Author's Note--No, this is not the last chapter (this thing just keeps growing and growing...), but it's been the hardest to write. I've started it three times, and thrown away two of them, which is why there's been such a delay, and it's the extremely wee hours of the morning as I finally finish it, so I hope you'll excuse any grammatical or spelling mistakes, as well as any unevenness of tone.
julifolo--Here you go. It's not the last chapter, but Faramir is in it, majorly.
Altariel--Now you have to write it.
Dawn was always the signal that the worst was coming, for after a night of hard marching, the first signs of light would send my captors scurrying for the shelter of deep forest cover, or an overhang or cave. There they would eat whatever passed for rations, laughing and joking and quarreling amongst themselves in their guttural voices, and when they were done, I became their main amusement. They never took their pleasure of me without a battle first, for my pride would not let me ever submit to them, though as the journey wore on, and I became weaker and weaker, the resistance became more token than effective. Still, a few gouged eyes, scratched faces and bruises taught them not to come to me one at a time--there were always a number of them, and they would hold me each in turn while the others had their fun.
So it was this time. I heard mocking orcish laughter, felt hands slip under the blanket I huddled under, and seize my wrists in a strong grasp, then suddenly a weight pinned my legs. I shrieked, and bucked, and tried to dislodge my captor, who was grunting to a companion of his. I felt my right hand brush the hilt of a weapon--a weapon!--but it was snatched away, and yanked above my head, along with the left. The orc who was holding me shouted something to his fellow, and the other shouted something back. Then he tried to shift his grip, so that he could hold my wrists in one hand, but when he did so, he lost hold of the left, which I promptly balled into a fist and planted into his right eye. He cried out, and lost his balance, and we both slid sideways onto the ground. My left shoulder and head hit, and there was dull pain from the first, and shooting, excruciating pain from the second. It dazed me for a moment, and that gave him all the time he needed to regain my other hand, and consolidate his hold on me. I felt the other orc fumble at my waist, and I began to shriek and struggle once more, but the first orc sat upon my legs, and I was pinned completely. At that point, my pride abandoned me, and the fear and helplessness came crashing in, and I started to weep and to beg to be left alone.
Strangely enough, the orc did nothing further to me, he simply continued to hold me down, and after a while the mocking voices of his company faded away, and were replaced by a single voice, a human voice speaking very quietly and insistently.
"Hethlin, wake up. Open your eyes and look at me. Heth, it's just me, the orcs are gone, wake up a little so I can have a look at you. It's all right, Heth, it's just a bad dream. There are no more orcs. Stop crying, Heth. You're safe, you have nothing to worry about." Over and over, these words, and variations on the same theme, until my struggles finally ceased.
The authoritative calm of the voice penetrated first, then the meaning of the words, and finally, the identity of the speaker.
"Captain?" I croaked hoarsely.
"That's right, Heth. It's just me." I opened my eyes blearily, the left one still crusted with dried blood, and saw that it was indeed Faramir sitting atop me, a state of being I'd often dreamed of, if not under quite these circumstances. Despite the calm of his voice, he was looking a bit flushed and breathless, and his right eye was swelling shut.
"There's my girl. That's better. Listen, Lorend and I are going to lift you up and put you on the bed, all right? I'm going to send for a healer, and we need to have you where he can look at you."
"Ruin the sheets," I whispered. He leaned closer.
"What did you say?"
"I'll ruin the sheets." This time it was more of a mutter. Faramir shook his head.
"I'm not worried about that, so don't you be. The sheets are not important, getting you fixed up is. Can I let you go now?"
"Aye, my lord." I was careful not to nod, since any motion of my head made me feel sick. He smiled, slowly released my hands, and gently raised himself off of me. Motioning to Lorend to take my feet, he moved around to my head, and carefully slid his arms beneath my shoulders, cradling my head against his chest. I groaned as the two of them lifted me, and carried me over to the bed, but I had to admit the mattress and pillow felt ever so good as they lowered me down.
"There, that has to feel better than the cold floor. Lorend, go to the Houses of Healing, and get a healer back here immediately. On your way out, ask the kitchen to send up some honey and tea. After you're done at the Houses, go on and get some sleep."
"Aye, Captain. Or my lord Steward. Or my lord Prince, or whatever we're calling you today."
"If you don't talk less, and walk more, you'll be calling me Morgoth." Lorend took the hint, and scurried.
"Oh, and Lorend?" He paused in his headlong flight.
"Yes, sir?"
"Thank you for watching over her last night."
"She's a Ranger. What else would I do?" And he resumed scurrying.
Faramir sat carefully on the bed beside me, leaned over and looked into my eyes. The worry line appeared, though his expression did not change from one of gentle concern. He placed a hand upon my forehead and it deepened. He examined the rip down the front of my tunic, and it assumed chasm-like proportions.
"Heth, did they rape you?" he asked quietly.
"Nay. Killed them instead."
"Lorend said there were three of them. Is that right?"
"Aye. All dead now."
"Valar, Heth, what happened?" He went to the washstand, found Lorend's kettle from the night before, took it to the fire, poked the fire up and set the kettle on the hook.
"It's hard to talk, sir." Dampening a towel in the wash basin, he brought it over, and sat down beside me again.
"Do the best you can. The basic facts will do."
"After the court, I went riding out the Anorien road. I wanted to think about things."
"I imagine that you did," Faramir said quietly, dabbing carefully at my temple with the towel.
I then gave him an extremely brief and emotionless description of the evening's events. He said nothing during my explanation, bringing the washbasin over to the bedside, and continuing to wash my face, but his mouth had the tight-held look it got when he was very angry, but not wanting to show it. After a bit, he went and got some of the warmed water from the kettle, and continued to clean me up. He was very gentle and careful, and I could tell he was doing a much better job than I had the night before, and got only a little bit of water on the pillow.
"I think this is going to need a stitch or two, but it's in your hair, so it won't show," he said after a while. I groaned a little, and he looked alarmed.
"Did I hurt you?"
"No, my lord, but I was just thinking. Stitches mean they'll have to cut a bit of my hair, and while it's growing out, I'll have a piece sticking out at the side as well as the back. If this keeps up I'm going to look like a hedgehog."
Faramir chuckled. "If that's the biggest worry on your mind, Heth, then I feel much better about you."
"It's not the biggest worry, it's just the only one I can do something about." He sobered immediately, and indicated my arm.
"I'm going to have a look at your arm now. These clothes are ruined, so I'm just going to slit the sleeves, if you don't mind."
"Don't care." He reached for my sword belt, and pulled the dagger, then used it to slice through the fabric, eyebrows raised at the ease with which he did so.
"You keep quite an edge on that, don't you?" I smiled a little.
"Father always said, take care of your weapons, and they'll take care of you."
"Indeed." I felt the cold air on my arm and shivered a little. Faramir looked at the wound, and frowned.
"Was there anything on the blade? This is weeping and swollen already, and you're fevered. Some of these southerners dip their blades in dung tea. Not poison, but gets the job done just the same."
"I don't know. It was too dark. I just pulled it out and threw it right back, like I told you."
"Oh, Heth, I would have spared you this, if I could have."
"I don't see how you could have. I'm the one decided to ride out."
"Ah, but I'm the Steward, and I should have known this sort of thing was going on."
He stroked the right side of my face gently for a moment, and I shivered again.
"Would you like the blanket?"
What I would have preferred was that he get on the bed and hold me and warm me that way, but I agreed that yes, the blanket would be appreciated, and he got it and tucked it around me. Then he threw more wood on the fire, and poked it up till it was roaring away merrily.
"There, it's a rather clammy day outside, but that should warm the place in a little bit. And the healer ought to be here soon. I'm afraid he's going to want to clean and probe that wound, Heth."
"It's all right, my lord. Better than losing the arm." He grimaced at that possibility. I looked at his face and suddenly realized something.
"I hit you!" He smiled.
"You more than hit me, you smote me with great force! I fear I'm going to have a black eye to match yours."
"Do I have a black eye?"
"Oh, yes. And getting blacker by the minute." I tried to remember about the details of my awakening, and blanched as I realized something.
"I almost got my hand on my sword!"
"Yes, you did," he agreed calmly.
"I could have killed you!"
"Possibly. You have become a much more dangerous person since first we met." He seemed more amused than anything else.
I reached up, and touched his temple, and my eyes filled up quite suddenly. "I could have hurt you, or killed you! You should have just left me where I lay, my lord! That was a foolish thing to do!" His hand covered mine, and patted it soothingly.
"I'm all right, Heth. And there was no way I was going to leave you injured on that floor. Beside, it wasn't quite that foregone a conclusion--I had leverage on you. Though the next time I ask Lorend to go for your blades, and he backs off instead, I'm going to have him pulled apart by Mumaks, or something equally creative. By the Valar, how did you get him so scared of you? Could you share your secret with me? I can see situations where it might come in handy." His easy banter calmed me, as he probably intended that it should. I hiccoughed a couple of times, and stopped crying.
"If I knew how I'd done it, I'd sell the secret. Probably get enough to actually do something with that land the King gave me."
Faramir became very still of a sudden. After a moment, he asked, "Heth, would you like me to speak to the King on your behalf?"
"About what?"
"North Ithilien, what else? I could insist."
"Who has it now?"
"Damrod, with Anborn as his lieutenant. Lorend's going to Mablung."
"They're all good men, my lord. Leave it lie. I would not have you anger the King because of me."
"But Heth--"
"Leave it, I said! I am already sworn to your uncle. It is done!" Faramir looked shocked at my vehemence, and I winced, for it hurt my head to speak so loudly.
"Heth," he said carefully, "If you do not wish it, I will not speak. But your future may not be as grim as you think. My uncle is the best of men."
"I think your uncle is the reason I'm not in Ithilien!" He started, and then gave me a somewhat grim look.
"What do you mean by that, Heth?"
"The other day, when he gave me Fortune, we went on a picnic. He's a very....likable man. Easy to talk to, for all his rank. I told him things, and the very next day, I found myself shipped off to Dol Amroth." I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, for I suddenly realized I was treading on treacherous ground.
"What sort of things did you tell him?"
"Personal things. What the orcs did to me, how I couldn't have children, that sort of thing." I knew how important Faramir's uncle was to him, and no matter how I felt about the man, did not want to drive a wedge between them by telling him what Imrahil had said about Eowyn. Not to mention his wanting Aragorn to command Faramir to marry me. "I think he may have told the King something that made him do this, but I'm not sure. Prince Imrahil seemed as surprised as I did at court, and he was nice to me afterwards. I just don't understand what's going on!"
"I cannot believe that Uncle would have told the King something he was told in confidence, Hethlin. Did you ask him to keep what he told you secret?" The grimness was still there, and it frightened me, for I did not want to be at odds with Faramir, particularly right now.
"He promised....what were his exact words.......he promised on his honor that he would not bandy what I told him abroad. But that's not the same as promising not to tell anyone, is it? He could have said that, and told just the King, and not been forsworn, couldn't he?"
Faramir pondered that for a moment, then finally and reluctantly nodded. "Yes, Heth, if that's what he said, he could in fact have told the King. I must speak to the two of them, and see if I can determine exactly what is going on here. You let me handle this, all right?"
"Aye, my lord." A knock at the door heralded the arrival of the healer, and the beginning of an hour of unpleasantness. I sat up leaning against Faramir, as the man cleaned and stitched my head, and gripped his hand tightly till I finally passed out, as the healer flushed and probed and flushed and scraped at my arm wound. He found a small scrap of cloth that had been borne into the wound by the tip of the dagger, and removed it. He also announced that the throwing knife had been very dirty, possibly even soiled with dung as Faramir had suggested. He poulticed the arm with herbs, and left packets with further doses and some very strong willowbark tea. I had a concussion, and rest was what was needed, he told Faramir, and Faramir tucked me back under the blanket, and promised that I would get it.
When I awoke sometime later, I was shivering, and Faramir was tucking another blanket around me. I noticed in passing that my arm was poulticed and bandaged, and that I was wearing a clean shirt and breeches. He'd apparently been very busy while I was unconscious.
"Don't you have a job, or something?" I asked him, teeth chattering a little. A look at the window showed a grey and rainy day outside, but the quality of the light indicated that it was well into the morning.
"I have a job, and I have a staff, and I suspect that everyone thinks I'm sleeping the party off right now."
"Did you get any sleep at all last night?" He was pouring me a cup of tea, and his face looked tired.
"A couple of hours. Lorend came for me at dawn. I wish he'd gone ahead and come sooner under the circumstances."
"You shouldn't be doing this, my lord. We're not at Henneth-Anun. You can call a carriage, and ship me off to the Houses of Healing."
"You don't need to go out in the rain, Heth, and somehow I don't think you want strangers touching you just now. The healer says you're not that badly hurt, if the arm doesn't fester. If we get the fever down, then bed rest is what you need, and you can do that anywhere. Unless you'd rather go to the Houses?"
"No, I'd rather stay here."
"There you have it then. Drink this." I did as he bade, and drank the willowbark, which was very strong, and very bitter, but it washed the bad tasting glue out of my mouth most effectively. I shuddered as I drained it to the dregs, and Faramir held out a second mug.
"Good girl. Here's your reward. Let's see if you can keep this down." And I almost laughed, despite the fact that my head would hurt horribly if I did, for when I sipped it, it was very sweet honeyed tea, which he had often fed me when I first came to the Rangers, and was ill. He then settled himself back into the chair, and I noticed that he had his mother's book in his hand.
"Now for a bed-time story." He started to read in Elvish, and I almost laughed again, for of course, it was the magic horse story. He smiled, and continued to read, and I just lay there and listened to the sound of his voice, and shivered, remembering all the other times he'd read to me during my sickness, when I would fall asleep to the sound of his voice. He had discovered over time, that if he read me to sleep, I almost never had bad dreams, so it became a sort of preventative medicine. And I realized, listening to him, that though I may not have consciously known I loved him before my confrontation with the Witch-King, my attachment to him went back much further than that, probably almost to the very moment he'd drawn me from the water. While it was true that in the beginning, it had probably been that attraction the sick feel for those who tend them, it had grown over time into a truer emotion. And though he would never be mine, I was not discontent, for my love was a kind man, and valiant and true, and my love for him did me credit. I had not given my affections to one who was unworthy.
So I lay there, and listened and shivered, and pondered with my poor, sore brain, and he came to the end of the story, and found me still awake.
"I appear to be losing my touch," he said with a smile.
"That's because princes are in bed-time stories, they don't read them."
"You're still cold. I'll fetch another blanket."
"Why don't you just pull your boots and slide under here instead? If you put another of those heavy blankets on me, I don't think I'll be able to breathe." He considered this for a moment, then nodded.
"It used to work on those icy nights in Ithilien. And I am tired." He went around to the left side of the bed, thereby putting me between his warmth and that of the fire, slipped his boots off, and slid between the sheets. He turned onto his side, presenting his back to me. "There you go, snuggle up now." And I did so, moving very slowly and carefully, till I had spooned up quite closely. Though it seldom snowed in Ithilien, the winter weather could be very cruel, and it had often been the custom on the coldest winter nights for the Rangers to pair up and share their blankets and body heat. When such occasions had arisen, my partner had always either been the Captain, or I slept alone and shivered, for Faramir did not want me circulating through the troop. And when we'd shared blankets, he'd always slept in the exact same position he'd assumed just now. It suddenly occurred to me that there might be a very good reason he did that, and I stifled a chuckle.
"What is it?" he asked drowsily. "Are you all right? Hopefully, that tea will start working soon."
"I am fine, my lord. Just remembering something. Go to sleep." Not more than a couple of minutes later, I heard that tiny, soft snore of his. A Ranger learned to sleep at a moment's notice, when he could and how he could, and apparently Faramir still kept that much of his skill. It took me a bit longer, but eventually, the warmth emanating from him and contained by the blankets penetrated me, and my shivering subsided, and the tea did begin to work, and my headache lessened. I buried my nose in his soft, black hair, cuddled as close as I possibly could, and fell deeply asleep.
There came a time, in my slumber, when I became aware of a voice speaking to me from a great distance, perhaps in Elvish, I thought, though I couldn't be sure, and I tried to answer, but couldn't seem to form the words. Then there was an veritable explosion of stars, and I seemed to be falling through them for a long while, till all went black suddenly, and I knew no more.
The next time I knew of anything, it was the sound of a number of voices, and they were speaking Westron and not Elvish. It slowly came to me that I was in my bed, and my hand lay in the empty spot where Faramir had been, and the voices were coming from near the fire, so they were behind my back. I did not know how long I had slept, but I did not feel refreshed at all--in fact, I felt as weary as if I'd been exercising heavily. But after a time, I realized that my fever was gone, my head no longer hurt at all, and my arm was at rest as well. I felt very much disinclined to move, so I lay quietly and listened to what was said.
"We had all our clothes on, Uncle--I don't see how anyone could think evil of it." That was Faramir, and he sounded respectfully exasperated.
"You or I would not, lad, nor would any person of reasonable intelligence and good will. Or anyone that knows you or the Lady Hethlin. But we are talking about courtiers here, and I hope you will not insult my intelligence by implying I have no knowledge of the sorts of mischief they can cause by taking an innocent incident and blowing it up all out of proportion. This is not Ithilien, and different rules apply. Had someone other than myself walked in on you, you might have found yourself having a very uncomfortable interview with Eomer and his sister right now." That was Prince Imrahil, and he sounded both reasonable and concerned.
"She asked me to. She had a chill. When you woke me up, she'd stopped shivering. Eowyn would understand. She and Hethlin are friends."
"Ah, but would Eomer? I venture to suggest that his view of such things is somewhat more....narrow. And I know him rather better than you do, nephew."
"And if you have no care for the lady's reputation, my lord Steward, do try to have a care for her heart. It is cruel of you to dangle such crumbs of friendship before her as you can spare." That voice, silky and smooth as brook water flowing over polished rock, was Prince Elrohir, and it took me a moment to realize that he sounded incredibly annoyed.
"I should like to know what interest you have in the lady, my lord Prince, that you believe you can call me to account." Faramir again, though this time his voice was ice, and put me much in mind of his father suddenly.
"Oh, nothing romantic, I assure you--though, betrothed as you are, my lord Steward, it is not your place to rebuke me if I did. Say rather that I went to some trouble to take a piece that had been removed from the game, and place it back on the board, and I don't like the way it's being played." I was shocked by the casual arrogance of that remark, and suddenly realized exactly what a gulf of years lay between me and Elrohir. He apparently regarded me as a sort of pet, or something the Valar had provided for his exclusive amusement. His attitude did not sit well with Prince Imrahil, either.
"Gentleman, this is a sickroom, not a brothel or a barn. I suggest that if it is your intention to quarrel, you take it somewhere else."
"Oh, the lady will not wake for a couple of hours yet, Prince Imrahil," Elrohir assured him airily. "After I healed her, I sent her into a deep sleep. Which she will need, as the body's healing processes have been hastened, and she will be feeling very weary." What I primarily felt, besides being tired, was a certain degree of satisfaction that I'd just disproved his omniscience. "I simply feel it my duty to point out to the Prince of Ithilien that he very much begins to resemble the proverbial donkey caught between the two full mangers, and it would be better for all concerned if he would simply choose."
"I am trying to recollect exactly what it is I've done to you that should cause you to be so wroth with me, my lord Elrohir." Faramir was still coldly furious. Elrohir laughed, and it was not a pleasant laugh, light and silvery as it was.
"Oh no, my lord Faramir, you do not get off so easily as that! You are, by all accounts, an extremely perceptive man. I hear tales everywhere of your wisdom, your ability as a commander, the way you can see into the hearts of your men. You cannot tell me that you do not know that Hethlin is in love with you. And knowing that, I do strongly take exception to your treatment of her, all the little underhanded ways you've sought to bind her to you emotionally while you court another woman, and particularly your crawling into bed with her. She is Estel's kinswoman, and that makes her mine by association, and it is as her kinsman I call you to account."
I wondered if the Valar, not to mention the King, would ever forgive me if I throttled Elrohir. I closed my eyes, and strove to compose myself. There was a long moment of silence.
"I am sorry you believe so ill of me, Prince Elrohir, but truly I did not know." Faramir's voice was quieter now. "I had thought Hethlin and I were good friends."
"Incredible! You truly are every bit as obtuse as you appeared to be?" This discovery baffled Elrohir considerably. "How is it that you could not know? Hethlin knows that you regard her only as a good friend. And she is indeed--the best you'll ever have, if you ask me. But she would be far more than that to you, if she could. And she hasn't hidden it particularly well, if you ask me." I lay seething furiously, and wondered if I could arrange for Elrohir to have an accident, one preferably involving Eagles--and great height.
"Uncle, did you know anything about this?"
"I suspected as much, when I brought you off of the field after the retreat. And Mablung and I discussed it on the way to the Black Gate." I promised myself a talk with Mablung as well before I left town. "The day before yesterday I asked her about it, and she admitted her affection for you. And yes, her desire was that you should never know about it." I got the impression that Elrohir was being given a disapproving stare.
"Hethlin thinks that you told the King about this, Uncle, and that is why she is being sent down to Dol Amroth."
"What? I did nothing of the kind, nephew, I swear it. I did tell Aragorn about her barreness, but only because he kept pressing me as to whether I knew if she had a young man she was interested in, or if I thought she would want me to arrange a marriage for her. And I would not have done that, had I not thought that she would very much dislike having to discuss such a matter with the King, which I feared would happen, should he pressure her to marry. But anything else she told me I kept in confidence, and that included her affection for you."
Faramir sighed tiredly. "It appears that absolutely everyone knew about this except for me."
"It happens that way sometimes, Faramir," his uncle said consolingly, "You were simply too close to see." Elrohir snorted, and Imrahil addressed him frostily.
"Have you something else to add, Prince Elrohir?"
"Only that if her barreness is the only impediment to her union with the Prince of Ithilien, my father might be able to mend it. He is the greatest healer on Middle-Earth after all. Does this change matters for you, son of Denethor?" Elrohir was still pushing things, I noted. Son of Denethor was hardly Faramir's favorite title, and I was sure Elrohir knew that.
"I am in love with the Lady Eowyn of Rohan, and have entered into a contract of betrothal with her, and as soon as it may be arranged, I intend to marry her." Faramir replied with quiet dignity, and I closed my eyes at the final death knell of my dreams. "As for Hethlin," and here his voice became extremely dry and ironic, " I would think that as her concerned kinsman, you would seek healing for her whether she were betrothed or not."
Elrohir ignored his tone. "And it is my intention to do so, as soon as I may. In the meantime, I'm going to have a little talk with Estel, and see about having her moved out of this hole, at the very least. Servant quarters, indeed!"
"I needs must speak with Aragorn as well," said Imrahil, and distress was plain in his voice. "The poor child must absolutely hate me! I must find out what his reasoning on this was."
"I had promised Hethlin that I would determine what was going on," Faramir said. "Perhaps you should leave this to me, Uncle."
"I think you should all three go and speak to the King, and let me get some sleep," I said with what I felt was remarkable calm under the circumstances, and I sat up slowly and faced them. Had the situation been other than what it was, I might have been amused at the sight of three intelligent, intuitive, perceptive princes caught flat-footed and embarrassed with their mouths wide open.
"You should not be awake!" Elrohir exclaimed, disbelief and indignation warring in his voice. I gave him a grim look.
"Do you not know by now that I do a great many things I should not be able to do, son of Elrond?" I felt the merest brush of his mind against mine for a moment, perhaps intending to calm me or make me sleep, and then something very peculiar happened. All my outrage at his meddling, and my embarrassment and grief seemed to rise up in me, and I pictured myself giving him a good, sound slap. Something seemed to leave me with an almost audible whoosh, and I sagged onto one arm. Elrohir staggered back a step and looked very surprised for a moment. Then the look became one of thoughtful comprehension.
"Of course. You speak with Eagles, and see through their eyes." He gave himself a little shake, while Faramir and Imrahil stared at him uncomprehendingly.
"You will find, Hethlin, that there are manners that govern such exchanges," he warned me.
"And as soon as I find someone who has them, Prince Elrohir, I shall endeavor to learn them." Somewhat to my surprise, this seemed to amuse him. He gave me one of his sideways, slanting looks, and his mouth curved up in a rakish smile. This was not the reaction I'd hoped for, so I clarified matters for him.
"Prince Elrohir. I am not ungrateful or unmindful of all you have done for me. But until you can look upon me as a person, and not some pawn on a gameboard to be moved about for your own amusement, I wish not to see you again." I indicated the door. "Please leave now."
I thought I saw a shadow of what might have been regret cross his face, and he gave me a peculiar, abrupt nod which was the first ungraceful move I'd ever seen him make, turned on his heel and left the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Faramir and Imrahil give each other disbelieving looks.
"My lord of Dol Amroth," I said, turning my attention to Prince Imrahil. He nodded a polite acknowledgment.
"Lady Hethlin."
"I have no quarrel with you, sir. I understand why it was that you told the King what you did."
"I am glad of that, lady, and glad I would be as well to have you in my household. But an oath made under duress is not binding, and if it is truly your will to go elsewhere, then I will release you."
"I must speak with the King, I think, if that is possible, before I make a final decision, my lord Prince. Would it suffice if I come to you after I have done so, and when I am feeling better, that we might discuss this further?"
"That would be wisest I think as well, Lady Hethlin," Prince Imrahil agreed, and he gave me a searching look with his sea-grey eyes as he bowed low.
"Your servant, my lady." And he departed, leaving me alone with his nephew.
"Actually, I think it's supposed to be the other way around." I said to the closed door after he had left. I rubbed my forehead wearily, and felt carefully at my left temple.
"Just as I thought. A hedgehog." I heard a peculiar sound and looked at Faramir, who was standing with his hands folded behind his back, and giving me an uncertain, narrow-eyed look with his head tilted to one side.
"You know, the main reason I never wanted you to know about this," I told him conversationally, "is so I'd never have to see you looking at me the way you're looking at me now. This is not your fault, Faramir, you've done nothing wrong, and it's not your problem."
He cleared his throat and spoke with some difficulty, it seemed. "I don't know how you can say that, Heth. I must have done something to make you think--"
"No, no you didn't. You never did. I did this all by myself, though for the longest time I didn't even know it was happening. Mablung warned me about it at the Causeway Forts. He saw it before I did. Do you want to know when I found out?" He nodded slowly.
"It was the Witch-King." He started a bit at that, and gave me a disbelieving look.
"Yes, the Witch-King. He went into my mind, and stripped it bare, and when he was offering me things to kill your uncle.....do you remember how I told you he offered to spare you?" Faramir nodded. "Did you never stop to think why that was?"
"I thought perhaps it was because I was your commander, or that we were friends." His voice was a little hoarse.
"Oh, no. He offered me riches, and power, and armies to command--and you, spared by Sauron to be mine in whatever way I wished. And when I realized that he'd been in the deepest recesses of my mind, and was offering what he knew I would most desire, it was then I knew I loved you." I looked at him, and his eyes were suspiciously bright, and I wondered why he should be on the verge of tears when my eyes were so dry. I drew up my knees, wrapped my arms around them, and set my chin upon them, turning away a little to give him some privacy.
"Actually, you may have helped to save me there. Perhaps in some deep corner of my mind, I came to doubt that such a thing of evil, that knew nothing of love, could promise the love of another to me. Or perhaps not. But it was while I was in the Grey Lands that I realized I could never let you know. I could not give you children, so I could not be your wife, and you would not have had me as your mistress. I told Mablung what was going on when Elrohir brought me back, and he made me promise, when he left for the Black Gate, that if Sauron prevailed, I would speak to you before the end, that perhaps we might have a little time together. But then we won the day, and you met Eowyn, and that was that."
"Oh, Heth." I wasn't watching him, but I heard his voice break. "It is a sad thing when someone as fine as you has to hope for the end of the world to find love."
"But that is what it would have taken." He did not try to deny it. "Will you tell me something, Faramir? Was there ever a time you thought about.....sleeping with me?"
"Yes." The answer came so swiftly, that I looked at him in surprise. He actually smiled back at me, seeming in some way to have been heartened by the question.
"Heth, I'm not made of stone. I've not had much experience of women, that's true. There was that.....lady Boromir bought me for my sixteenth birthday.." I choked at that mental image, and he looked at me sidelong. "No, you never did hear me tell that particular tale around the campfire! And I would appreciate it if it went no further! There were the other occasional encounters through the years. But it had been quite a while, and we were at war, and in peril of our lives every day. Of course I thought about it!"
"Was it because I was the only woman around? I mean, would anyone have done?"
"No! Did you see me heading off to the brothels when we went to Minas Tirith? Wouldn't I have done that if anyone would do?"
"I can't see you going to a brothel under any circumstances."
"I thank you for that." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What exactly is it you're wanting to know, Heth? I feel that you have a question you want answered, and we're at cross purposes here."
I gestured at myself. "I always thought that one of the reasons you never looked at me in that way was because you knew what I looked like, and you...didn't like it."
Comprehension lit his eyes. "Oh no, Heth, that wasn't what stopped me." Another quick answer, spoken with complete certainty. "What stopped me was that I was your commander, and I had saved your life, and I was your friend, and I knew that any or all of those reasons would make you agree if I asked you, whether you truly wished to or not."
This was both reassuring, and extremely frustrating. "By the Valar, I wish you'd been a little less principled, Faramir! You're probably the only person who could ever get past that. Now I'll go to my grave not knowing what it's like to sleep with anyone who isn't an orc!" I was deeply disappointed and irritated as well, but he looked at me gravely.
"I don't believe that, Hethlin. It's not as bad as you think it is, and it wouldn't matter a bit to anyone who cared about you. You will find the right person, and he will love you, and you'll see that it makes no difference at all."
"I don't know," I said slowly. "I don't think I'll ever love anyone else like I love you. I don't think there's enough of my heart left over." He very visibly flinched at that, and turned away from me, moving over to the fireplace, and staring into the flames.
"Please don't say that, Hethlin. I can't bear to think I've ruined your life."
"You haven't ruined my life, Faramir. I have known for some time that though I love you, I would never have you. Don't worry about me, and please don't blame yourself. I will have a good life. Everybody doesn't find true love, but people muddle along nonetheless."
Several moments passed in silence, the only sound the crackling of the flames. Then he said something completely unexpected.
"Rain. Rain after long drought." I recognized the voice, though I'd not heard it in a long while, and the hairs on my neck rose. I got up rather shakily and moved towards him. As I approached, he looked up, and as I expected, his eyes were wide and almost black, and looked right through me. He was shaking a bit, the dream had him hard.
"Rain in the desert. Unexpected. Grief as deep as the sea, then a yearning as boundless. Fire kindled, where all was cold. White birds, two white birds, flying together. Two swords in the East. Blood and death in the East. The Star of the North, many Stars of the North, all in a line. Love stronger than death. Love come back from death. Great pain, then great joy. Great joy in the morning." With a great shudder, he came back to himself, and I reached out a hand to steady him. He looked at me, confused.
"What happened, Heth?"
"You were dreaming."
"Was I? Valar, I haven't done that in a while!" He spent a moment trying to recollect what had happened. "I don't think it was the wave dream, was it?"
"No. This was a whole bunch of different things. New things. Swords, and birds, and rain. It made no sense whatsoever, as far as I could tell."
"Well! I thought I'd seen the last of that with the end of the war. I was just standing there, looking at the fire, and trying to think about the sort of fellow I thought might suit you, and the next thing you know, I'm spouting nonsense!" He gave me a rueful smile. "Don't hold it against me?" I felt a chill run down my spine, but managed to smile back.
"Never."
"Here," he chided me, suddenly realizing I was standing with him. "What are you doing out of bed? Get back in there right now!" He took my elbow, and helped me back in, and pulled the blankets up around me. There was sadness in his eyes as he looked down at me.
"I am so very sorry, Heth."
"You have naught to apologize for. I would not have missed loving you for the world, Faramir."
He looked down at me for a moment longer, then, rather to my surprise, bent down and gently kissed me on the lips. It was sweet, and soft, and swiftly over.
"I must go speak to the King, Heth. Get some rest."
"Aye, Captain." But in the end, I disobeyed his orders, and lay awake for sometime after he had gone, looking at the door through which he'd passed. And finally, the tears came--like rain after long drought.
julifolo--Here you go. It's not the last chapter, but Faramir is in it, majorly.
Altariel--Now you have to write it.
Dawn was always the signal that the worst was coming, for after a night of hard marching, the first signs of light would send my captors scurrying for the shelter of deep forest cover, or an overhang or cave. There they would eat whatever passed for rations, laughing and joking and quarreling amongst themselves in their guttural voices, and when they were done, I became their main amusement. They never took their pleasure of me without a battle first, for my pride would not let me ever submit to them, though as the journey wore on, and I became weaker and weaker, the resistance became more token than effective. Still, a few gouged eyes, scratched faces and bruises taught them not to come to me one at a time--there were always a number of them, and they would hold me each in turn while the others had their fun.
So it was this time. I heard mocking orcish laughter, felt hands slip under the blanket I huddled under, and seize my wrists in a strong grasp, then suddenly a weight pinned my legs. I shrieked, and bucked, and tried to dislodge my captor, who was grunting to a companion of his. I felt my right hand brush the hilt of a weapon--a weapon!--but it was snatched away, and yanked above my head, along with the left. The orc who was holding me shouted something to his fellow, and the other shouted something back. Then he tried to shift his grip, so that he could hold my wrists in one hand, but when he did so, he lost hold of the left, which I promptly balled into a fist and planted into his right eye. He cried out, and lost his balance, and we both slid sideways onto the ground. My left shoulder and head hit, and there was dull pain from the first, and shooting, excruciating pain from the second. It dazed me for a moment, and that gave him all the time he needed to regain my other hand, and consolidate his hold on me. I felt the other orc fumble at my waist, and I began to shriek and struggle once more, but the first orc sat upon my legs, and I was pinned completely. At that point, my pride abandoned me, and the fear and helplessness came crashing in, and I started to weep and to beg to be left alone.
Strangely enough, the orc did nothing further to me, he simply continued to hold me down, and after a while the mocking voices of his company faded away, and were replaced by a single voice, a human voice speaking very quietly and insistently.
"Hethlin, wake up. Open your eyes and look at me. Heth, it's just me, the orcs are gone, wake up a little so I can have a look at you. It's all right, Heth, it's just a bad dream. There are no more orcs. Stop crying, Heth. You're safe, you have nothing to worry about." Over and over, these words, and variations on the same theme, until my struggles finally ceased.
The authoritative calm of the voice penetrated first, then the meaning of the words, and finally, the identity of the speaker.
"Captain?" I croaked hoarsely.
"That's right, Heth. It's just me." I opened my eyes blearily, the left one still crusted with dried blood, and saw that it was indeed Faramir sitting atop me, a state of being I'd often dreamed of, if not under quite these circumstances. Despite the calm of his voice, he was looking a bit flushed and breathless, and his right eye was swelling shut.
"There's my girl. That's better. Listen, Lorend and I are going to lift you up and put you on the bed, all right? I'm going to send for a healer, and we need to have you where he can look at you."
"Ruin the sheets," I whispered. He leaned closer.
"What did you say?"
"I'll ruin the sheets." This time it was more of a mutter. Faramir shook his head.
"I'm not worried about that, so don't you be. The sheets are not important, getting you fixed up is. Can I let you go now?"
"Aye, my lord." I was careful not to nod, since any motion of my head made me feel sick. He smiled, slowly released my hands, and gently raised himself off of me. Motioning to Lorend to take my feet, he moved around to my head, and carefully slid his arms beneath my shoulders, cradling my head against his chest. I groaned as the two of them lifted me, and carried me over to the bed, but I had to admit the mattress and pillow felt ever so good as they lowered me down.
"There, that has to feel better than the cold floor. Lorend, go to the Houses of Healing, and get a healer back here immediately. On your way out, ask the kitchen to send up some honey and tea. After you're done at the Houses, go on and get some sleep."
"Aye, Captain. Or my lord Steward. Or my lord Prince, or whatever we're calling you today."
"If you don't talk less, and walk more, you'll be calling me Morgoth." Lorend took the hint, and scurried.
"Oh, and Lorend?" He paused in his headlong flight.
"Yes, sir?"
"Thank you for watching over her last night."
"She's a Ranger. What else would I do?" And he resumed scurrying.
Faramir sat carefully on the bed beside me, leaned over and looked into my eyes. The worry line appeared, though his expression did not change from one of gentle concern. He placed a hand upon my forehead and it deepened. He examined the rip down the front of my tunic, and it assumed chasm-like proportions.
"Heth, did they rape you?" he asked quietly.
"Nay. Killed them instead."
"Lorend said there were three of them. Is that right?"
"Aye. All dead now."
"Valar, Heth, what happened?" He went to the washstand, found Lorend's kettle from the night before, took it to the fire, poked the fire up and set the kettle on the hook.
"It's hard to talk, sir." Dampening a towel in the wash basin, he brought it over, and sat down beside me again.
"Do the best you can. The basic facts will do."
"After the court, I went riding out the Anorien road. I wanted to think about things."
"I imagine that you did," Faramir said quietly, dabbing carefully at my temple with the towel.
I then gave him an extremely brief and emotionless description of the evening's events. He said nothing during my explanation, bringing the washbasin over to the bedside, and continuing to wash my face, but his mouth had the tight-held look it got when he was very angry, but not wanting to show it. After a bit, he went and got some of the warmed water from the kettle, and continued to clean me up. He was very gentle and careful, and I could tell he was doing a much better job than I had the night before, and got only a little bit of water on the pillow.
"I think this is going to need a stitch or two, but it's in your hair, so it won't show," he said after a while. I groaned a little, and he looked alarmed.
"Did I hurt you?"
"No, my lord, but I was just thinking. Stitches mean they'll have to cut a bit of my hair, and while it's growing out, I'll have a piece sticking out at the side as well as the back. If this keeps up I'm going to look like a hedgehog."
Faramir chuckled. "If that's the biggest worry on your mind, Heth, then I feel much better about you."
"It's not the biggest worry, it's just the only one I can do something about." He sobered immediately, and indicated my arm.
"I'm going to have a look at your arm now. These clothes are ruined, so I'm just going to slit the sleeves, if you don't mind."
"Don't care." He reached for my sword belt, and pulled the dagger, then used it to slice through the fabric, eyebrows raised at the ease with which he did so.
"You keep quite an edge on that, don't you?" I smiled a little.
"Father always said, take care of your weapons, and they'll take care of you."
"Indeed." I felt the cold air on my arm and shivered a little. Faramir looked at the wound, and frowned.
"Was there anything on the blade? This is weeping and swollen already, and you're fevered. Some of these southerners dip their blades in dung tea. Not poison, but gets the job done just the same."
"I don't know. It was too dark. I just pulled it out and threw it right back, like I told you."
"Oh, Heth, I would have spared you this, if I could have."
"I don't see how you could have. I'm the one decided to ride out."
"Ah, but I'm the Steward, and I should have known this sort of thing was going on."
He stroked the right side of my face gently for a moment, and I shivered again.
"Would you like the blanket?"
What I would have preferred was that he get on the bed and hold me and warm me that way, but I agreed that yes, the blanket would be appreciated, and he got it and tucked it around me. Then he threw more wood on the fire, and poked it up till it was roaring away merrily.
"There, it's a rather clammy day outside, but that should warm the place in a little bit. And the healer ought to be here soon. I'm afraid he's going to want to clean and probe that wound, Heth."
"It's all right, my lord. Better than losing the arm." He grimaced at that possibility. I looked at his face and suddenly realized something.
"I hit you!" He smiled.
"You more than hit me, you smote me with great force! I fear I'm going to have a black eye to match yours."
"Do I have a black eye?"
"Oh, yes. And getting blacker by the minute." I tried to remember about the details of my awakening, and blanched as I realized something.
"I almost got my hand on my sword!"
"Yes, you did," he agreed calmly.
"I could have killed you!"
"Possibly. You have become a much more dangerous person since first we met." He seemed more amused than anything else.
I reached up, and touched his temple, and my eyes filled up quite suddenly. "I could have hurt you, or killed you! You should have just left me where I lay, my lord! That was a foolish thing to do!" His hand covered mine, and patted it soothingly.
"I'm all right, Heth. And there was no way I was going to leave you injured on that floor. Beside, it wasn't quite that foregone a conclusion--I had leverage on you. Though the next time I ask Lorend to go for your blades, and he backs off instead, I'm going to have him pulled apart by Mumaks, or something equally creative. By the Valar, how did you get him so scared of you? Could you share your secret with me? I can see situations where it might come in handy." His easy banter calmed me, as he probably intended that it should. I hiccoughed a couple of times, and stopped crying.
"If I knew how I'd done it, I'd sell the secret. Probably get enough to actually do something with that land the King gave me."
Faramir became very still of a sudden. After a moment, he asked, "Heth, would you like me to speak to the King on your behalf?"
"About what?"
"North Ithilien, what else? I could insist."
"Who has it now?"
"Damrod, with Anborn as his lieutenant. Lorend's going to Mablung."
"They're all good men, my lord. Leave it lie. I would not have you anger the King because of me."
"But Heth--"
"Leave it, I said! I am already sworn to your uncle. It is done!" Faramir looked shocked at my vehemence, and I winced, for it hurt my head to speak so loudly.
"Heth," he said carefully, "If you do not wish it, I will not speak. But your future may not be as grim as you think. My uncle is the best of men."
"I think your uncle is the reason I'm not in Ithilien!" He started, and then gave me a somewhat grim look.
"What do you mean by that, Heth?"
"The other day, when he gave me Fortune, we went on a picnic. He's a very....likable man. Easy to talk to, for all his rank. I told him things, and the very next day, I found myself shipped off to Dol Amroth." I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, for I suddenly realized I was treading on treacherous ground.
"What sort of things did you tell him?"
"Personal things. What the orcs did to me, how I couldn't have children, that sort of thing." I knew how important Faramir's uncle was to him, and no matter how I felt about the man, did not want to drive a wedge between them by telling him what Imrahil had said about Eowyn. Not to mention his wanting Aragorn to command Faramir to marry me. "I think he may have told the King something that made him do this, but I'm not sure. Prince Imrahil seemed as surprised as I did at court, and he was nice to me afterwards. I just don't understand what's going on!"
"I cannot believe that Uncle would have told the King something he was told in confidence, Hethlin. Did you ask him to keep what he told you secret?" The grimness was still there, and it frightened me, for I did not want to be at odds with Faramir, particularly right now.
"He promised....what were his exact words.......he promised on his honor that he would not bandy what I told him abroad. But that's not the same as promising not to tell anyone, is it? He could have said that, and told just the King, and not been forsworn, couldn't he?"
Faramir pondered that for a moment, then finally and reluctantly nodded. "Yes, Heth, if that's what he said, he could in fact have told the King. I must speak to the two of them, and see if I can determine exactly what is going on here. You let me handle this, all right?"
"Aye, my lord." A knock at the door heralded the arrival of the healer, and the beginning of an hour of unpleasantness. I sat up leaning against Faramir, as the man cleaned and stitched my head, and gripped his hand tightly till I finally passed out, as the healer flushed and probed and flushed and scraped at my arm wound. He found a small scrap of cloth that had been borne into the wound by the tip of the dagger, and removed it. He also announced that the throwing knife had been very dirty, possibly even soiled with dung as Faramir had suggested. He poulticed the arm with herbs, and left packets with further doses and some very strong willowbark tea. I had a concussion, and rest was what was needed, he told Faramir, and Faramir tucked me back under the blanket, and promised that I would get it.
When I awoke sometime later, I was shivering, and Faramir was tucking another blanket around me. I noticed in passing that my arm was poulticed and bandaged, and that I was wearing a clean shirt and breeches. He'd apparently been very busy while I was unconscious.
"Don't you have a job, or something?" I asked him, teeth chattering a little. A look at the window showed a grey and rainy day outside, but the quality of the light indicated that it was well into the morning.
"I have a job, and I have a staff, and I suspect that everyone thinks I'm sleeping the party off right now."
"Did you get any sleep at all last night?" He was pouring me a cup of tea, and his face looked tired.
"A couple of hours. Lorend came for me at dawn. I wish he'd gone ahead and come sooner under the circumstances."
"You shouldn't be doing this, my lord. We're not at Henneth-Anun. You can call a carriage, and ship me off to the Houses of Healing."
"You don't need to go out in the rain, Heth, and somehow I don't think you want strangers touching you just now. The healer says you're not that badly hurt, if the arm doesn't fester. If we get the fever down, then bed rest is what you need, and you can do that anywhere. Unless you'd rather go to the Houses?"
"No, I'd rather stay here."
"There you have it then. Drink this." I did as he bade, and drank the willowbark, which was very strong, and very bitter, but it washed the bad tasting glue out of my mouth most effectively. I shuddered as I drained it to the dregs, and Faramir held out a second mug.
"Good girl. Here's your reward. Let's see if you can keep this down." And I almost laughed, despite the fact that my head would hurt horribly if I did, for when I sipped it, it was very sweet honeyed tea, which he had often fed me when I first came to the Rangers, and was ill. He then settled himself back into the chair, and I noticed that he had his mother's book in his hand.
"Now for a bed-time story." He started to read in Elvish, and I almost laughed again, for of course, it was the magic horse story. He smiled, and continued to read, and I just lay there and listened to the sound of his voice, and shivered, remembering all the other times he'd read to me during my sickness, when I would fall asleep to the sound of his voice. He had discovered over time, that if he read me to sleep, I almost never had bad dreams, so it became a sort of preventative medicine. And I realized, listening to him, that though I may not have consciously known I loved him before my confrontation with the Witch-King, my attachment to him went back much further than that, probably almost to the very moment he'd drawn me from the water. While it was true that in the beginning, it had probably been that attraction the sick feel for those who tend them, it had grown over time into a truer emotion. And though he would never be mine, I was not discontent, for my love was a kind man, and valiant and true, and my love for him did me credit. I had not given my affections to one who was unworthy.
So I lay there, and listened and shivered, and pondered with my poor, sore brain, and he came to the end of the story, and found me still awake.
"I appear to be losing my touch," he said with a smile.
"That's because princes are in bed-time stories, they don't read them."
"You're still cold. I'll fetch another blanket."
"Why don't you just pull your boots and slide under here instead? If you put another of those heavy blankets on me, I don't think I'll be able to breathe." He considered this for a moment, then nodded.
"It used to work on those icy nights in Ithilien. And I am tired." He went around to the left side of the bed, thereby putting me between his warmth and that of the fire, slipped his boots off, and slid between the sheets. He turned onto his side, presenting his back to me. "There you go, snuggle up now." And I did so, moving very slowly and carefully, till I had spooned up quite closely. Though it seldom snowed in Ithilien, the winter weather could be very cruel, and it had often been the custom on the coldest winter nights for the Rangers to pair up and share their blankets and body heat. When such occasions had arisen, my partner had always either been the Captain, or I slept alone and shivered, for Faramir did not want me circulating through the troop. And when we'd shared blankets, he'd always slept in the exact same position he'd assumed just now. It suddenly occurred to me that there might be a very good reason he did that, and I stifled a chuckle.
"What is it?" he asked drowsily. "Are you all right? Hopefully, that tea will start working soon."
"I am fine, my lord. Just remembering something. Go to sleep." Not more than a couple of minutes later, I heard that tiny, soft snore of his. A Ranger learned to sleep at a moment's notice, when he could and how he could, and apparently Faramir still kept that much of his skill. It took me a bit longer, but eventually, the warmth emanating from him and contained by the blankets penetrated me, and my shivering subsided, and the tea did begin to work, and my headache lessened. I buried my nose in his soft, black hair, cuddled as close as I possibly could, and fell deeply asleep.
There came a time, in my slumber, when I became aware of a voice speaking to me from a great distance, perhaps in Elvish, I thought, though I couldn't be sure, and I tried to answer, but couldn't seem to form the words. Then there was an veritable explosion of stars, and I seemed to be falling through them for a long while, till all went black suddenly, and I knew no more.
The next time I knew of anything, it was the sound of a number of voices, and they were speaking Westron and not Elvish. It slowly came to me that I was in my bed, and my hand lay in the empty spot where Faramir had been, and the voices were coming from near the fire, so they were behind my back. I did not know how long I had slept, but I did not feel refreshed at all--in fact, I felt as weary as if I'd been exercising heavily. But after a time, I realized that my fever was gone, my head no longer hurt at all, and my arm was at rest as well. I felt very much disinclined to move, so I lay quietly and listened to what was said.
"We had all our clothes on, Uncle--I don't see how anyone could think evil of it." That was Faramir, and he sounded respectfully exasperated.
"You or I would not, lad, nor would any person of reasonable intelligence and good will. Or anyone that knows you or the Lady Hethlin. But we are talking about courtiers here, and I hope you will not insult my intelligence by implying I have no knowledge of the sorts of mischief they can cause by taking an innocent incident and blowing it up all out of proportion. This is not Ithilien, and different rules apply. Had someone other than myself walked in on you, you might have found yourself having a very uncomfortable interview with Eomer and his sister right now." That was Prince Imrahil, and he sounded both reasonable and concerned.
"She asked me to. She had a chill. When you woke me up, she'd stopped shivering. Eowyn would understand. She and Hethlin are friends."
"Ah, but would Eomer? I venture to suggest that his view of such things is somewhat more....narrow. And I know him rather better than you do, nephew."
"And if you have no care for the lady's reputation, my lord Steward, do try to have a care for her heart. It is cruel of you to dangle such crumbs of friendship before her as you can spare." That voice, silky and smooth as brook water flowing over polished rock, was Prince Elrohir, and it took me a moment to realize that he sounded incredibly annoyed.
"I should like to know what interest you have in the lady, my lord Prince, that you believe you can call me to account." Faramir again, though this time his voice was ice, and put me much in mind of his father suddenly.
"Oh, nothing romantic, I assure you--though, betrothed as you are, my lord Steward, it is not your place to rebuke me if I did. Say rather that I went to some trouble to take a piece that had been removed from the game, and place it back on the board, and I don't like the way it's being played." I was shocked by the casual arrogance of that remark, and suddenly realized exactly what a gulf of years lay between me and Elrohir. He apparently regarded me as a sort of pet, or something the Valar had provided for his exclusive amusement. His attitude did not sit well with Prince Imrahil, either.
"Gentleman, this is a sickroom, not a brothel or a barn. I suggest that if it is your intention to quarrel, you take it somewhere else."
"Oh, the lady will not wake for a couple of hours yet, Prince Imrahil," Elrohir assured him airily. "After I healed her, I sent her into a deep sleep. Which she will need, as the body's healing processes have been hastened, and she will be feeling very weary." What I primarily felt, besides being tired, was a certain degree of satisfaction that I'd just disproved his omniscience. "I simply feel it my duty to point out to the Prince of Ithilien that he very much begins to resemble the proverbial donkey caught between the two full mangers, and it would be better for all concerned if he would simply choose."
"I am trying to recollect exactly what it is I've done to you that should cause you to be so wroth with me, my lord Elrohir." Faramir was still coldly furious. Elrohir laughed, and it was not a pleasant laugh, light and silvery as it was.
"Oh no, my lord Faramir, you do not get off so easily as that! You are, by all accounts, an extremely perceptive man. I hear tales everywhere of your wisdom, your ability as a commander, the way you can see into the hearts of your men. You cannot tell me that you do not know that Hethlin is in love with you. And knowing that, I do strongly take exception to your treatment of her, all the little underhanded ways you've sought to bind her to you emotionally while you court another woman, and particularly your crawling into bed with her. She is Estel's kinswoman, and that makes her mine by association, and it is as her kinsman I call you to account."
I wondered if the Valar, not to mention the King, would ever forgive me if I throttled Elrohir. I closed my eyes, and strove to compose myself. There was a long moment of silence.
"I am sorry you believe so ill of me, Prince Elrohir, but truly I did not know." Faramir's voice was quieter now. "I had thought Hethlin and I were good friends."
"Incredible! You truly are every bit as obtuse as you appeared to be?" This discovery baffled Elrohir considerably. "How is it that you could not know? Hethlin knows that you regard her only as a good friend. And she is indeed--the best you'll ever have, if you ask me. But she would be far more than that to you, if she could. And she hasn't hidden it particularly well, if you ask me." I lay seething furiously, and wondered if I could arrange for Elrohir to have an accident, one preferably involving Eagles--and great height.
"Uncle, did you know anything about this?"
"I suspected as much, when I brought you off of the field after the retreat. And Mablung and I discussed it on the way to the Black Gate." I promised myself a talk with Mablung as well before I left town. "The day before yesterday I asked her about it, and she admitted her affection for you. And yes, her desire was that you should never know about it." I got the impression that Elrohir was being given a disapproving stare.
"Hethlin thinks that you told the King about this, Uncle, and that is why she is being sent down to Dol Amroth."
"What? I did nothing of the kind, nephew, I swear it. I did tell Aragorn about her barreness, but only because he kept pressing me as to whether I knew if she had a young man she was interested in, or if I thought she would want me to arrange a marriage for her. And I would not have done that, had I not thought that she would very much dislike having to discuss such a matter with the King, which I feared would happen, should he pressure her to marry. But anything else she told me I kept in confidence, and that included her affection for you."
Faramir sighed tiredly. "It appears that absolutely everyone knew about this except for me."
"It happens that way sometimes, Faramir," his uncle said consolingly, "You were simply too close to see." Elrohir snorted, and Imrahil addressed him frostily.
"Have you something else to add, Prince Elrohir?"
"Only that if her barreness is the only impediment to her union with the Prince of Ithilien, my father might be able to mend it. He is the greatest healer on Middle-Earth after all. Does this change matters for you, son of Denethor?" Elrohir was still pushing things, I noted. Son of Denethor was hardly Faramir's favorite title, and I was sure Elrohir knew that.
"I am in love with the Lady Eowyn of Rohan, and have entered into a contract of betrothal with her, and as soon as it may be arranged, I intend to marry her." Faramir replied with quiet dignity, and I closed my eyes at the final death knell of my dreams. "As for Hethlin," and here his voice became extremely dry and ironic, " I would think that as her concerned kinsman, you would seek healing for her whether she were betrothed or not."
Elrohir ignored his tone. "And it is my intention to do so, as soon as I may. In the meantime, I'm going to have a little talk with Estel, and see about having her moved out of this hole, at the very least. Servant quarters, indeed!"
"I needs must speak with Aragorn as well," said Imrahil, and distress was plain in his voice. "The poor child must absolutely hate me! I must find out what his reasoning on this was."
"I had promised Hethlin that I would determine what was going on," Faramir said. "Perhaps you should leave this to me, Uncle."
"I think you should all three go and speak to the King, and let me get some sleep," I said with what I felt was remarkable calm under the circumstances, and I sat up slowly and faced them. Had the situation been other than what it was, I might have been amused at the sight of three intelligent, intuitive, perceptive princes caught flat-footed and embarrassed with their mouths wide open.
"You should not be awake!" Elrohir exclaimed, disbelief and indignation warring in his voice. I gave him a grim look.
"Do you not know by now that I do a great many things I should not be able to do, son of Elrond?" I felt the merest brush of his mind against mine for a moment, perhaps intending to calm me or make me sleep, and then something very peculiar happened. All my outrage at his meddling, and my embarrassment and grief seemed to rise up in me, and I pictured myself giving him a good, sound slap. Something seemed to leave me with an almost audible whoosh, and I sagged onto one arm. Elrohir staggered back a step and looked very surprised for a moment. Then the look became one of thoughtful comprehension.
"Of course. You speak with Eagles, and see through their eyes." He gave himself a little shake, while Faramir and Imrahil stared at him uncomprehendingly.
"You will find, Hethlin, that there are manners that govern such exchanges," he warned me.
"And as soon as I find someone who has them, Prince Elrohir, I shall endeavor to learn them." Somewhat to my surprise, this seemed to amuse him. He gave me one of his sideways, slanting looks, and his mouth curved up in a rakish smile. This was not the reaction I'd hoped for, so I clarified matters for him.
"Prince Elrohir. I am not ungrateful or unmindful of all you have done for me. But until you can look upon me as a person, and not some pawn on a gameboard to be moved about for your own amusement, I wish not to see you again." I indicated the door. "Please leave now."
I thought I saw a shadow of what might have been regret cross his face, and he gave me a peculiar, abrupt nod which was the first ungraceful move I'd ever seen him make, turned on his heel and left the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Faramir and Imrahil give each other disbelieving looks.
"My lord of Dol Amroth," I said, turning my attention to Prince Imrahil. He nodded a polite acknowledgment.
"Lady Hethlin."
"I have no quarrel with you, sir. I understand why it was that you told the King what you did."
"I am glad of that, lady, and glad I would be as well to have you in my household. But an oath made under duress is not binding, and if it is truly your will to go elsewhere, then I will release you."
"I must speak with the King, I think, if that is possible, before I make a final decision, my lord Prince. Would it suffice if I come to you after I have done so, and when I am feeling better, that we might discuss this further?"
"That would be wisest I think as well, Lady Hethlin," Prince Imrahil agreed, and he gave me a searching look with his sea-grey eyes as he bowed low.
"Your servant, my lady." And he departed, leaving me alone with his nephew.
"Actually, I think it's supposed to be the other way around." I said to the closed door after he had left. I rubbed my forehead wearily, and felt carefully at my left temple.
"Just as I thought. A hedgehog." I heard a peculiar sound and looked at Faramir, who was standing with his hands folded behind his back, and giving me an uncertain, narrow-eyed look with his head tilted to one side.
"You know, the main reason I never wanted you to know about this," I told him conversationally, "is so I'd never have to see you looking at me the way you're looking at me now. This is not your fault, Faramir, you've done nothing wrong, and it's not your problem."
He cleared his throat and spoke with some difficulty, it seemed. "I don't know how you can say that, Heth. I must have done something to make you think--"
"No, no you didn't. You never did. I did this all by myself, though for the longest time I didn't even know it was happening. Mablung warned me about it at the Causeway Forts. He saw it before I did. Do you want to know when I found out?" He nodded slowly.
"It was the Witch-King." He started a bit at that, and gave me a disbelieving look.
"Yes, the Witch-King. He went into my mind, and stripped it bare, and when he was offering me things to kill your uncle.....do you remember how I told you he offered to spare you?" Faramir nodded. "Did you never stop to think why that was?"
"I thought perhaps it was because I was your commander, or that we were friends." His voice was a little hoarse.
"Oh, no. He offered me riches, and power, and armies to command--and you, spared by Sauron to be mine in whatever way I wished. And when I realized that he'd been in the deepest recesses of my mind, and was offering what he knew I would most desire, it was then I knew I loved you." I looked at him, and his eyes were suspiciously bright, and I wondered why he should be on the verge of tears when my eyes were so dry. I drew up my knees, wrapped my arms around them, and set my chin upon them, turning away a little to give him some privacy.
"Actually, you may have helped to save me there. Perhaps in some deep corner of my mind, I came to doubt that such a thing of evil, that knew nothing of love, could promise the love of another to me. Or perhaps not. But it was while I was in the Grey Lands that I realized I could never let you know. I could not give you children, so I could not be your wife, and you would not have had me as your mistress. I told Mablung what was going on when Elrohir brought me back, and he made me promise, when he left for the Black Gate, that if Sauron prevailed, I would speak to you before the end, that perhaps we might have a little time together. But then we won the day, and you met Eowyn, and that was that."
"Oh, Heth." I wasn't watching him, but I heard his voice break. "It is a sad thing when someone as fine as you has to hope for the end of the world to find love."
"But that is what it would have taken." He did not try to deny it. "Will you tell me something, Faramir? Was there ever a time you thought about.....sleeping with me?"
"Yes." The answer came so swiftly, that I looked at him in surprise. He actually smiled back at me, seeming in some way to have been heartened by the question.
"Heth, I'm not made of stone. I've not had much experience of women, that's true. There was that.....lady Boromir bought me for my sixteenth birthday.." I choked at that mental image, and he looked at me sidelong. "No, you never did hear me tell that particular tale around the campfire! And I would appreciate it if it went no further! There were the other occasional encounters through the years. But it had been quite a while, and we were at war, and in peril of our lives every day. Of course I thought about it!"
"Was it because I was the only woman around? I mean, would anyone have done?"
"No! Did you see me heading off to the brothels when we went to Minas Tirith? Wouldn't I have done that if anyone would do?"
"I can't see you going to a brothel under any circumstances."
"I thank you for that." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What exactly is it you're wanting to know, Heth? I feel that you have a question you want answered, and we're at cross purposes here."
I gestured at myself. "I always thought that one of the reasons you never looked at me in that way was because you knew what I looked like, and you...didn't like it."
Comprehension lit his eyes. "Oh no, Heth, that wasn't what stopped me." Another quick answer, spoken with complete certainty. "What stopped me was that I was your commander, and I had saved your life, and I was your friend, and I knew that any or all of those reasons would make you agree if I asked you, whether you truly wished to or not."
This was both reassuring, and extremely frustrating. "By the Valar, I wish you'd been a little less principled, Faramir! You're probably the only person who could ever get past that. Now I'll go to my grave not knowing what it's like to sleep with anyone who isn't an orc!" I was deeply disappointed and irritated as well, but he looked at me gravely.
"I don't believe that, Hethlin. It's not as bad as you think it is, and it wouldn't matter a bit to anyone who cared about you. You will find the right person, and he will love you, and you'll see that it makes no difference at all."
"I don't know," I said slowly. "I don't think I'll ever love anyone else like I love you. I don't think there's enough of my heart left over." He very visibly flinched at that, and turned away from me, moving over to the fireplace, and staring into the flames.
"Please don't say that, Hethlin. I can't bear to think I've ruined your life."
"You haven't ruined my life, Faramir. I have known for some time that though I love you, I would never have you. Don't worry about me, and please don't blame yourself. I will have a good life. Everybody doesn't find true love, but people muddle along nonetheless."
Several moments passed in silence, the only sound the crackling of the flames. Then he said something completely unexpected.
"Rain. Rain after long drought." I recognized the voice, though I'd not heard it in a long while, and the hairs on my neck rose. I got up rather shakily and moved towards him. As I approached, he looked up, and as I expected, his eyes were wide and almost black, and looked right through me. He was shaking a bit, the dream had him hard.
"Rain in the desert. Unexpected. Grief as deep as the sea, then a yearning as boundless. Fire kindled, where all was cold. White birds, two white birds, flying together. Two swords in the East. Blood and death in the East. The Star of the North, many Stars of the North, all in a line. Love stronger than death. Love come back from death. Great pain, then great joy. Great joy in the morning." With a great shudder, he came back to himself, and I reached out a hand to steady him. He looked at me, confused.
"What happened, Heth?"
"You were dreaming."
"Was I? Valar, I haven't done that in a while!" He spent a moment trying to recollect what had happened. "I don't think it was the wave dream, was it?"
"No. This was a whole bunch of different things. New things. Swords, and birds, and rain. It made no sense whatsoever, as far as I could tell."
"Well! I thought I'd seen the last of that with the end of the war. I was just standing there, looking at the fire, and trying to think about the sort of fellow I thought might suit you, and the next thing you know, I'm spouting nonsense!" He gave me a rueful smile. "Don't hold it against me?" I felt a chill run down my spine, but managed to smile back.
"Never."
"Here," he chided me, suddenly realizing I was standing with him. "What are you doing out of bed? Get back in there right now!" He took my elbow, and helped me back in, and pulled the blankets up around me. There was sadness in his eyes as he looked down at me.
"I am so very sorry, Heth."
"You have naught to apologize for. I would not have missed loving you for the world, Faramir."
He looked down at me for a moment longer, then, rather to my surprise, bent down and gently kissed me on the lips. It was sweet, and soft, and swiftly over.
"I must go speak to the King, Heth. Get some rest."
"Aye, Captain." But in the end, I disobeyed his orders, and lay awake for sometime after he had gone, looking at the door through which he'd passed. And finally, the tears came--like rain after long drought.