Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.
The day following the fiasco of the banquet, I was again hard at work in the Houses of Healing. There were still some soldiers in the wards, mostly victims of burns who were still recovering. They were slowly but surely regaining their health. There were dressings to change, wounds to drain and other equally unsavory procedures the patients detested having done and I had not the stomach for right now, truth be known.
I do not understand how I can be inured to revolting and disgusting sights all the time, but now, while I am with child, I am vomiting constantly. I have been sick over nothing and over sights I have seen and dealt with thousands of times before. I was not this sick when expecting Tristin. It had been many years ago, but a woman does not endure retching her guts out and not remember it. I was sure to remember this pregnancy—and not necessarily because of the physical misery of it, either.
I have put off one unsavory chore for longer than is wise. I must tell this baby's father that he and I did more than just share a night of passion. We created life. I am scared to death. And Aragorn? I knew not what emotion he might have. I feared the worst.
During our night together he had been caring and kind. We neither held false beliefs that the other had developed love or some equally strong emotion for the other as the result of our tryst. He had been tender with me and cared for my welfare. He had mourned fallen friends and had shown fear for those that would follow him in battle. Why would I think he might have changed, simply because he now wore a crown?
That was the reason—he wore a crown. Power did things to people. It corrupted the seemingly incorruptible. It made tyrants out of lambs. The smiles which might be beamed at those he would govern before all the pomp and circumstance, could turn to sneers of disgust for such lowly men after the crown was firmly in place.
Would Aragorn have changed? I do not know. But the thought scares me just the same.
I feel that I really should not put this off much longer, but I have no idea how he will react. Will he want to send me away? Or perhaps pay me to leave and never set foot in Gondor again? Or ask if I, being a healer, knew of any way to dispose of our little problem? Valar, I was petrified. And I had no one—no one—to talk to about this.
I decided to go to my rooms. I felt nauseous again and I did not want to raise suspicions here in the wards any more than they already were. As it is, I have already had a couple of inquiries as to the state of my health, so I know I am treading on thin ice. I called to Ioreth on my way out, leaving the wards in her capable hands.
She was still unmoved by anything I said or did to give me any ground in our war for control of the Houses of Healing. She spoke to me when she needed to, and only then in the most sarcastic of voices. Most of the other aides had gradually come to give me my due respect. After they saw the 'miracle' of my saving Halen, the choking boy three months ago, the aides had loosened up somewhat. Some were even showing signs of being interested in becoming fully trained healers themselves. Normally I would have been elated at their enthusiasm, wanting to further their interest by teaching them whatever they wished to learn. But my mind was so overwhelmed with panic, that my brain allowed nothing else to enter my thoughts.
I reached my room and the doorknob gave its usual groan as I turned it. I would like to find some oil somewhere and give it a good going over. There was enough groaning in my life, from patients as well as from myself lately. I had no need to also hear complaints from my door.
Perhaps the smithy down the street would have some oil and would maybe spare me a drop or two. Last week I removed a sliver of metal from one of his eyes. Maybe he would consider that payment enough. I hope he does. I truly want this doorknob silenced, if possible.
However, I have no coin at all. None. The wage I should have been earning has been nonexistent for the last few months. The aides and I have been living on victuals brought to the infirmary by the kitchen help. When they feed the soldiers in the barracks, they bring enough for us to distribute among the wounded, to those who can eat a meal. There is usually enough to feed the aides and me as well. The sustenance isn't much, but at least it is free. We are all thankful for that.
As I entered my room, I turned and closed the door, stopping for a moment to rest my forehead against the cool wood. Another wave of nausea overtook me. Please stay down, lunch. I wish not to have to see you a second time today.
But it was not to be. I just made it in time to my chamber pot that had taken up permanent residence on a table just inside the door. Thanks be the room is small.
As I rinsed my mouth and the chamber pot again for at least the third time today, I began to cry. Weeping and retching seem to be the things I am best at lately.
I gave in to self-pity. My life has become a source of misery for me. If I am not retching, I am crying. And if I am not crying, I am overwhelmed with fear. I must tell Aragorn about the child I carry before I drive myself over the brink into insanity.
But what do I tell him? How do I say to the King of Gondor that he is about to be put into a very precarious personal - as well as social - position only weeks since his coronation? Will he have to speak to his advisers of this? What will he say to his future bride? What will she say to him? Or to me? So many questions and no answers forthcoming. And no answers will be given until the problem is disclosed.
I sat down at my little table in the center of my room and lay my head on my arms. I sobbed. I was so tired. So very tired.
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The next thing I knew I was waking up with my arms asleep and my eyes nearly stuck shut with dried tears. Slowly I lifted my head and sat up. I will think of this no more today.
Of course that is easier said than done. I had to get out of here and clear my mind. I glanced at my appearance in the mirror above the washstand and found it to be sorely lacking—lacking color and lacking anything except an expression of woe and despair. I ran a wet cloth over my face, paying special attention to my eyes. I took a deep breath, looking away from my reflection in the mirror. Funny, it was hard to look at my image lately. Shame, perhaps? Probably.
I left my room and headed down the hallway leading to the Houses of Healing. I passed the door that would take me into the wards and exited from the front hallway. I looked each direction, up and down the street, mentally tossed a coin, and decided to go to the right.
It was amazing how clear the sky had become since the fall of Sauron. The sun was such a welcome sight and it touched my face with warmth. It felt good. It never ceased to amaze me how we take for granted that which is commonplace most of the time, until it is denied us. I would never take fresh air and sunshine for granted again.
I walked along with my mind going at a furious rate, again thinking of that which antagonized me day and night. I thought I told you not to think of this any more today!
I was lost in thought and I did not see Faramir approaching. I almost passed him by and that would have been most rude. He had stopped as I advanced, obviously about to share a few pleasantries with me before I continued down the street. He reached out to me as I drew even with him, to get my attention. It was this action of his which saved me. I had not seen him, as immersed in misery as I was.
"Maeren, may I be of some assistance to you?" he asked, concerned. "I think you may not be well from your sickness of last night."
I jumped at the sudden startlement of his voice and realized the social blunder I had almost made. Valar, another social blunder!
"Faramir," I said breathlessly. "Please forgive me. I was not paying attention. Thanks be I was not walking toward a wall! I most assuredly would have broken my nose."
He chuckled, then said quite lightly, "Maeren, why the frown? The sun is shining and there is a pleasant breeze. What troubles you on such a fine day?"
I almost blurted out my problem. What was I thinking?
"Nothing, truly, Faramir. I suppose I was thinking of how embarrassing my little display was at the banquet last night. I had not even wished to be there in the first place, but was summoned by Royal Invitation, so I had no choice in the matter."
Faramir looked at me guiltily. "It was I who made sure an invitation was sent to you, Maeren. I thought you should get out some—you have been cooped up in the wards for much too long, and truthfully, it seems to have taken a toll on your health. I thought so before, but after last night, I am sure of it. I am sorry if I have overstepped the boundaries of our friendship. I meant well."
"Faramir," I said, "I truly thank you for your concern, but there is nothing wrong. I am simply, as you surmised correctly, working too hard and not resting enough. I will be well as soon as I get more rested. There are still wounded soldiers in the wards, you know."
"And that is what aides are for," Faramir admonished.
"Speaking of the aides," I said, thankful for a change of subject, "they are sorely in need of their wages. It disturbs me greatly. The aides have families who truly need those wages on which to live. It was fortuitous that I ran into you this afternoon. I had been planning to discuss this with you for a while now, but other things kept intruding on my time."
"Well, you have my attention now. Why do we not go back to my office and discuss this problem? I confess, I have been neglecting my duties as far as the Houses of Healing are concerned," he said apologetically. "My only excuse would be that the running of a city and country are overwhelming to a ranger of Ithilien."
Faramir seemed to have stepped into his duties as Steward of Gondor with ease. He had been the consummate soldier, Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien. Now he was the Steward, helping the King in overseeing all the government of Gondor. The change in his roles, and his ease of transition, was amazing to behold. His critical comment on himself just was not true.
We had many talks when he was recovering from his encounter with the Black Breath and his shoulder wound. After our initial meeting, it had become much easier to get him to open up to me. I felt that he had needed someone to confide in for quite a while. He told me he used to have long talks with Boromir, his older brother. But after they had both been assigned to their respective duties, they rarely got the chance to meet, much less talk at any length. Faramir and I had grown to be friends, then. While he still knew little of me or my life, I felt like I had come to know him pretty well.
We turned and walked back the way from which he had come. We were silent as we entered the hall and walked the short way to his office. He opened the door and went in, nodding to his secretary, a man by the name of Doren, as he passed to sit at his desk. He motioned me to a chair positioned across from him.
"Again, allow me to apologize," Faramir said. "I admit that the Houses of Healing have not been in the forefront of my mind." He began to rifle through papers that were in neat piles on his desk. He was about to call to his secretary when the man magically appeared to his right, handing him a ledger. Looking at Doren quizzically, Faramir thanked him, and set the book on the desktop, turning the pages until he found the one he wanted.
"Ah, yes," he said. "The aides are owed quite a bit of back wages. As are you, Maeren. I will see to rectifying this immediately. I would have expected Lord Jeneson to inform me of this oversight. I must speak to him about his dereliction of duty."
He gave me a devilish glance, "Lord Jeneson is quite the character, is he not? I would much prefer to have someone, say, such as you, behind the desk in his office." He closed the book and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together behind his head. "Now, tell me, how is your life since things have begun to get back to normal?"
Oh Valar, no! Do not let me weep! Please do not let me weep!
But as they had a habit of doing lately with the least provocation, my tears started flowing before I could even grab my hankie. Faramir leaned forward, concern crossing his face. He then stood, walked over to Doren and sent him on some errand, insuring our privacy. He then came to my side, and squatting to face me at eye level, he placed his fingers on my chin, guiding my face toward his so that he may have a clearer look at me.
In a quiet and soothing voice he said, "Maeren, what is it? Please talk to me. I should have known it was more than just past wages concerning you. You have not looked right for a while now. Every time we have met lately, I have become increasingly aware that you look as if you are under some great strain. And not only that, you seem to be wasting away before my very eyes. Please tell me what is wrong. Perhaps I can help."
"I think you could not help with this, Faramir," I wept. "It is a personal problem of great magnitude and I know not what to do. And I am too ashamed to tell anyone about this."
"Maeren, I feel as though we have come to know each other pretty well—and as friends. All the time we spent together as I recovered from my sickness served in our getting to know one another. I promise you, whatever this is, it will go no further. You have no reason to fear that this will become common knowledge. Please trust me, Maeren."
Faramir looked so sweet and caring, my tears only increased. He then gathered me into his arms, pulling me up to stand with him. He drew me into an embrace, hugging me, until my sobs began to ease. I finally stopped crying and pulled myself together. He reached into his pocket and gave me his handkerchief, which I accepted gratefully.
"I am so embarrassed for bawling like an infant," I started. Then I realized what I had said and another spate of tears fell down my face. He sat me back down and dragged his chair around his desk to be near mine.
"Think nothing of it," he said. "Come now; please continue."
I began haltingly. Did I really wish to discuss this with him? I must speak of it to someone or I feared I would go mad. I needed advice and comfort so badly. I decided to trust him and reveal my secret.
"I am with child." There is nothing like bluntness, but I knew if I did not get right to the point I would lose my courage.
To say he looked stunned would have been an understatement. He licked his lips, trying to decide what to say to me. He had apparently not expected this particular revelation. After a few tense moments, he said, "Maeren, this is not necessarily bad news." His voice was forced, as if he really didn't mean what he was saying. "I think it is very pleasant news. A new life is always welcome, whether it is convenient or not."
"But you do not know the half of it," I practically wailed.
He took my hands in his, trying to calm me down, and said, "Take a deep breath and tell me the other half of it." He smiled, and I couldn't help but smile back through my tears.
"I know not how to say it. I have been thinking of nothing but this ever since I became aware of it, but speaking it out loud somehow makes it all too real. I suppose I have been trying to deny it on some level. But the time is short in how much longer it can be denied." I looked down, ashamed.
He again touched my face, forcing me to look him in the eyes.
"How long have you known?" he asked me.
"For well over a month," I replied. "I am about three months along."
"I know not much about these sorts of matters, but even I suspect time does grow short."
I lifted his kerchief to my eyes and silently wept again. But I had someone to listen and perhaps give me guidance, so I quickly gave Faramir my attention again.
"Am I wrong when I think there must be more to this story, Maeren? You can tell me; I'll not judge you."
Gathering my courage, I said, "The baby's father is someone you know quite well. In fact, you work for him." I looked down and then back up at Faramir. "It is Aragorn." My voice had trailed off, almost whispering the name.
I was tempted to reach out to grab him. I was afraid the shock was going to make him faint and fall from his chair. He paled and actually gaped at me. I began to weep again. Blast these tears! I am so sick of them!
I should never have told him. He is going to have to reveal this to Aragorn himself. Faramir will never be able to look at me in the same way again. I will have lost one of the few friends I have in here in Minas Tirith. He will be ashamed of me, as I am of myself.
He got up from his chair and walked to a table next to his desk where stood a decanter and glasses. He poured himself a small amount of what appeared to be brandy. Tossing that back, he wiped his hand across his mouth and again looked at me. For a moment I feared he would question my integrity, in naming the King as my consort. But Faramir, being the true friend that he was turning out to be, believed me without any doubt.
"You have left me speechless," he said. "Not because I find you lacking in any way—I will never think ill of you." He poured himself another swallow of brandy. He turned around toward me. His face was a mask of confusion. He finally said, "How and when did this happen?"
I had to have turned a hundred shades of red—my face grew hot. I again looked at my hands, which I had begun to wring in my lap.
He walked back to me then and said, "Forgive me. Forget I asked that. It is not my business."
He stood beside me, gazing into the room in general. "I have a million thoughts running through my mind and need to sort them out. As of now I know not what advice to give you. Let me think on it a while. Do not fear I will abandon you with this, because I will not. Neither will your news pass my lips to another soul."
I was physically and mentally drained. I wasn't really sure if revealing my secret to Faramir had been wise or not. I was beyond much feeling at all. I was exhausted and needed to be home. I rose and held my hand out to Faramir. "I am sorry to burden you with this, but I really believe you would have been informed of it sooner or later, and not necessarily by me."
He took my hand and kissed it. "Fear not, Maeren. We will decide the best course of action. Knowing Aragorn, he will be most gracious and will not take his responsibility lightly. Nor will he pretend that you are solely responsible in this. Our new King is honorable. All will be well."
I turned and walked toward the door, surprised when Faramir made to join me. "I think you are in need of an escort, Maeren," he said. "You look as if you will not make it two steps; certainly not all the way back to your home."
I thanked him and we left the office, walking back across the street to my room. When we reached my door, I turned the knob, and as always, it groaned. I turned back to Faramir and said, "I praise the Valar for giving you to me as a friend. Thank you for listening to me and thank you for helping me."
"You were a true friend to me first, Maeren," he said, giving me another hug. "I will get back to you soon and we can discuss what we will do about this little problem."
He smiled a beautiful smile. "I cannot help but be glad about this, though, even if it is somewhat awkward. A new life! That is marvelous indeed."
He then turned and walked away and I entered my room, closing my door.
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