Chapter Five

I remember taking young Pippin to my brother and feeling nothing strange or suspicous about my current situation. Of course, by this time I was intoxicated to the marrow of my bones and somewhere in that blurry state of swaying bliss I was convinced to go home and get some sleep (no need for the men to see their captain completely done in and swaying). I don't think that, in the midst of all our laughter, I was able to scold my brother for his earlier miscalculations in his now infamous brew, but as I lay my head down on my pillow I assured myself I would get the chance, if only to stop thinking it.

By the time I was fully capable of opening my eyes without seeing a haze it was past four o'clock in the afternoon. I groaned in agony of my pounding head and dragged myself up to lean against the headboard of my bed while rubbing my eyes and trying to regather the events prior to my crashing into sleep.

When I came to the part about turning myself in for the fire and getting five years in jail as well as earning Eowyn's hate for stretch of my sentence, I would have laughed if I did not want to slap myself for being such a drunken fool. That may have been the Took's choice fashion of telling the lady how I felt, but I preferred a nice, simple, peaceful proposal.

I stood and dressed, not exactly remembering how I had managed to undress, and for the second time that day headed for my door. My list of things to do for that afternoon consisted of telling Pippin I could never consent to such a foolish plan, to tell Eowyn how much I cared for her, to stop acting like a ten year old boy, and to voice my opinion on Boromir's uncanny ability to make one drunk.

My brother was not in the guest suite of the Hobbits, as I had surmised, so I finally decided the only place he might be at this time was at the Inn.

Upon arriving at the scene half an hour later, out of breath and even a bit frusterated, I felt a strange twirk of that feeling that tells one that 'something's not right', due to the lack of any kind of human or hobbit or even elven life around the premises. A further search led me to a bench right outside the empty and desolate Inn, and wind whistled as it assaulted the tops of the buildings.

Boromir and Pippin sat silently side-by-side, watching leaves twirl on the paved ground before them in little dancing pairs with the coming rushes of wind. I made no effort to keep quiet as I marched to the bench and firmly placed both hands on the back of it. A gust of rain-scented air swept the leaves away from their line of vision, I suppose, because Pippin finally turned to look at me. I summoned up my firmest voice and said,

"Pippin, I must apologize for my earlier actions." I glanced briefly at the silent Boromir, then back to the attentive Hobbit. "I was not thinking clearly and there is no reasonable or rational way for the plan we discussed earlier to work. It is quite impossible." There, I had said it. I smiled in self-satisfaction and repressed a sigh of relief. I could be firm with any entity on this planet, but being firm with a Halfling was just difficult.

Pippin just put a finger to his lips and nodded in the direction of my idle brother. I moved around the bench and sat in the space next to him, and let him sit in silence for a moment more. A few leaves and gusts of chilled air later, I stated softly, "Something troubles you." As if joined with my mind, Pippin nodded at me and gave Boromir's leg a pat, murmuring a few inaudible words of comfort before retreating. Where Pippin went off to I have no recollection, but if there's something I do remember about that cold autumn morning is the conversation with Boromir, for I had never seen him quite like this.

He did not answer me, and I leaned closer so we sat shoulder to shoulder. "Boromir."

"Selma set the fire."

"Selma?"

"Aye."

"That…that's impossible!" my voice sounded very alarmed, even to my own ears, and I shook my head. "Boromir, it cannot be, tell me everything."

"There is not much to tell. This morning after you left she became very cold, and then closed the Inn. She took her horse down to the House of Justice and admitted to starting the fire." he stared blankly forward and I pitched my head in my hands miserably. What was happening, why was everyone suddenly going mad?

"But why? Why would Selma do such a thing?"

"That I do not know." he replied in a voice that was bitter and flooded me with memories of our late father in his last years. I stood.

"I am going to talk with her – "

"She will not see or speak to anyone." Boromir muttered, looking at me with the same eyes Peregrin Took had given me hours earlier. "Do not trouble yourself, it is pointless."

"Nevertheless I must try." I began to turn away, but took a moment to pause and ask as the question suddenly dawned on me, "She will not speak to you?"

"She will not see me."

"I am going to sort this out Boromir." I vowed, clenching gloved fists in growing exasperation. Something was not right here, and there had to be more to the story...Selma was no criminal! At times, I admit, I was not terribly fond of her, but she would never do a thing like this. I said to him softly, "Now pull yourself together. I hate to see you like this." Boromir smiled at me and reached out to squeeze my arm affectionately.

"Faramir, you are my brother as well as my best friend, but you will always be a silly dreamer." He exhaled sharply. "Tis just a passing thing."

I smiled back at him, thankful to see the flicker of happiness return for even just a moment, and then turned away from him.

On my way to find the quickest route to the House of Justice, I ran into Pippin. He held a few warm biscuits in one hand and a chicken leg in the other, and was swallowing the large bites of meat he took almost whole.  "Is Boromir all right?" he asked me after gulping a bite of biscut down.

"Yes, but maybe sharing some of your loot would cheer him up a bit, don't you think?" I suggested innocently, knowing I had hit the Hobbit's weak point. Pippin paused in his chewing, then looked at me suspiciously from under an arched eyebrow.

"Why don't I just take him to get his own?"

I grinned to myself and gave his shoulder a pat. "Of course, Pippin." As I began to stride away, he asked in turn, "Where are you off to?"

"The House of Justice. I plan to sort this mess out."

"And turn yourself in?"

I frowned. "As I mentioned earlier, when I agreed to that foolhardy plan I had not been fully sober. So no. Go talk to Boromir."

"Where is he?" Pippin bit off more tender meat from the leg in his hand and scanned the area. "Still on the bench."

"Aye, right where I left him."

Pippin scampered off with his little arms full of still steaming food, and I withheld my smile. Hobbits never changed, not like Men did. With the thought in my mind I continued to face the cold. It seemed to get colder with every step as I neared the House of Justice.

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The guards at the House of Justice gave me immediate admittance, but it took a bit of finagling to see a captive that refused to be seen or spoken to. Finally they brought her into one of the rarely used interrogation rooms, where we both sat at a small table in the very center of it.

I wasted no time. "Selma, what are you doing here?"

Selma narrowed her eyes at me in very clear annoyance, but replied respectfully, "For burning down the Steward's living quarters, Captain." I silently cursed and averted my eyes. Now she was just playing hard and I was not good at being firm with women. I exhaled sharply, trying to think of a way to be frank with her. Before I had a chance to speak again, she muttered, "Why else would I be here?"

Then it hit me. I could prove her innocent! I held up a finger right in front of her face and stood. "Stay here. I'll return shortly." She looked even more annoyed, but nodded and sat back. I opened the large oak door and moved out, locking it behind me. To the guard outside, I asked in a very soft whisper,

"Do you know how this fire began?"

"Yes, sir."

"How?" I nodded my head as he explained to me in the window of a few moments that a rock had been thrown through the eastern window that supposedly knocking down the lantern that sat in front of it. When I mentioned that it may have been an accident, he shook his head and replied,

"With respect, sir, one would have to have been blind to not have seen the lantern. And the hit was very precise." I bit my lip at this in concentration, swimming silently in my thoughts a moment, then thanked him and moved back into the room. I quickly took my seat once more.

"Selma?"

"Captain?"

I smiled at her. "How did you start this fire?" Clear alarm chased across the startled, pretty features. Her mouth dropped open for a moment, then she closed it and attempted to look unabashed by my question. I stated it again. "Well? If you started it you must know how you did it."

"My crime is none of your concern." she snapped, and then immediately bit her lip, and continued humbly, "I apologize, Captain. But I…don't remember how it began."

"You do not remember or you do not know?" I felt a warm, victorious sensation creep up my arms and into my chest with every word that spilled from my lips and brought even more alarm into her eyes. The moment was spoiled, however, when she began to cry. My heart sank and I could swear on my life that I felt my face go pale. It was uncomfortable to be in a room with a crying woman, knowing I was the reason she was crying. I hesitantly moved to nudge one of her hands with my forefinger. "Selma? Why did you turn yourself in?"

"I have nowhere else to go." she sobbed feebly, fruitlessly wiping away tears. "My business is doing terribly…I cannot pay for it anymore and I'll be out on the street. At least in here it's warm and I'm kept fed and clothed."

"What about Boromir?"

Her head snapped up, and she croaked, "What about him?"

"He loves you! Did you not know that? You could marry him, Selma!" I exclaimed, not putting both hands over hers. "There are other alternatives to putting yourself among the lowest in society. I'll convince him to ask you right away, and get you out of here!"

"He already asked me."

I paused. Then, "And you said yes, am I right?"

"No." she sniffled, cupping her cheek in her hand. "No, I turned him down.."

"But he loves you, Selma, I will explain everything, and…"
"I cannot marry the Steward of Gondor!" she hissed at me, and pushed stray strands of dark hair from her face. "I have no birthright. I am just a peasant that owned an Inn she could not pay for. He would be insane to marry me…the reaction the people would have…" Selma let her face drop into her hands. "I could never take such madness."

"Maybe that is what love is." I replied. "Maybe love is being mad, love is making sacrifices and irrational decisions…deciding what is truly important, Selma." I reached over and patted her tear-damp hand lightly, allowing my words to sink in. As much as I had try to ignore it, it was right. "Would you marry him if he asked you again?"

I saw a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. "I suppose I would…I do not know, Faramir…sometimes love is avoiding irrational decisions and helping one despite the…" she looked down. "…the hurt it may cause. I will consider your words, Captain Faramir."

I leaned over to plant a firm kiss on her forehead, just happy to have that bit of hope, and I stood to moved out of the room.  Telling the guards I was finished with Selma, I went to go relay the news to my brother when I saw four very confused guards placing him in a cell of his own.

My jaw dropped and I stood there, gaping like an idiot, before I actually convinced my legs to move and trotted up to the scene.

"Captain." the guards saluted me, but I turned to my brother and asked bluntly,

"What are you doing in there?"

Boromir shrugged. "I turned myself in."

I felt ready to pull my hair out. "Why?!"

My brother regarded me silently, and replied in a low voice, "I know what I am doing."

"This is not the place for the Steward of Gondor!" I snapped, snatching the keys up from the guard and opening the cell. I yanked my brother out, sparing no force or pain in my effort. I was very frusterated at this point and slapping Boromir would have been very satisfying. "Now do you know how the fire started?" He paused a moment, and a variation of the expression that had crossed Selma's face earlier crossed his. I shook my head and snorted in disgust that would have done my late father proud, turning to the guards. "From this moment on do not arrest anyone that does not know of how the fire started."

"Aye, sir."

"You forget who is the higher rank, Faramir?" My brother interrupted us. "I know how the fire started."