uFARAMIR THERAPY SESSION 5/u
For once in his life as a Ranger Faramir was at a loss. He knelt by Simbel, Julie lying in his arms, her breathing shallow and fast and her eyes closed. The streets of Osgilliath were now silent as the sun began to sink, sending shafts of orange glowing through splits in the stonework of the city. It reminded Faramir of the artificial lamps in the street where the therapist lived.
He gently manoeuvred himself so that he could examine her back, and gritted his teeth as he began to work the cruel point of the goblin arrow out of her skin. It was only when he had removed it and pried the thick wool of her jumper away from the wound that he could see for sure how bad her injury was.
The skin was angry and the puncture was deep - he could tell despite the fact that a constant torrent of blood welled from the small hole. As Faramir carefully tore a strip from the bottom of Julie's shirt and dabbed at the lesion she gave a cry and he felt her whole body tense. "Hush, Miss Julie it's all right. Lie still and I will clean and bind the wound."
But she didn't relax, and a movement of shadow in the corner of his eye made the Ranger's head whip round. He gave the low call of a bird of Ithilien, hoping to hear a reply from Mablung. Several minutes passed and all that Faramir heard as he stared intently into the gathering gloom was the occasional whimper of the therapist. It was only as he felt the leg of his breeches begin to glow with the sweaty, thick heat of spilled blood that he swore and turned his attention back to the therapist's wound.
Faramir was used to binding and cleaning others' wounds. His men had joked that he was untouchable - it was always him cleaning up them, never the other way around. His practised fingers wound a strip of cloth taken from his saddlebag around Julie's torso and he very carefully lifted her back into a sitting position. He wasn't entirely confident that the wound was unpolluted yet - the arrow had dug deep and it had not been at all clean.
The ground was cold, the old paving stones now devoid of the moss they had once harboured - the fires of Mordor had seen to that. Faramir held the therapist closely and she clutched his cloak. She still didn't speak, but her eyes were open and she murmured to herself. Faramir gazed up at the sky, wishing the clouds would clear to let the stars out. He sighed, his fingers absent-mindedly toying with Julie's ponytail for comfort.
Faramir awoke with a horrible feeling. It wasn't that the cold stone was uncomfortable against his back, nor that he could feel the blood escaping Julie's wound again, not even that an arrow was poised atop his larynx. He had fallen asleep and he cursed himself for it.
A group of five stooped goblins surrounded them, each one armed with a crude bow and serrated blades. Faramir measured the scene in one glance and knew that he would be able to overpower them given the right circumstances, but those were not now.
"Get up, humans!" growled the orc whose arrow was closest to Faramir. Julie seemed to be unconscious.
"My companion is wounded," he said softly, gesturing towards the therapist. "May I see to her injury before you take us where ever you will?"
Several of the creatures laughed. "Take you where ever we will? And what makes you think we're not just gonna shoot you here, lying in the street like bugs under a cart wheel?"
"Because you asked us to stand," the Ranger replied boldly, determined that after letting himself fall asleep he had to prove that he was not losing control. But he was so tired.the war continued day after day and his father's insults wore him down. He was nearly overwhelmed for a moment by the desire to just collapse back into sleep upon the ground and let what ever was to happen, happen.
The orc leader seemed vaguely amused by the audacity of his prisoner and let Faramir re-bind Julie's wound. It didn't appear to him, however, that the clean cloth was sufficient treatment, for the skin was red and raw, and the scab was not hard. He asked permission to clean it, but his own sword was laid in restraint upon his reaching arm by one of the goblins.
When the group began to move out, it was with two orcs at the front of the party, followed by Faramir, who carried Julie, behind whom came three more orcs. The creatures were all small and wiry - mountain-dwellers brought south from Moria by the call of Sauron. None were particularly tall, and Faramir could see easily over the heads of those in front of him.
They were walking back the way he had brought the therapist yesterday and there was no sign of the horses. The orcs were in no hurry - the sun was rising and they kept to the shadows of the buildings, grumbling amongst themselves about timetables. They stopped at the edge of Osgilliath just after midday, reluctant to enter the greenness of Ithilien during the day. Faramir chose a spot just in the sun to sit and he was permitted to check Julie's wound again before his wrists and ankles were bound.
He was challenging himself not to fall asleep in the warm afternoon sun when a voice full of pain ensured that he wouldn't drop off. "Faramir, where are we?"
The therapist had pulled herself into a sitting position, her back against the wall. She didn't look comfortable though, and her knuckles were white as she scraped her nails on the stone, willing her hands not to clench into fists.
He was so shocked to see her alert that he did not stop to wonder that the orcs had not bound her, trusting that she would not be a menace. "We-we're still in Osgilliath," he stammered, gazing at her with awe. "How are you feeling? I was not sure you would ever wake again!"
She looked a little bemused, "I don't think I'm too good, Faramir, but I am awake. What's happened? Who are these? I'm guessing that one isn't Mablung." She had gestured to the head orc, and Faramir smiled a little - in stature and build the creature was the complete opposite to his second- in-command.
She looked haggard and ill, but her attempt at light-heartedness reassured him a little. "I fell asleep last night. I'm sorry. Of all the nights to lose myself it had to be - "
"It's okay, Faramir, don't blame yourself. From what you've told me about life here, and from what I've witnessed - " she gave a rueful smirk. "You had every excuse to fall asleep last night."
Finally overcoming his surprise - and joy - he glanced to Julie's unbound hands. "Miss Julie, could you discreetly undo my bonds? I think I can overpower our captors now that the sun is high."
She nodded, obviously confused about his mentioning the sun in relation to the orcs, but willing to help. Wincing, the therapist edged closer to him and reached across to undo the bonds binding his hands. She used her once perfect nails to pick at the frayed rope, the polish on them chipping and the edges beginning to split.
None of the orcs had looked over at them since they had stopped, and the two nearest to them were huddled in a shadow, gripping their weapons feverishly and snarling to each other through slitted eyes. Consequently, neither of them stood a chance when a full-grown Gondorian man at his most youthful in exuberance and strength bowled into them from a hunkered sprint. As he did so, retrieving his sword from the hands of one whilst rolling over them and trailing it enough so that it sliced a gash across the thighs of the orc who'd held it.
The other orcs sat by and watched the head of one and the black blood of another of their comrades' fall across the stones before they arranged their wits sufficiently to act. Another was felled as he reached for his arrow, the next as he raised his. The one remaining saw Faramir coming and turned his bow away from the man and towards the hunched figure of Julie. The Gondorian changed his course and gave a controlled grunt as the arrow glanced off his shoulder, clattering to the ground at the same time as the body of the last goblin.
Faramir, breathing heavy with adrenaline, let his sword-arm lower, and turned to face Julie, a grim expression on his face. She didn't look up at him though, and he longed for the reaction he had hoped to get - relief, shock, awe, comfort. Instead it was he giving the comfort once more as her head tilted forwards onto her chest, and her strength withdrew from her, leaving her to fall side wards onto the paving. Once more, he rushed to her side, every limb feeling as though it were weighted down. He brushed his fingers along her neck, feeling for a pulse.
She hadn't been hit again, but her final reserves of energy seemed to have given out. He wondered whether he hadn't just imagined all that had happened from his capture until now, wondered whether this was a dream, and whether he would wake up soon, the horses snuffling at the stones, hoping for food, and Julie lying across him, sleeping soundly before he re-bound her wound.
Even as the cry of a bird of Ithilien broke the muggy air and Julie's pulse gave out, tears began to roll down Faramir's dusty cheeks.
For once in his life as a Ranger Faramir was at a loss. He knelt by Simbel, Julie lying in his arms, her breathing shallow and fast and her eyes closed. The streets of Osgilliath were now silent as the sun began to sink, sending shafts of orange glowing through splits in the stonework of the city. It reminded Faramir of the artificial lamps in the street where the therapist lived.
He gently manoeuvred himself so that he could examine her back, and gritted his teeth as he began to work the cruel point of the goblin arrow out of her skin. It was only when he had removed it and pried the thick wool of her jumper away from the wound that he could see for sure how bad her injury was.
The skin was angry and the puncture was deep - he could tell despite the fact that a constant torrent of blood welled from the small hole. As Faramir carefully tore a strip from the bottom of Julie's shirt and dabbed at the lesion she gave a cry and he felt her whole body tense. "Hush, Miss Julie it's all right. Lie still and I will clean and bind the wound."
But she didn't relax, and a movement of shadow in the corner of his eye made the Ranger's head whip round. He gave the low call of a bird of Ithilien, hoping to hear a reply from Mablung. Several minutes passed and all that Faramir heard as he stared intently into the gathering gloom was the occasional whimper of the therapist. It was only as he felt the leg of his breeches begin to glow with the sweaty, thick heat of spilled blood that he swore and turned his attention back to the therapist's wound.
Faramir was used to binding and cleaning others' wounds. His men had joked that he was untouchable - it was always him cleaning up them, never the other way around. His practised fingers wound a strip of cloth taken from his saddlebag around Julie's torso and he very carefully lifted her back into a sitting position. He wasn't entirely confident that the wound was unpolluted yet - the arrow had dug deep and it had not been at all clean.
The ground was cold, the old paving stones now devoid of the moss they had once harboured - the fires of Mordor had seen to that. Faramir held the therapist closely and she clutched his cloak. She still didn't speak, but her eyes were open and she murmured to herself. Faramir gazed up at the sky, wishing the clouds would clear to let the stars out. He sighed, his fingers absent-mindedly toying with Julie's ponytail for comfort.
Faramir awoke with a horrible feeling. It wasn't that the cold stone was uncomfortable against his back, nor that he could feel the blood escaping Julie's wound again, not even that an arrow was poised atop his larynx. He had fallen asleep and he cursed himself for it.
A group of five stooped goblins surrounded them, each one armed with a crude bow and serrated blades. Faramir measured the scene in one glance and knew that he would be able to overpower them given the right circumstances, but those were not now.
"Get up, humans!" growled the orc whose arrow was closest to Faramir. Julie seemed to be unconscious.
"My companion is wounded," he said softly, gesturing towards the therapist. "May I see to her injury before you take us where ever you will?"
Several of the creatures laughed. "Take you where ever we will? And what makes you think we're not just gonna shoot you here, lying in the street like bugs under a cart wheel?"
"Because you asked us to stand," the Ranger replied boldly, determined that after letting himself fall asleep he had to prove that he was not losing control. But he was so tired.the war continued day after day and his father's insults wore him down. He was nearly overwhelmed for a moment by the desire to just collapse back into sleep upon the ground and let what ever was to happen, happen.
The orc leader seemed vaguely amused by the audacity of his prisoner and let Faramir re-bind Julie's wound. It didn't appear to him, however, that the clean cloth was sufficient treatment, for the skin was red and raw, and the scab was not hard. He asked permission to clean it, but his own sword was laid in restraint upon his reaching arm by one of the goblins.
When the group began to move out, it was with two orcs at the front of the party, followed by Faramir, who carried Julie, behind whom came three more orcs. The creatures were all small and wiry - mountain-dwellers brought south from Moria by the call of Sauron. None were particularly tall, and Faramir could see easily over the heads of those in front of him.
They were walking back the way he had brought the therapist yesterday and there was no sign of the horses. The orcs were in no hurry - the sun was rising and they kept to the shadows of the buildings, grumbling amongst themselves about timetables. They stopped at the edge of Osgilliath just after midday, reluctant to enter the greenness of Ithilien during the day. Faramir chose a spot just in the sun to sit and he was permitted to check Julie's wound again before his wrists and ankles were bound.
He was challenging himself not to fall asleep in the warm afternoon sun when a voice full of pain ensured that he wouldn't drop off. "Faramir, where are we?"
The therapist had pulled herself into a sitting position, her back against the wall. She didn't look comfortable though, and her knuckles were white as she scraped her nails on the stone, willing her hands not to clench into fists.
He was so shocked to see her alert that he did not stop to wonder that the orcs had not bound her, trusting that she would not be a menace. "We-we're still in Osgilliath," he stammered, gazing at her with awe. "How are you feeling? I was not sure you would ever wake again!"
She looked a little bemused, "I don't think I'm too good, Faramir, but I am awake. What's happened? Who are these? I'm guessing that one isn't Mablung." She had gestured to the head orc, and Faramir smiled a little - in stature and build the creature was the complete opposite to his second- in-command.
She looked haggard and ill, but her attempt at light-heartedness reassured him a little. "I fell asleep last night. I'm sorry. Of all the nights to lose myself it had to be - "
"It's okay, Faramir, don't blame yourself. From what you've told me about life here, and from what I've witnessed - " she gave a rueful smirk. "You had every excuse to fall asleep last night."
Finally overcoming his surprise - and joy - he glanced to Julie's unbound hands. "Miss Julie, could you discreetly undo my bonds? I think I can overpower our captors now that the sun is high."
She nodded, obviously confused about his mentioning the sun in relation to the orcs, but willing to help. Wincing, the therapist edged closer to him and reached across to undo the bonds binding his hands. She used her once perfect nails to pick at the frayed rope, the polish on them chipping and the edges beginning to split.
None of the orcs had looked over at them since they had stopped, and the two nearest to them were huddled in a shadow, gripping their weapons feverishly and snarling to each other through slitted eyes. Consequently, neither of them stood a chance when a full-grown Gondorian man at his most youthful in exuberance and strength bowled into them from a hunkered sprint. As he did so, retrieving his sword from the hands of one whilst rolling over them and trailing it enough so that it sliced a gash across the thighs of the orc who'd held it.
The other orcs sat by and watched the head of one and the black blood of another of their comrades' fall across the stones before they arranged their wits sufficiently to act. Another was felled as he reached for his arrow, the next as he raised his. The one remaining saw Faramir coming and turned his bow away from the man and towards the hunched figure of Julie. The Gondorian changed his course and gave a controlled grunt as the arrow glanced off his shoulder, clattering to the ground at the same time as the body of the last goblin.
Faramir, breathing heavy with adrenaline, let his sword-arm lower, and turned to face Julie, a grim expression on his face. She didn't look up at him though, and he longed for the reaction he had hoped to get - relief, shock, awe, comfort. Instead it was he giving the comfort once more as her head tilted forwards onto her chest, and her strength withdrew from her, leaving her to fall side wards onto the paving. Once more, he rushed to her side, every limb feeling as though it were weighted down. He brushed his fingers along her neck, feeling for a pulse.
She hadn't been hit again, but her final reserves of energy seemed to have given out. He wondered whether he hadn't just imagined all that had happened from his capture until now, wondered whether this was a dream, and whether he would wake up soon, the horses snuffling at the stones, hoping for food, and Julie lying across him, sleeping soundly before he re-bound her wound.
Even as the cry of a bird of Ithilien broke the muggy air and Julie's pulse gave out, tears began to roll down Faramir's dusty cheeks.