would like a wash and some hot food," Faramir said, "But I do not think I could rest. Not yet."

"Faramir –" Boromir hesitated. "I am sorry. If only we had known you were so heavily besieged." He well knew the aftermath of bloody battle, the deaths of friends, would leave little desire for sleep.

Faramir nodded but did not lift his head. "My Second saved my life back there. Then, as we were leaving…. I thought he was following close behind. But – he was not." He shook his head and there was a catch in his voice as he finished, "I pray he and the others we could not save are dead, and not taken prisoner."

Boromir swallowed hard. He had lost good men in similar fashion and the agony of it never truly faded. He could find no words of comfort for there were none. In the silence Boromir looked toward the window, saw the evening star appear low in the west. After a moment he became aware that Faramir was watching him quietly, taking in every evidence of injury. And only then did it hit him just how badly his brother must have suffered, fearing he too was among the fallen.

"You look most pale," Faramir said as Boromir looked back at him. "Have you eaten a full meal today?"

"I could use some solid food," Boromir admitted, and added with a wry smile, "if I see another bowl of soup I'll throw it at the wall!"

Faramir's grim expression at last was broken by a soft laugh. "How well I know you mean that! You once threw such at me when I tried to play nursemaid the first time you were wounded."

Boromir smiled, pleased to see his brother eased. "So I did. I promise that if you find some roast chicken for me it will not meet the same fate."

"Roast chicken?" Faramir stood and gave a half bow. "My wish is your command." He went to the door, opened it and yelled, "You there, guardsman!" Boromir faintly heard his brother ordering their evening meal. There was the thud of boots as the guard hurried off to the kitchens. Faramir looked back into the room, and said with a smile, "I'm to my room to get out of this filthy shirt. Then, I'll be back. Long have I imagined the moment when we might share a meal together once more."

"As have I, little brother. As have I." Faramir turned away and Boromir shouted after him, "Be sure you have them fetch some ale!"

They were soon enjoying their food and Boromir could not recall anything tasting better. It had been a long while since he'd had such fine fare. Faramir sat across from him at the table he'd dragged closer to the bed, and by mutual agreement, they said no more of war but found happier childhood memories. "I still remember the look on Cook's face,' Faramir was laughing. "I don't think she ever trusted you again!"

"Not with delivering the cakes, at any rate," Boromir said with a mischievous grin. "Though I don't think she need have worried, we were both so sick after eating so many I doubt we could have faced them again anytime soon."

Faramir chuckled and looked up from the grapes and cheese he was putting on his plate. "I completely lost my liking for cherry pie, at least. What?" he asked suddenly, realising Boromir was staring at something behind him.

"They've done it! Faramir! The beacons are lit!"

Faramir turned about so hurriedly that he almost knocked the table over. "So they have! Well done!" He stood and hurried to the window.

"Help me up!" Boromir called. "I can only see Amon Dîn from here. I will not miss seeing the relay!"

Faramir frowned but relented when Boromir gave him a look part stern glower, and part pleading. Carefully, Faramir took Boromir's good arm about his shoulders and eased him up. Together they stood at the window, watching the blazing pyre of Amon Dîn light the night sky. "Hope is kindled," Faramir said softly.

"Father fears Theoden will deny our need. But I have ridden with Théodred and Éomer and I know they, at least, will not."

"Rohan will come," Faramir said with that certain glimpse of the future that Boromir had long learned to trust. "Rohan will come. Théoden will fight on the field of Pelennor."

Boromir felt his brother shudder as at some sudden horror, but when he asked, Faramir would not tell him what he had seen.

"Come," Faramir said instead and turned him back toward the bed. "If you would also take part in the battles ahead you will need your own legs under you and that will not happen unless you rest."

"Look who's talking!" Boromir said as he settled back into bed again. "When did you last sleep?

"I don't think I remember." He rubbed a hand at gritty eyes.

"Exactly my point." Boromir tried to hide a wince as he reached for a mug of ale. He studied his brother a moment and saw the sadness returning to line his tired face. "But I'm in no hurry to end our reminiscing. Stay. Take the armchair. I'll wager one or two verses of my poetry recitation will have you asleep before you know it."

"You! Poems?" Faramir laughed. "The threat alone might do it!" He held Boromir's eyes a moment and said, "Thank you, brother. It is most good to have you home at last."