Chapter 35: Ligature
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Éowyn smiled when she made out her brother between the men. "Éomer," she said his name while embracing him. "Wyn," he returned. "How did you fare little sister?" Her eyes found his. There was something that troubled him. When he realized that her smile diminished, her brother looked to the ground. "Wyn, I am unharmed. Please smile again. Do not stop because of me," he continued. "Please tell me what is it that troubles you?" He evaded her view. When he lifted his head, his face was stern. "I have to see my people," he declared and was gone.
Faramir closed the door. He had brought his father to his chambers. He paused, then turned around. Denethor had closed his eyes. His gaze wandered around and rested on a book. It was the one he remembered from his childhood. He looked at his father, then sat down next to him and took it. "I have not seen this in a while," he mumbled. "You have not," agreed his father. "You kept it here." He smiled and opened it. "I have." He felt his father's view on him and he paused for a moment. "You must hate me for what I have done," Denethor said and regarded his garment. "You should soon lay these clothes aside. They speak only of war and ruin." Faramir returned his look. "I will as soon as I have treated..."
"There is no wound that must be tended to. I received what I deserve," the steward interrupted him. "Please go," he added. "Father, if I may..."
"This is an order captain!" Denethor shouted what made him cringe as if he were a boy. Faramir lowered his head and rose. He laid the book down. "Keep it."
"My lord," he answered and pressed it to his chest. Without turning around again, he left the room. Quickly, he went to his chamber, entered and locked the door. Faramir placed the book on his desk, moved to his cupboard and fetched his blue garment. Yes, it was good indeed to lay his armour aside. He folded his ranger suit and confined it. Faramir turned around, walked over to his desk and sat down. He opened the book and studied the first side. Only now, after all this time, he realized it was his mothers. Suddenly, he felt very tired and his head sank down.
Darkness, all around him. He could not see. He could not hear. It was different this time. This time he did not dream. It was no vision. It was not real. Then, a voice. A familiar one. "Hannon gin." Aragorn? Yes, he was it. Faramir could not open his eyes. He has to open his eyes. He was needed. He should have stayed with his father. He should have been stubborn to stay but again, he failed.
Boromir arrived at the training grounds and smiled when he saw Calemireth. He drew his sword and parried a blow. "Boromir," she said. He reached for her sword but she backed away. "No." He smiled at her. "No?" he repeated. "No. Only if you can beat me." He lifted his sword. She attacked and Boromir barely blocked it. Immediately, she aimed at him again and he lost balance. She was good. Before she could attack again, he grabbed her arm and drew her close. Calemireth dropped the sword and leaned her head against his chest. "Deceitful move," she mumbled. "I know." He caressed her head. "I had to. You are too good a fighter," he added. She lifted her head and he could look into her beautiful green eyes. "Calemir, your name is well-chosen." She smiled. "Faithful jewel, yours is too." He embraced her. "Forgive me. I acted stupid. From now on I will not again, risk to lose my jewel." He kissed her brow. Then, she began to weep. Boromir looked at her. "Please tell me Calemir that you do not shed tears because of me," he mumbled. She pushed him away and laughed. "No, of course not," she paused. "My father. He fell at the Pelennor." He drew her close again. "I am sorry. I was not there to save him," he replied. "I am glad you finally returned."
"As am I." They smiled at each other. "I missed you," he admitted. "As have I," she replied.
"Boromir," someone shouted. Éomer. "Aragorn, he is wounded. The steward attacked him," the marshal continued. He gently pushed Calemireth away and shook his head. "Where is he now? I will talk..."
"Faramir already does in this very moment."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"I have to leave. I will visit Aragorn soon after." Éomer nodded and left. "Calemir," he said. "Go." Boromir smiled at her and headed towards the citadel. He entered and then stopped because his brother's door was locked, so he had to be inside. The older one knocked at the door. "Mir?" No one answered. "Little brother?" He hurried into his chamber, next to Faramir's to get the key. Boromir unlocked it, entered and leaned against the wall. His brother was asleep. He walked over to him and carefully touched his shoulder. "Mir?" he said his name again but his eyes remained closed. Boromir moved his hand to Faramir's forehead. "Brother. Do I have to worry? Or do you only sleep peacefully?" The younger one opened his mouth as to reply but no words were to hear. A knock at the door. He turned around. It was the shieldmaiden he had last seen at Edoras. She looked at Faramir. Then her eyes found his. "He is asleep and will not wake," Boromir explained. He rose. "I have to see my father." When he closed the door, Éowyn tucked Faramir in a blanket.
Oh, why did no words leave his mouth. Why has he not managed to open his eyes? "Do I have to worry?" No brother, do not. The stone. He would need his healing stone. Aragorn would need it. "Boromir, wait." Finally. Finally, his mouth did listen. However, no answer. When he was tucked in a blanket, again he wished to be able to rise. The gentleness and familiarity reminded him of Éowyn. She was there. He was not. Forgive me.
Aragorn had never felt so weak before. Something was different. Something has changed. Denethor had attacked him but he was not angry with him. He pitied him. The man could not see how lucky he actually was. Instead of having enjoyed the presence of his sons, he had sent them away. The steward separated them. He opened his eyes and laid a hand on his injury. Unfortunately, the king's healing hands would not work on him. No. He had to trust the healers. His friends. His stewards. However, he was alone. Soon, they would come. He knew. "Told you I heard something," a voice from outside declared. He smiled.
"It is good to see you, my friends," he said when elf and dwarf entered.
"You look good considering what has happened," replied Gimli. Legolas nodded. He sat up and looked at them. Then he returned the nod.
Gimli viewed him, then Legolas.
"Is this sort of a communication."
"Maybe," replied the elf.
"Is it?" he was asked.
"No, my friend it's not," Aragorn answered.
"As you say," Gimli responded with a nod.
He laughed, as did Legolas.
"Next time I will be there, with my axe, to defend you. Have you earned a dwarf's friendship, you have it forever," their friend annouced in a stern voice.
"Hannon gin," he returned. "As you have mine."
"And you both have mine. I fear the days we are not able to share together," stated Legolas.
"I will not get emotional," said Gimli while turning to the window. He exchanged a view with his long-time friend.
"We will tell nobody," promised Aragorn.
"You better do that."
His stewards. Faramir was still trapped in the darkness but he could hear his king's voice and thoughts. His stewards. So, he will share the stewardship with Boromir if he agreed. Shall he? Would he be a good steward? Hasn't he failed Aragorn? He could not join the men at Mordor's gate. He allowed to be sent away from the city. He was weak. Weak because of Denethor. Always was. He feared him. His father was too strong, too far away. Has he not promised Ecthelion to lead him out of his insanity he developed over the past years. "Cursed," a foreign voice told him. "Cursed," he repeated. A hand touched his. "Faramir?" Éowyn. She stayed with him. He tried to answer but failed. Again. "I will be back," she said and her hand was removed. Cursed. Maybe he is. Maybe Aragorn is. Maybe Boromir will be next. Please not.
He had sent him away. Again. Denethor failed his son. Again. Eyes closed he enjoyed the silence around him. Then he heard a knock at the door. "Father," it was Boromir, not his youngest. Unfortunately, not Faramir. He did not answer. His eldest entered, viewed him, then placed a chair in front of his father and sat down. He exhaled. "You are at any cost, against the return of the king," he began. "Aragorn is not our enemy. He is my friend and he will be king." Yes, but not his own. Boromir looked past him and nodded. "Aye, I cannot change your mind, father. Know, we will be on different sides from now on. I, for my part will guarantee the return of my king. As will Faramir," his son declared. "How is he? Is he well, is he safe?" Denethor mumbled. "He will not wake. I fear some wizardry is at work." The steward opened his eyes. "May I see him?" he asked. His son did not answer. He would have, wouldn't he? Denethor looked up. "Boromir?" he said, worried.
No.
Éomer was with his men when his sister ran towards him. He laid the unfinished letter aside and told the messenger to wait. "Éowyn."
She stopped in front him. "Éomer."
They exchanged views.
"Yes."
"Have you seen Lord Boromir?" she asked.
"No, not of lately. He said he would visit his father," he replied.
Éowyn nodded and turned around. He grabbed her by the shoulders.
"He is not to be disturbed. Wait for his return," he declared.
"I cannot."
He exhaled. "You will."
"Then I am I allowed to visit my friend," she returned.
"It´s the woman I have first seen on battlefield. We both were left behind."
He let go of her. "You may."
She curtsied. "Éowyn?" he called and his sister paused. "Have you seen Faramir of lately?" He opened the unfinished letter and his quill. When he had found Boromir, the man (what he had not expected) was startled of his brother being alone with the steward.
"Yes. He is asleep," Éowyn answered and sadness returned to her face.
"He will wake, Wyn."
She looked at him. "You were not there."
Éomer embraced her. "He will."
Calemireth regarded her sword that laid on the ground and smiled. She regretted it to have cried in his arms. Now, he would call her weak. Yet, she could not resist. Boromir changed her. Calemireth reached for her sword and put it back in its scabbard. Then she turned and followed him.
A cliff-hanger… I know… one does not simple leave a cliff-hanger.
I will update as soon as possible.
Note: The cursive parts in between belong to Faramir. He entered a "dream-like" place, I thought it would fit well because of his "foreseeing ability". Boromir will be affected differently because he is a man of action.
Read you.