Chapter 36

He felt like he dived too deeply under the water, was struggling to rise toward the bright surface, wondering if he had enough air to make it there. He couldn't move his arms, or his legs, nothing he called upon would aid him in his climb. The band of pressure across his chest grew tighter, more painful, yet the light was no closer. He started to panic, struggling to command his body.

A different kind of pain grabbed him, yanking his hair at the top of his head, pulling him straight up. His speed grew and so did the strength of the pull, the light growing brighter, stronger—

Then he was awake, jolting into awareness, feeling like he was jumping, his body jolting painfully.

"Garad!" he heard Faramir whisper, the words warm against his cold ear. "I have you! It's all right now."

It was hard to breathe, his whole body trembling, nerves jangling. He was aware of pain, but couldn't locate it. His mind spun, his hands feeling like they were backwards on his wrist.

"Easy," Faramir soothed, and Garad felt his hand stroking where the ache of the pull that had saved him still resonated. It worked wonderfully, body rejoining with his mind, his racing heartbeat steadying.

The pain was in his leg, and his back and neck. He was unbearably stiff, with leather straps holding him in one place. Panic rose again, but Faramir was here, and something else, the scent of jasmine somehow working its way through the burning herbs and the smell of wounds and his own stink to reassure him.

"Quietly," Faramir urged, and Garad felt his Captain's other hand come to rest over his heart. "That's it, be easy."

Garad tried to oblige him, blinking into the dimness. "Where…?" he managed to get out.

"Cair Andros."

"Bear…?"

"Right beside you."

He tried to turn his head in the direction Faramir wasn't, but that was strapped down too.

"Shh," Faramir coaxed. "You'll wake our keepers. Neither of us is to be stirring."

"…r-right…." he managed to gasp, screwing his eyes shut. Faramir's hands moved, and the strap holding his head down was unbuckled and lifted from him, followed by the ones holding his shoulders and his chest and arms. The sense of claustrophobia lifted immediately, and he raised shaking hands to scrub his face.

"You've been fevered," Faramir said. "Your leg is broken, it must not be moved."

Faramir's hand slipped behind his head, lifting it. Garad tried to help, but was unable to do more than swallow the gingered honey-water from the invalid bottle held to his lips. It was delicious, perhaps the most delicious thing he had ever tasted, but after a few sips, he was exhausted. When his head was laid back on the pillow, he couldn't keep his eyes open, until a sudden fear gave him strength.

"…Damrod…?"

"Is busy having a baby," Faramir answered, amusement in his voice.

Bewildered, Garad struggled to understand. "…how long…?"

Faramir's amusement became a low laugh. "Not long, just a few days."

"…we were on the river…."

"Is that the last you remember?"

"…I…. Boromir was swearing…."

"There were storms, but we made Cair Andros safely. Osthiril was here, and, well…. Bear is still with us."

"...he's all right…?"

There was a long pause. "No. But he lives, and is still a Man."

Garad blinked back the tears he couldn't control, feeling their warmth slide down the sides of his face. He tried to keep his breathing even, but failed at that, too. Faramir's hand took his, pressing it hard, painfully, giving him something to concentrate on, allowing him to discipline his emotions.

"The fortunes of war, Garad," Faramir said firmly. Garad returned his clasp as well as he could, and Faramir ran a thumb across his knuckles to let him know he understood.

"…baby…?" he prompted, fighting against the weariness pulling him down into darkness. He didn't want to return to its grasp, afraid of drowning in the deep darkness he had been rescued from.

"The villagers we rescued, they followed behind us with an escort of Rohirrim," Faramir told him.

Garad frowned, trying to capture the pieces of his memory floating by. They hadn't been that far West, had they? No, they weren't the ones who had gone to Rohan.

"Boromir…?"

"Showed up with Theodred, his cousin Eomer and an Eored from the Eastfold in the nick of time, as usual."

The exasperated affection in Faramir's dry tone warmed Garad better than the blankets his Captain was now fussing with, covering him, hiding his freedom from prying eyes.

"Eomer and his Men brought the villagers along behind us. One of them was heavily pregnant, Valar bless her. She managed to make it here, but once she felt the safety of the harbor walls around her…."

Garad chuckled weakly.

"The garrison healers aren't used to such issues, though I suspect it shall become part of their lives over the next little while," Faramir finished.

"…the tar?"

"Eomer brought that, too. But you must rest, Garad, or Elena will have my head."

The jasmine burst on his senses again, bringing back the heady sensations and tumbling memories of summer nights spent in the gardens of the Dome of Osgiliath, the distant music of strings and flutes floating from the ballroom into the garden, setting a waltzing tempo for their love making.

"…she's here…?"

"She goes where her Lady does," Faramir reminded him gently.

Garad smiled, not caring what the reason was that brought his butterfly to his side when he most needed the cheer of her beauty.

"Not that you'll be fit for sporting for a while," Faramir said, and Garad understood the warning. Elena had never made it a secret she lived for the fun of love, and woe to the Man who took such things seriously.

"…be all right," he told Faramir, mustering the strength for a grin.

"Mm," Faramir replied, and Garad easily imagined the frowning regard his Captain was giving him, though he could no longer keep his eyes open to see it. There was a wealth of previous lectures in that single syllable, but Faramir didn't add to their number. "Rest, Garad," was all he said. "I have you."

Reassured, confident that the deep darkness would be kept at bay, Garad allowed sleep to take him.