Disclaimer: Faramir (ooh, what a great name *swoon*) and all other
characters and such are not mine. Woe is me (or I)!! I love Faramir.
A/N: For some strange reason, I'm feeling a little anti-Aragorn in this chapter. It's nothing personal, it's just. I don't know. It seems to fit the storyline. But things will settle down eventually. After all, it is the holidays, and nothing can go wrong!! But Faramir has to wait a bit longer.
PLEASE READ THIS: It occurred to me, whilst reading my wondrous reviews (thanks to all of you ^^) that Aragorn's actions were not very clearly explained. My fault entirely. So - I encourage all of you to read my response to Grumpy, which explains all my own personal feelings about the events, especially since Aragorn gets worse.
Grumpy: Thanks for reviewing!! *hug* Hope you're not grumpy. After all, Midwinter approacheth!! Sorry. Anyway. My thinking on Aragorn and Faramir is thus: Aragorn has to get used to being King - it is a new experience for him, and perhaps he's being just a little brusque, in an attempt to maintain control over his people. Since he's a Ranger, he never really had to have a lot of people-skills anyway - he spent most of his time doing really cool heroics, and capturing Gollum, and killing Orcs and such. Also, as Thorongil, I can't imagine that Aragorn got along very well with Denethor, and Faramir IS Denethor's son, after all. He probably has his own doubts about Faramir, remembering his father. Thirdly, Aragorn is probably stressed out and his nerves are on edge. Finally, there's a TON of other things going on in Aragorn's mind, especially with Midwinter approaching. There's no mention of it yet, but they DO exchange presents. This is also the first year of Aragorn being married (and I haven't decided yet whether or not to include Arwen). So there's a lot of reasons why Aragorn might not exactly be thinking about Faramir's problems right now. Besides, Faramir's not the type to vocalize any problems that he might have; after living with Denethor for all those years, he had become adept at masking his feelings, so that even Aragorn might not notice, if he only glanced. No doubt with a bit of inspection Aragorn WOULD notice, but for the above reasons he might not be particularly concerned. And yes, to reiterate, the two do work things out. Glad to know that you liked the idea of tearing down the rooms. I just wonder what they would do with them afterwards. *scratches head* Probably give them to Faramir's children, or maybe some noble's family. Just a random thought. Thanks so much for reviewing!! I'm very appreciative. Hope this rambling cleared things up for you.
Frodo16424: THANKS!! I'm so glad that you liked the Faramir here. (ooh - that rhymes!!) Anyway, it was SO nice of you to say that - I was really worried about how to write him, since he's such a complex character, and there are so many facets to his personality. I generally update pretty quickly - as evidenced by the updates so far - so have no fear!! Knowing how frustrated I get when people don't update motivates me to update faster myself. Thanks so much for your review!!
Elektra12 - WOW!! MY FIRST REPEAT-REVIEWER!!! *hug* *hug* *gives you a box of chocolate turtles* I'm SO glad that you like the story. You are wonderful!! *hugs you again* *watches you back away* Hope I didn't scare you off.
Therefore: I hereby dedicate this chapter to Elektra12. Sorry it's especially long.
__________________________
Chapter Five: Memories of the Healers
"My Lord King?" Faramir knocked on the door to Aragorn's office. He was just about to turn the handle when the door opened wide, revealing a very angry Aragorn.
"Ah, you have finally decided to grace me with your presence," Aragorn scoffed.
"I'm sorry, my Lord, I -"
"Sorry?" Aragorn's angry voice caused the people in the hall behind Faramir to stop and stare - their King was never angry, and to see him completely enraged was a new experience. Noticing this, Aragorn spoke quietly to Faramir. "Come in." As soon as the door was closed, Aragorn wheeled around, and glared at Faramir. "What's wrong with you? Have you suddenly forgotten your duties? I put you on the planning board as a kindness, and you show only contempt for your position by completely disregarding the rest of us!"
Faramir stood silent. ['Tis always best to wait until the person is finished, and then try to escape from the situation as quickly as possible.] "Well?" Aragorn asked. "Have you anything to say for yourself? I'm sure you have a few perfectly good excuses - why don't you try one?"
"I'm sorry that you are angry. But it really wasn't my fault. I -"
"It never is your fault, Lord Faramir! It's always someone else's, or a misunderstanding. Just take responsibility for your actions! Just say it!"
Faramir felt his slow temper beginning to rise. [He's not even listening to me! If he would just let me explain.] "And what would you have me say?"
"I would have you tell me the truth: that you don't want to be on the planning board, and so you deliberately ignore your duties there, instead of just asking me to leave! You're too embarrassed to say that you don't want any change to come to Gondor, but you still want everything the same as it was when Denethor was Steward! Am I not on the mark?"
Faramir stood aghast. [Is this what he really thinks? How he is mistaken!] "You could not be further from the mark! I am greatly honoured by being included on the planning board -"
"Then why do you never come? And even when you are there, you never pay attention!"
"Maybe it's because I play no part in your jests with Legolas and Gimli," Faramir retorted. "Half the times you're not even planning anyway! What purpose is there for me, if we do nothing, except sit and joke? Maybe it's only me, but I thought a planning board actually did work, instead of sitting at a table, smoking pipe-weed! But that doesn't mean -"
"I think I have earned the right to spend some time with my dearest friends. I was hoping that having you there would help you to get to know Legolas and Gimli better!" Aragorn paused. "This isn't anything having to do with the Steward's rooms, is it? Is that why you haven't showed up - you're still angry?"
Faramir stiffened. [Does he think me a spoiled child!] "If it did, I would not be so low as to shirk my duties through my anger. That is something I have never done. I would have hoped that you think better of me."
"You are still angry with me! I can tell! I thought this was settled. I had no choice but to move your things - you have to start getting over it. I did what I thought was best."
"You thought wrong, my Lord. And even though I am still angry about it, I would not be childish enough to -"
"But you are! Faramir, what don't you understand about duty? It's simple! The Steward lives in the Steward's rooms. What is wrong with that? Your servants tell me that you basically live in the archives, that you never spend any time in the rooms, unlike your old habits. You must accept that you are living there, because Denethor and Boromir are dead!"
Faramir let out a shaky sigh. He could see the regret in Aragorn's eyes, and knew that he was sorry, but Faramir didn't care. He felt tears well up in his eyes. "Yes, they are dead," he whispered. "And I am all alone." He turned quickly, opened the door, and left the room without even looking at Aragorn, or bothering to shut the door behind him. He walked swiftly, trying to reach somewhere private, so that he could be left to himself, and not be ashamed of the tears that threatened to overcome his barriers.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
When Faramir opened his eyes, he found himself under several layers of sheets in an unfamiliar room. Alarmed, he tried to sit up, but his head ached, and his shoulder fiercely protested. With a small cry, he lay back down again. Where am I? Where is Boromir? Almost in answer to his thoughts, Boromir's face appeared.
"Faramir! You are awake!" He grinned. "How are you? How do you feel?"
Faramir spoke slowly. "I'm all right. I feel tired, and I hurt a little, but I'm all right." He paused. "Where am I?"
"The Houses of Healing. I brought you here, remember? After you fell?"
"Fell?" For a moment he was confused. Then he recalled the lie that he told Boromir, and knew to play along. "Oh - you mean down the stairs? Yes, I remember."
"Good."
Faramir asked a question that he was almost too frightened to. "Boromir - where is Father?"
He could see that Boromir answered uneasily, and knew that he was lying. "He was here a little while ago, but had to leave. I'm sure he'll be back later."
"Oh," he replied softly. [So he has not been to see me. I shouldn't have hoped that he had - he has more important things to do anyway.] He tried to sit up again. Boromir eased him back down to the bed.
"No, Brother, you must rest. I don't want you to re-injure yourself." He paused. "You look tired - do you want to sleep? I shouldn't have talked to you this long anyway. The healers said not to, but I couldn't resist."
"Please keep talking - tell me what happened."
"Well," he started. He glanced over his shoulder. "All right, I'll tell you. But if anyone asks, it wasn't me. Promise?" Faramir nodded his head solemnly, despite the ache. "When I brought you here, they were all worried, because you weren't waking up. You injured yourself pretty badly, you know. You have a small concussion, actually, they say. And you dislocated your shoulder." Faramir's eyes widened in alarm. Boromir laughed. "Don't worry - you'll be fine. For a while they thought you even fractured your skull, because your head was bleeding, but you didn't, thank the Valar."
Faramir was becoming drowsy, despite all his efforts to stay awake. "I'm tiring you, aren't I?" Boromir asked. "Get some rest." He kissed his brother's forehead affectionately. "I was really frightened for a while, you know - I almost thought I had lost you." Faramir looked at Boromir, and then closed his eyes.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Faramir was almost at his old rooms. They weren't far, but he a sudden headache washed over him, and he was forced to stop, and lean on the wall. The pain seemed to radiate from where he had hit his head before. Nevertheless, after the pain subsided, he continued walking, anxious for privacy.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"Captain Faramir?" Mablung's voice echoed behind him. "Captain?"
Faramir turned wearily. "Yes, Mablung?"
"You must rest - you're no use if you're asleep on your feet."
"I will not leave him." He looked pleadingly at his friend. "Let me stay?"
"I have no power to order you to go. But if you are intent on staying, then I will not hinder it."
"Thank you, Mablung."
"Faramir - he will be all right. Trust in that." Mablung's footsteps echoed away. He knew that he should believe it, but somehow, he didn't think that everything would be okay. Boromir looked so frail and pale, and he lay so still on the pallet. The image of his brother was burned in his mind: Boromir, rallying the troops; Boromir turning to check on Faramir; the arrow flying towards his brother; shouting to warn Boromir, but not in time; his brother, laying facedown, with an arrow in his back. He had run to him, he remembered. Boromir's eyes had been open, and had looked at him painfully, and then had closed.
[I never thought I'd be spending Midwinter in the Houses of Healing again.] It had been what - 15 years? The time had seemed to fly, except now Faramir was playing the role of worried brother. His brother's breath seemed to quicken suddenly. Faramir leaned in closer. Boromir opened his eyes suddenly. "Faramir, you are here," he whispered.
"I'll always be here," Faramir replied. "And so will you."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The headache passed, leaving as suddenly as it had come. Faramir stood uncertainly, his breath ragged, his knees unsteady. He began walking again, but more slowly, hoping that he would be better. A voice sounded behind him, and he was forced to stop, and turn around, even though he didn't think he was ready enough for a conversation. "Legolas, how are you?"
The Elf looked worried. "I'm fine - I'm more worried about you, though."
Faramir averted his eyes. "Why would you be worried about me?"
"I heard your fight with Aragorn. I'm sorry - I couldn't help it. He didn't mean what he said, you know. Aragorn's under a lot of pressure right now - he has to get used to many new things. I'm sure he never meant to hurt you." Legolas paused for a moment, searching through Faramir. "You're not angry?"
"No, I am not. I just -" The headache returned, in full fury. The pain radiated from his left forehead, and he rubbed the area, in a vain attempt to dull the throbbing. Faramir couldn't move or speak, and he just sank to his knees. Legolas kneeled beside him.
"Faramir, what's wrong?" The voice seemed to echo in his mind. "Faramir?"
The pain stopped suddenly. He stood up. "I'm sorry, I just had a bit of a headache."
"You never have headaches, Faramir. What is wrong?" He refused to answer. [Legolas has more important things to do, than worry about me.] "Do you want to go back to your rooms?"
"That's where I was heading."
"I will go with you."
"No -"
"You can't stop me. You forget that I am a stubborn Elf." Faramir smiled. "Good," Legolas said. Faramir began walking towards his old rooms, forgetting the entire incident with Aragorn. Legolas stood uncertainly in the hall. "You're - Faramir - you're going the wrong way." Realization dawned on him, and he turned around. He felt his cheeks flush.
"I'm sorry - I completely forgot." Legolas nodded. Suddenly, he ran over to Faramir.
"You are bleeding?"
"What?" Legolas pointed at his forehead. Faramir pushed his hair back, and wiped his hands over the area. Sure enough, there was blood there - and what's more, it had trickled down his face, and he had not even noticed. [I must have cut myself when I hit my head.] He muttered to himself. "I have to go get a bandage -"
"I will go with you," Legolas said firmly. "No wonder you have a headache. Where did you get that?" he asked, with a hint of worry.
"I fell down the stairs in the Steward's rooms. I hit my head then, I think." Faramir looked down at his feet, as they made their way out of the Palace. What must he think of me?
"And that's why you never came to the meeting." Faramir nodded his head, but still refused to look up. "Why didn't you tell Aragorn that? He wouldn't have been angry then, you know."
"Did he give me an opportunity?" Faramir asked bitterly. "I tried, but he cut me off, until eventually I forgot to even mention it."
"You shouldn't feel badly about all of this," Legolas said gently, reading Faramir's actions like a book. "A fall can happen to anyone. No one will mind about this." Faramir nodded again, but unconvincingly. They walked in silence to the healers.
A/N: For some strange reason, I'm feeling a little anti-Aragorn in this chapter. It's nothing personal, it's just. I don't know. It seems to fit the storyline. But things will settle down eventually. After all, it is the holidays, and nothing can go wrong!! But Faramir has to wait a bit longer.
PLEASE READ THIS: It occurred to me, whilst reading my wondrous reviews (thanks to all of you ^^) that Aragorn's actions were not very clearly explained. My fault entirely. So - I encourage all of you to read my response to Grumpy, which explains all my own personal feelings about the events, especially since Aragorn gets worse.
Grumpy: Thanks for reviewing!! *hug* Hope you're not grumpy. After all, Midwinter approacheth!! Sorry. Anyway. My thinking on Aragorn and Faramir is thus: Aragorn has to get used to being King - it is a new experience for him, and perhaps he's being just a little brusque, in an attempt to maintain control over his people. Since he's a Ranger, he never really had to have a lot of people-skills anyway - he spent most of his time doing really cool heroics, and capturing Gollum, and killing Orcs and such. Also, as Thorongil, I can't imagine that Aragorn got along very well with Denethor, and Faramir IS Denethor's son, after all. He probably has his own doubts about Faramir, remembering his father. Thirdly, Aragorn is probably stressed out and his nerves are on edge. Finally, there's a TON of other things going on in Aragorn's mind, especially with Midwinter approaching. There's no mention of it yet, but they DO exchange presents. This is also the first year of Aragorn being married (and I haven't decided yet whether or not to include Arwen). So there's a lot of reasons why Aragorn might not exactly be thinking about Faramir's problems right now. Besides, Faramir's not the type to vocalize any problems that he might have; after living with Denethor for all those years, he had become adept at masking his feelings, so that even Aragorn might not notice, if he only glanced. No doubt with a bit of inspection Aragorn WOULD notice, but for the above reasons he might not be particularly concerned. And yes, to reiterate, the two do work things out. Glad to know that you liked the idea of tearing down the rooms. I just wonder what they would do with them afterwards. *scratches head* Probably give them to Faramir's children, or maybe some noble's family. Just a random thought. Thanks so much for reviewing!! I'm very appreciative. Hope this rambling cleared things up for you.
Frodo16424: THANKS!! I'm so glad that you liked the Faramir here. (ooh - that rhymes!!) Anyway, it was SO nice of you to say that - I was really worried about how to write him, since he's such a complex character, and there are so many facets to his personality. I generally update pretty quickly - as evidenced by the updates so far - so have no fear!! Knowing how frustrated I get when people don't update motivates me to update faster myself. Thanks so much for your review!!
Elektra12 - WOW!! MY FIRST REPEAT-REVIEWER!!! *hug* *hug* *gives you a box of chocolate turtles* I'm SO glad that you like the story. You are wonderful!! *hugs you again* *watches you back away* Hope I didn't scare you off.
Therefore: I hereby dedicate this chapter to Elektra12. Sorry it's especially long.
__________________________
Chapter Five: Memories of the Healers
"My Lord King?" Faramir knocked on the door to Aragorn's office. He was just about to turn the handle when the door opened wide, revealing a very angry Aragorn.
"Ah, you have finally decided to grace me with your presence," Aragorn scoffed.
"I'm sorry, my Lord, I -"
"Sorry?" Aragorn's angry voice caused the people in the hall behind Faramir to stop and stare - their King was never angry, and to see him completely enraged was a new experience. Noticing this, Aragorn spoke quietly to Faramir. "Come in." As soon as the door was closed, Aragorn wheeled around, and glared at Faramir. "What's wrong with you? Have you suddenly forgotten your duties? I put you on the planning board as a kindness, and you show only contempt for your position by completely disregarding the rest of us!"
Faramir stood silent. ['Tis always best to wait until the person is finished, and then try to escape from the situation as quickly as possible.] "Well?" Aragorn asked. "Have you anything to say for yourself? I'm sure you have a few perfectly good excuses - why don't you try one?"
"I'm sorry that you are angry. But it really wasn't my fault. I -"
"It never is your fault, Lord Faramir! It's always someone else's, or a misunderstanding. Just take responsibility for your actions! Just say it!"
Faramir felt his slow temper beginning to rise. [He's not even listening to me! If he would just let me explain.] "And what would you have me say?"
"I would have you tell me the truth: that you don't want to be on the planning board, and so you deliberately ignore your duties there, instead of just asking me to leave! You're too embarrassed to say that you don't want any change to come to Gondor, but you still want everything the same as it was when Denethor was Steward! Am I not on the mark?"
Faramir stood aghast. [Is this what he really thinks? How he is mistaken!] "You could not be further from the mark! I am greatly honoured by being included on the planning board -"
"Then why do you never come? And even when you are there, you never pay attention!"
"Maybe it's because I play no part in your jests with Legolas and Gimli," Faramir retorted. "Half the times you're not even planning anyway! What purpose is there for me, if we do nothing, except sit and joke? Maybe it's only me, but I thought a planning board actually did work, instead of sitting at a table, smoking pipe-weed! But that doesn't mean -"
"I think I have earned the right to spend some time with my dearest friends. I was hoping that having you there would help you to get to know Legolas and Gimli better!" Aragorn paused. "This isn't anything having to do with the Steward's rooms, is it? Is that why you haven't showed up - you're still angry?"
Faramir stiffened. [Does he think me a spoiled child!] "If it did, I would not be so low as to shirk my duties through my anger. That is something I have never done. I would have hoped that you think better of me."
"You are still angry with me! I can tell! I thought this was settled. I had no choice but to move your things - you have to start getting over it. I did what I thought was best."
"You thought wrong, my Lord. And even though I am still angry about it, I would not be childish enough to -"
"But you are! Faramir, what don't you understand about duty? It's simple! The Steward lives in the Steward's rooms. What is wrong with that? Your servants tell me that you basically live in the archives, that you never spend any time in the rooms, unlike your old habits. You must accept that you are living there, because Denethor and Boromir are dead!"
Faramir let out a shaky sigh. He could see the regret in Aragorn's eyes, and knew that he was sorry, but Faramir didn't care. He felt tears well up in his eyes. "Yes, they are dead," he whispered. "And I am all alone." He turned quickly, opened the door, and left the room without even looking at Aragorn, or bothering to shut the door behind him. He walked swiftly, trying to reach somewhere private, so that he could be left to himself, and not be ashamed of the tears that threatened to overcome his barriers.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
When Faramir opened his eyes, he found himself under several layers of sheets in an unfamiliar room. Alarmed, he tried to sit up, but his head ached, and his shoulder fiercely protested. With a small cry, he lay back down again. Where am I? Where is Boromir? Almost in answer to his thoughts, Boromir's face appeared.
"Faramir! You are awake!" He grinned. "How are you? How do you feel?"
Faramir spoke slowly. "I'm all right. I feel tired, and I hurt a little, but I'm all right." He paused. "Where am I?"
"The Houses of Healing. I brought you here, remember? After you fell?"
"Fell?" For a moment he was confused. Then he recalled the lie that he told Boromir, and knew to play along. "Oh - you mean down the stairs? Yes, I remember."
"Good."
Faramir asked a question that he was almost too frightened to. "Boromir - where is Father?"
He could see that Boromir answered uneasily, and knew that he was lying. "He was here a little while ago, but had to leave. I'm sure he'll be back later."
"Oh," he replied softly. [So he has not been to see me. I shouldn't have hoped that he had - he has more important things to do anyway.] He tried to sit up again. Boromir eased him back down to the bed.
"No, Brother, you must rest. I don't want you to re-injure yourself." He paused. "You look tired - do you want to sleep? I shouldn't have talked to you this long anyway. The healers said not to, but I couldn't resist."
"Please keep talking - tell me what happened."
"Well," he started. He glanced over his shoulder. "All right, I'll tell you. But if anyone asks, it wasn't me. Promise?" Faramir nodded his head solemnly, despite the ache. "When I brought you here, they were all worried, because you weren't waking up. You injured yourself pretty badly, you know. You have a small concussion, actually, they say. And you dislocated your shoulder." Faramir's eyes widened in alarm. Boromir laughed. "Don't worry - you'll be fine. For a while they thought you even fractured your skull, because your head was bleeding, but you didn't, thank the Valar."
Faramir was becoming drowsy, despite all his efforts to stay awake. "I'm tiring you, aren't I?" Boromir asked. "Get some rest." He kissed his brother's forehead affectionately. "I was really frightened for a while, you know - I almost thought I had lost you." Faramir looked at Boromir, and then closed his eyes.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Faramir was almost at his old rooms. They weren't far, but he a sudden headache washed over him, and he was forced to stop, and lean on the wall. The pain seemed to radiate from where he had hit his head before. Nevertheless, after the pain subsided, he continued walking, anxious for privacy.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"Captain Faramir?" Mablung's voice echoed behind him. "Captain?"
Faramir turned wearily. "Yes, Mablung?"
"You must rest - you're no use if you're asleep on your feet."
"I will not leave him." He looked pleadingly at his friend. "Let me stay?"
"I have no power to order you to go. But if you are intent on staying, then I will not hinder it."
"Thank you, Mablung."
"Faramir - he will be all right. Trust in that." Mablung's footsteps echoed away. He knew that he should believe it, but somehow, he didn't think that everything would be okay. Boromir looked so frail and pale, and he lay so still on the pallet. The image of his brother was burned in his mind: Boromir, rallying the troops; Boromir turning to check on Faramir; the arrow flying towards his brother; shouting to warn Boromir, but not in time; his brother, laying facedown, with an arrow in his back. He had run to him, he remembered. Boromir's eyes had been open, and had looked at him painfully, and then had closed.
[I never thought I'd be spending Midwinter in the Houses of Healing again.] It had been what - 15 years? The time had seemed to fly, except now Faramir was playing the role of worried brother. His brother's breath seemed to quicken suddenly. Faramir leaned in closer. Boromir opened his eyes suddenly. "Faramir, you are here," he whispered.
"I'll always be here," Faramir replied. "And so will you."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The headache passed, leaving as suddenly as it had come. Faramir stood uncertainly, his breath ragged, his knees unsteady. He began walking again, but more slowly, hoping that he would be better. A voice sounded behind him, and he was forced to stop, and turn around, even though he didn't think he was ready enough for a conversation. "Legolas, how are you?"
The Elf looked worried. "I'm fine - I'm more worried about you, though."
Faramir averted his eyes. "Why would you be worried about me?"
"I heard your fight with Aragorn. I'm sorry - I couldn't help it. He didn't mean what he said, you know. Aragorn's under a lot of pressure right now - he has to get used to many new things. I'm sure he never meant to hurt you." Legolas paused for a moment, searching through Faramir. "You're not angry?"
"No, I am not. I just -" The headache returned, in full fury. The pain radiated from his left forehead, and he rubbed the area, in a vain attempt to dull the throbbing. Faramir couldn't move or speak, and he just sank to his knees. Legolas kneeled beside him.
"Faramir, what's wrong?" The voice seemed to echo in his mind. "Faramir?"
The pain stopped suddenly. He stood up. "I'm sorry, I just had a bit of a headache."
"You never have headaches, Faramir. What is wrong?" He refused to answer. [Legolas has more important things to do, than worry about me.] "Do you want to go back to your rooms?"
"That's where I was heading."
"I will go with you."
"No -"
"You can't stop me. You forget that I am a stubborn Elf." Faramir smiled. "Good," Legolas said. Faramir began walking towards his old rooms, forgetting the entire incident with Aragorn. Legolas stood uncertainly in the hall. "You're - Faramir - you're going the wrong way." Realization dawned on him, and he turned around. He felt his cheeks flush.
"I'm sorry - I completely forgot." Legolas nodded. Suddenly, he ran over to Faramir.
"You are bleeding?"
"What?" Legolas pointed at his forehead. Faramir pushed his hair back, and wiped his hands over the area. Sure enough, there was blood there - and what's more, it had trickled down his face, and he had not even noticed. [I must have cut myself when I hit my head.] He muttered to himself. "I have to go get a bandage -"
"I will go with you," Legolas said firmly. "No wonder you have a headache. Where did you get that?" he asked, with a hint of worry.
"I fell down the stairs in the Steward's rooms. I hit my head then, I think." Faramir looked down at his feet, as they made their way out of the Palace. What must he think of me?
"And that's why you never came to the meeting." Faramir nodded his head, but still refused to look up. "Why didn't you tell Aragorn that? He wouldn't have been angry then, you know."
"Did he give me an opportunity?" Faramir asked bitterly. "I tried, but he cut me off, until eventually I forgot to even mention it."
"You shouldn't feel badly about all of this," Legolas said gently, reading Faramir's actions like a book. "A fall can happen to anyone. No one will mind about this." Faramir nodded again, but unconvincingly. They walked in silence to the healers.