* * *
Prelude to Innocence
by Akin
The next days they reached their position by Harnen where they could watch over the situation. There were no Haradrim in sight and so they built a camp. Until nightfall the tents they carried with themselves were raised. Boromir retreated back to his tent with the captains.
Faramir looked at his own he shared with Tiris. He was in no mood to go in and sleep although night already fell. Nevertheless he forced himself to tug into his blankets. The Haradrim surely knew about their presence. They could expect an attack soon, tomorrow. Or even in the night.
* * *
He awoke to the clinging of swords. His mind was tired and confused. Foggy, he decided would be the best word to describe it. He pushed the unruly strands of hair from his face. Today was most likely the day of condemnation, or absolution. The sickening idea returned life into his veins again. His spirit literally rose, although his limbs were heavy.
He fetched the sword at the side of his sleeping place. It was not in a loving manner like Boromir always did, as if stroking something precious, but Faramir hazily realised that in his grip there was something similar to his brother's.
He relished the feeling of satisfaction for a moment, but then quickly rose and put on the chainmail. Boromir forced him to wear. For his protection, at least from the start, as he had put it. He would need it.
The attack would come today, he was sure of it.
* * *
Faramir blinked furiously although his vision was absolutely clear.
His brow was knitted together, as he eyed the Haradrim standing face off to him. It was really a big man and Faramir was uneasy. He fully realised his opponent, he saw his own hand holding his sword, and yet everything seemed so distant as if he was living a dream.
I could always concentrate very well, unlike today. Is it from the lack of sleep? he wondered, No matter the cause, if I do not wake up from this weird dream immediately I can be very soon ordered by that sword to sleep forever.
Despite the dangerous realisation the edges of his vision blurred even more. He had never been so fully awake and yet never so dangerously walking in dream. He was so aware of his opponent that even if he had closed his eyes, he would have still felt his every movement.
Concentrate!
Despite the harsh orders his mind kept swaying easily. The feeling of presence was elusive.
He was convinced that if he was to spar with Boromir right on the place, he would hold against his brother much longer than usual. Maybe even defeat him.
But this is not careful Boromir!
Maybe he would win. Despite his will the idea was poisoning him with unknown self-conscience.
Is this what I was afraid of? To fight?
Suddenly Faramir spotted an opened space in Haradrim's defence he had been longingly searching.
His arm quicker than his mind dodged forward and the sword easily pierced the soft flesh of Haradrim's chest.
Not too deep so the sword would not stay clenched in the ribcage.
He pulled it out as fast as he had pierced it in. The tip of the cold metal was bloody.
Unlike he had expected, the Haradrim did not fall to the ground.
He looked at Faramir rather stunned and wanted to say something, but the words remained closed in bloody bubbles that started to come out of the wound together with bright blood.
Faramir stepped back, stunned. He saw the pain of the Haradrim's on the dark-coloured face, but his limbs were too weak to give the blow of mercy. Then finally the man fell down and in a final cramp breathed out for the last time. White sandy ash that had been swirled by this fall settled covering the limp form just like all other forms lying in the dust.
Only then Faramir looked around and realised that he heard no sounds of battle anymore. On the ground around him many corpses were scattered, mostly of Haradrims.
The evidence of ferocity and recklessness the attack had held struck him. He leaned forward a little so that the light-headed feeling would go away.
In the corner of his eye he noticed Boromir hurrying his way, so he straightened. When Boromir, who himself appeared unharmed, came closer, Faramir waved at him, "No worries, brother mine. I am not wounded."
In Boromir's face there was unusual strain, but despite that he easily patted Faramir's shoulder, "I am glad, Faramir. Now we shall aid those who were not so lucky," he looked around sadly. Then he patted him again and went to command the necessary works.
Faramir sighed. Enveloped in a smell of blood he did not feel victorious at all. Neither did he feel scared anymore. Then after he had sighed again, he went after his brother.
Some of the older, more experienced soldiers had already began with the grim task of identifying the dead. They were silent, not forcing anyone to help them. Everyone needed his time to awake from the deathly stupor of mind and to actually realise that he had survived.
Faramir looked down at cut limb that was lying by his feet not so far from the body of a Gondorian. His stomach twisted and the meagre breakfast started to ask for a way out. Despite that he forced his knees to bend and touched the cold piece of flesh. It was, just like all the others, already covered with a thin layer of sand grains.
He could still distinguish the Gondorians from the Haradrim, yet they appeared so similar that it was almost ironic. He turned the body around and a high-pitched laugher tore out of his throat. It was no one he knew. His bones suddenly felt warm and weak and his joints solidified. He straightened and quickly walked past the others into the open space.
Although there were not many soldiers around where he was, he needed to get the greatest possible distance between himself and them without being too prominent.
He walked quickly and was only marginally aware of the small grains and stones flying away from under his boot. Vague pressure in his throat was independently growing on his mind. If he stopped or slowed down, he was sure he would start to cry, or scream. He could and would neither cry nor scream! No one should see him in the state he was in.
Faramir felt the almost metal clutches of his consciousness clinging to his mind closer and closer, pushing it into its tight embrace. And the more he pushed, the more the pressure in his throat grew. He was almost sure he could not hold the outbreak anymore and he panicked.
What is happening to me?
He realised his own harsh and laboured breathing. Faramir had a feeling that if he would not start to breathe normally soon, he would fall over. The cold shackles of his consciousness were not only around his mind anymore, but seemed to have contracted his chest as well. Crying and screaming were fighting for control within him.
He was finally out of sight of everyone and slipped into the valley that used to be Harnen's ground. He was thankful for being away. If he was to crack, no one could see!
He had a feeling that he would go to his knees soon, yet his body remained standing rigid and straight as he gazed over the river.
He could not see it though. Although he was safe, far from everyone, he could not surrender his body to the attack of panic. His knees seemed weak, but his jaws were firmly set and he had a feeling that his teeth would shatter each moment.
"Here you are!"
The voice of his brother interrupted his inner fight. Immediately a smile slipped immediately on his face, he did not even know how, and he turned to Boromir who was stumbling towards him down the steep he himself did not remember to passing.
Finally Boromir stood before him, a gentle smile on his lips, "I was hoping you would be here. I had seen you one moment and you were gone the other."
Half truth is better than no truth. I would not fool him entirely anyway.
"No need to worry. I was only a little shaken," lied Faramir.
"I can imagine. I was shaken after my first battle as well."
Faramir immediately came out of his imprisonment of doubts.
"Were you? How was it?"
Although Boromir had never denied him anything, Faramir was a little surprised when Boromir immediately relented and sat down. Faramir quickly followed his suit and listened eagerly.
"My first battle, or at least my first real battle was in Ithilien. A small group of Orcs had been reported and we were supposed to hunt it down. I was not in command then and I was eager to fight," a smile tugged at Boromir's lips, but his eyes were serious, "it did not take us long to find their whereabouts. It really was not a big group and I was convinced that it would be only a matter of few moments to get rid of them.
I was under the command of Tepisul, you do not remember him. He had died soon after that. He was a great commander, but I did not recognise it.
We were watching them several days. They had stayed in a small valley. It was so small that we were able to encircle it without being noticed. I believed they did not stand a chance against us, but Tepisul wanted to wait.
He still claimed that there was something more than had met the eye. I did not understand it and so I organised a group of those who were of my opinion and we attacked. I believed that there was no way we could not succeed. Tepisul was right though. As soon as we started to fight I realised that I had underestimated them. We had the advantage of surprise, but that soon passed. Luckily, Tepisul soon realised was had happened and came to our help. We had won that time, but the price for victory was high and many men died that night. I was shattered. And what was worst was that Tepisul did not even say anything reproachful to me although many who died were from his company. He more or less had to rebuilt it."
"Strange. I do not remember anything of this." Faramir wondered.
"Yes. Not many know about it. The leader has to have the entire trust of his company."
"But your company does believe in you!" objected Faramir.
"They would not give me their trust at the start if they did know, would they?"
Faramir looked at his brother and had a feeling that Boromir suddenly was not so tall in his eyes any more.
Despite that he did not appear to be any lower than before. Right the opposite. His estimation rose and now he was dearer to Faramir than ever. "Thank you," he whispered.
Boromir put a hand on his brother's shoulder and gently pushed him back towards the field with many bodies.
"There is still much work to do. We shall bring the bodies away ere the sun starts to do its work."
* * *
If he had been any stronger, he would most likely have sworn under his breath. But the condition he was in did not allow him not such a luxury. Faramir had a feeling that if he was to help to carry one more body, he could already be added to them as well.
The bodies were cold and white. And a little scary. But together with his strength his aversion to them left him. He no longer touched them reluctantly, but steadily and fast as if he had not been doing anything else his whole life.
There were many soldiers he did not recognise. The few days they had been riding together had not been enough to get to know everyone. Looking down at the pale bodies, Faramir was glad it was so.
A brief philosophical thought of dependency on the qualities of a good leader and cold-heartedness crossed his mind, but he did not pay much attention to it. Although the idea was highly engaging, the horrid images his brain still contained were too strong to allow non-emotional thought.
Boromir's comfort was of great help though. He imagined a great carved box, then he put all his worries and senseless thoughts into it and shut it. Only tiredness remained then.
Faramir looked down at his own hands. They were grey, not so different from the corpses he had touched before. He felt grey from weariness.
Thankfully there was not so much to do. There were still more of those who had survived and the pile of bodies was becoming smaller. Although several men had already sent him away to get a little sleep, Faramir did not have any intention to leave before the eerie work was finished. In his humbled and scared heart it was the only way how to pay the last respect.
When he entered the tent he shared with Tiris later it was almost deep night and his companion was already tucked in his blanket. Faramir could tell that Tiris was not sleeping, but if his friend chose to ignore him, he could live with it. He reasoned bitterly. Under other circumstances he would have cared, but not tonight. His entrails were still twisting from the horrid images planted in his mind. His own weariness was keeping him from fighting them. So he only grunted in Tiris direction and lay down. The instant he closed his eyes, sleep took him.
* * *
* * *
Siberia-hmmm not only soldiers like Faramir ;P, but thank you
tHe InSaNe One-I wonder whether you will say the same about Denethor after the last chapter (provided it would go the way I wish, though i can be never too sure, Boromir is sometimes just so damn stubborn and doesn't want to do what I tell him). Since I am not you Faramir won't get hurt, you will have to wait a little longer for Denethor to show what's in him! :)
Acacia-Thank you thank you I am glad that you noticed that Tiris is such a strange guy, I have to admit that I am really very fond of him. :)
Shlee Verde-hmmm a new name here I see, that is a good sign I deem :) Yeah, Boromir&Faramir are great and if you want to read something really great, then I can say only one name- Dwimordene. She is the greatest!
Alex-I like Tiris as well and what his fate will be I am not sure, but he won't die, not yet at least.
I thank you everyone who encouraged me and told me one way or another that he/she likes the story, EVERY comment (criticising especially) is welcome!
If you have any questions or didn't like something, just drop me a line I will surely respond. Constructive criticism is more than welcomed.