A/N: Aww, thanks for the reviews and the encouragement! But sadly, from now on, the chapters may come a bit more slower, since Regents week is almost at an end. *siiigh* Back to the pits of hell on Monday... _! No! You can't make me go back! *spaz*
Mai; Thankyu! Your review really motivated me to keep on going! Yeah! Down with Lianna! *holds up a pitchfork* Ooo... I'm going against my own OC... Jebb; Heh, I wonder what Denethor would do too... and also, thanks to Emerald Phoenix2 and Jopru! And thanks ESPECIALLY to Bjam for betaing!
I found out how to make italics and bolds! W00t! *does the snoopy dance* But it makes all these huge spaces in the document, but eh. You can still read it, right?
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Chapter Three - Deception the Snake
Dreams constantly plagued him as the night deepened and faded away, giving way for dawn to rise.
"Faramir... Faramir... ...Faramir..."
A voice seemingly filled with anxiety- no louder than a whisper, called his name over and over again. Maybe change this to ¡°Faramir winced, not wanting to answer. This voice persisted in trying to get Faramir¡¯s full attention. Pulling his blankets up he attempted to sleep on in peace and quiet.¡±
"Waaaah?" He finally mumbled groggily in annoyance. It was probably some maid, telling him to get up so that she could make his bed.
"It will burn... burn... burn away..." the voice grew faint.
He opened one eye to find that it was completely black around him. Slowly, he started to sit up on his sheets, looking around wildly. The bleak darkness stretched as far as he could see, and found no beacon of light that could at least comfort him. "What?" He croaked, his voice cracky from having just woken up.
Silence greeted him.
"What?" He asked again. The hairs on the back of his neck started to rise, and goosebumps popped up on his arms. He shuddered. He could feel that there was something near him... he reached out his hand, searching blindly for the lamp that stood on a small table next to him. But the table was not there- only empty air. Faramir slowly began to stand up, trying to swallow the sudden fear that began to well up in his throat. There was something in his chambers- he knew it, and it was best to meet it standing... "Who are you?" The sea of darkness seemed to drown away his words. He was wide awake now, his sleepiness forgotten in a moment of desperation and confusion.
"The city... will burn away..."
A sudden burst of unearthly white light made Faramir hold his breath. He shut his eyes to protect them against the sudden contrast of luminescence.
The glare dimmed, and after a few seconds, he could make out white towers that stood proudly on flat, green land next to a wide river. Faramir squinted at the place, and then abruptly gasped in recognition. "Osgiliath!" He whispered hoarsely.
"Burn it all... in fire and blood..."
"Why do you show me this?!" he demanded of the voice, mimicking the powerful tone that Denethor used when dealing with officials that angered him.
"Burning..."
White-hot flames licked up, devouring the towers and buildings that once stood so strong. Thick black smoke rose up from what was once Gondor's jewel and last line of defense. Faramir could feel the mind numbing heat that rose from the great fire that hungrily destroyed the city. He wanted to step away from the burning city, but found that he could not move. "Do something! Stop it!" He said to the voice again. It did not answer again. "Who are you?! Show yourself!"
- - - - - - -
Faramir opened his eyes, half expecting to see pure darkness in front of him. Instead, his eyes adjusted to soft sunlight that filtered in the room through the window curtains. He looked to his right, and saw the table that he had so desperately grabbed for in his dream. 'It was a dream?' he asked himself, confused. 'Yes, it must have been.' His hands, nevertheless his entire body was slicked with salty sweat, his blanket cast onto the ground in a heap from his relentless tossing and turning during the night. He shifted his body on the bed, but the slight movement made the back of his head started to throb madly.
"Good morning, my lord," An old voice spoke from his side. He looked up to see Alimena, who gently laid a wet cloth on his forehead. "You were crying out in your sleep."
"How long have you been by my side?" He could not speak any more than a scratchy whisper, his parched throat aching for water.
"But five minutes, Lord Faramir." She patted his arm in a motherly fashion. She had looked after Faramir since he was a child, and was accustomed to him.
"What was I saying?" He murmured drowsily. He rubbed his head, trying to comfort the pain, but to no avail.
"You were saying 'show yourself', my lord,'" she answered lightly.
"Ah."
Alimena nodded. "The Lord Boromir told me to tell you to drink this as soon as you wake up. He predicted that you will have a headache." She held up a small glass vial filled with clear fluid. Faramir sat up in his bed and gratefully took it from her hands and unscrewed the stopper before eagerly gulping it down. When he had finished, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
"How did Boromir know that I was going to have a headache?" Faramir asked of the old servant as she moved toward the window to pull away the curtains.
"I did not think it was my place to ask," she answered, her back turned from him.
"Ai..." Faramir muttered to himself, leaning back again on his soft pillows. The medicine was beginning to course through his blood, but it would still take about ten minutes for the ache to leave him.
Alimena walked over and took the cloth away from his forehead.
"You may go," He dismissed her, needing to be alone. She bowed and then walked out.
Faramir cursed under his breath after he heard the doors click as they closed, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. He was still in the clothes that he wore last night, and the sight of his dark blue gown unearthed a flood of memories. He scrubbed at his face with his fists. The balcony... the night... Lianna... the wine... Faramir closed his eyes, feeling heat rise onto his face. "Errgh!" He groaned, lying back down again, his hands covering his now-red cheeks. He only remembered little snitches of his time on the balcony, but the pieces were enough for him to remember what, exactly, was going on- Lianna with her blue eyes and her practiced wiles, and Boromir barging in to save the day. 'Boromir always saves the day,' Faramir thought bitterly, annoyed that his brother had saw him in the position he was in last night. And I always need to be rescued like some... like a damsel in distress!
'That's because you're little more than a damsel in distress,' an evil whisper found its way to his mind. He sighed, trying to put aside the unreasonable hostile feelings that had leapt up inside him. At least the remedy was working; the dull ache that pestered him was beginning to fade away.
He grudgingly got up and began his morning duties, feeling that it was time for him to get on with the day.
Faramir dragged himself grudgingly out of his room, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of the chance of seeing Boromir and Denethor. After last night's events, he did not want to see anyone at all, for fear of embarrassing himself even further. He began to head downstairs, so that he could go to the library; his sanctuary. It was a habit that he had begun since when he was but a mere child. He would drown himself in books and learning whenever he felt depressed. He still continued to do so, finding a comfort in his pursuit of knowledge that he would never find in sparring
His footsteps echoed through the almost empty hallways. Faramir looked up at the clamoring sound of someone's heavy steps, and saw Boromir jogging towards him.
"Good morning, brother," Boromir yawned at the sight of his young kin, scratching his arm as he closed the doors behind him. He slowed his pace to match that of Faramir's. "Are you going to eat breakfast?"
"No, I'm not hungry. I'm going to the library," Faramir answered.
"So the potion worked?" he asked in a low, conspiring voice after glancing around to see if anyone was nearby.
"Yes- which brings me to ask you- how did you know I would have a headache?"
"Because... Faramir... about last night..." he quieted as a maid passed by, his brow furrowing. "You do remember what happened, don't you?"
"Yes, brother," Faramir answered, an impatient edge to his voice. "I was not so much drunk that I would forget something like that."
"Ah, the Lady Lianna is hard to erase from a man's mind," Boromir said dryly. "We need to talk."
"I hardly need to have 'the birds and the bees' speech again, if that is what you're getting at,¡± he spoke through clenched teeth. He kept his eyes focused on the white floor in front of him, not wanting to look at his brother. Perhaps Boromir will feel the hostility radiating from him and leave him alone.
"No, it's not that. Just... just listen."
Faramir looked away, trying to act indifferent.
"Well... um... I'm not sure where to start, but..."
"But?"
Boromir rubbed his chin. "This is hard."
"Suck it in, brother."
The Steward's elder son sighed. "Fine. The Lady Lianna... you have found out already- she isn't, exactly, a woman of morals. And... you are aware of her position?"
"Father's mistress. Yes, I know," Faramir unveiled his annoyance. "I am not a child, brother. Not anymore."
"Yesterday, I found you- and her- and I realized what she was doing- and it's just-" he sighed again before letting it out in one breath. "She is a dangerous woman who seeks to corrupt the minds of men, especially yours, and you should stay away from her."
"I know." Though Faramir possessed a slow temper, he was growing increasingly upset at how Boromir was treating him. He was already ticked off from the strange dream, as well as being made a fool out of in front of a lady...
"I know you know, but I also know you don't know the severity of this situation! Listen, Faramir... she... she is shrewd. She'll weave a golden net out of little more than meaningless words to catch you in- I know... because... she caught me once," Boromir looked down on the floor. "I don't want you to go through the same experience," he half-whispered. "She uses you, then discards you, and you end up begging... and... your honor is lost..." he faded off with a shudder, closing his eyes. The situation was far worse than his young brother thought it was, but he could not bring himself to reveal his darkest secrets. Because of Lianna, he had lost a battle against the Orcs at Ithilien. She consumed his mind as he drew up the tactics, and his army was defeated. Though he regrouped and mercilessly attacked the Orcs later on, guilt burned in his mind. He had left his men to face death while he daydreamed about a whore. Many died because of his foolish mistake.
Faramir looked at his crestfallen brother, using all of his willpower to hide the overwhelming shock that he felt at Boromir's words. Boromir had never let out the slightest hint of this dark personality. It was also strange to see such a common weakness that was found in most men in his brother- in his powerful, strong, admirable brother- the man that he had looked up to all of his life. He had always imagined the older son of the Steward to be invincible. "So, there is a side to my best friend that has been hidden from me," he said lightly, trying to cheer him up.
"It is not a side I am proud of," Boromir looked up, letting Faramir see the anguish in his eyes. A question also burned within them. "But do you not think it strange? She is Father's mistress, but she comes for me, and now you..."
"A pattern." Faramir's agile mind quickly grasped the idea. "Do you think she is after power?"
Boromir shrugged. "That was my first thought. But she is as unpredictable as a storm." Returning to the subject, he said, "Stay away from the lady. You were not drunk- you were drugged. She drugged you, little brother, in hopes that would help her bend your will to her."
"Drugged..." The pieces slowly came together. 'That was why she was watching me... that was why it was so hot...'
In light of this new information, Faramir felt closer to Boromir than ever, as two victims of the same person. However, he could not cast aside the earlier thought that he had- that Boromir always had to save his little brother from the evil clutches of Middle Earth. 'No wonder Denethor looks down upon you,' the nasty voice spoke up again before Faramir wrestled it down.
"You understand now?"
"Brother, where did she come from?" he asked. All he knew was that she appeared one day.
"The streets, I suppose..." he paused. "She was a nobody until she found favor in the Steward Denethor's eyes while he was mingling with the commoners one day. He elevated her status to where she is now."
"'A nobody?' Boromir, nobody is a nobody," Faramir lightly berated his brother for his poor choice of words.
"You know what I mean," He dismissed Faramir's disapproval with a wave of his hand. "I suppose she is an orphan. It was a subject that she avoided as much as possible."
"Lord Faramir!" A guard was walking up the hall that the brothers were walking down.
"Good morning, Silas," Faramir nodded.
"The Steward Denethor wants a word with you," The guard bowed respectfully. Faramir exchanged looks with Boromir at the man's message.
"Very well," he nodded, dismissing the guard.
"It is probably about the Lady Lianna. I will come with you," Boromir said instantly.
"I can handle it alone," Faramir protested. "Besides, he might want to speak with me about other matters."
"Such as what? No, I know it. I told you she was sly."
"Brother, you are just being paranoid," Faramir raised an eyebrow at the man's sudden strange attitude.
"Every time Father wants to talk to you in private, he ends up picking at what he sees not fit in you."
"And you want to be there to protect me from him?"
"It is not that-"
"Then what is it?" For what may be the first time, Faramir cut off his brother. "You cannot protect me forever. I am growing up, whether you are aware of the fact or not." He paused, and looked into Boromir's eyes that mirrored hurt at being rejected. "I'm sorry," he said in a more gentle voice.
After what seemed to be an eternity in which the brothers stared each other down, Boromir let out a deep sigh. "No, you are right. I'm acting like Grandmother." He clapped Faramir on the shoulder. "Go alone,¡± he said, but the worried glint in his eyes said the exact opposite of his words.
- - - - - - -
"Good morning, Father." Faramir was careful to keep his face from showing his true emotions, as he always did when standing in front of Denethor. He let only the barest of smiles grace his lips so that his father would not suspect of how cautious he was being. The hall was empty, except for the father and son. The air also was unusually still.
"Ah, Faramir." Denethor sat comfortably upon a stone throne as if it were rightfully his. He did not greet his son any further.
"You wanted to speak with me?"
"Yes."
A silence issued. Denethor's sharp eyes bore into his son, trying to make him sweat and reveal the anxiety hidden in him. But unfortunately, he had taught Faramir too well. His son's shuttered expression did not change. Feeling stripped of a small victory that would've easily been his if the young man standing in front of him was Boromir, he frowned. "Lady Lianna had complained to me about your behavior last night."
Faramir's eyes widened and his rigid stance jerked. "My behavior?"
Denethor leaned back in his royal chair. "Yes." he said flatly.
"I assure you, I have done nothing discourteous toward Lady Lianna," he answered. The tightness of his voice bespoke of restrained emotions.
"But you had," Denethor scowled. "The Lady Lianna is beautiful, I admit that. The way you conducted yourself was most inappropriate. I had no idea how corrupt you were until now. You disgrace my house. How dare you?"
"Father, by Valor, I have no idea what you are speaking of-"
"I will have none of it! Do not try to justify your actions!" Denethor's voice rose swiftly.
"What actions am I supposed to try to justify?" Faramir's temper was surfacing as well.
"The fact that you tried to force yourself on the lady, despite her express wishes that she did not want to-"
"I did nothing of the sort!" Faramir cut him off, blind with outrage. "She is lying!"
"Do not cut me off, boy!" The steward's cheeks were turning pink, his eyes shining with fury. His hands tightened on the hilt of the sword that was clipped onto his belt, his knuckles growing white.
Faramir bit back the harsh words that were about to roll off his tongue. From experience, he knew that there was no use in further angering his father. After a few moments, he regained his composure. "I'm sorry, Father. But I swear, I did not touch her." He could not bring himself to confess that it was her that did all the touching and seducing.
"Why should I believe you? Your uses are few; you are a good-for-nothing."
"Whose word would you believe- your son's, or your mistress's?" Faramir demanded.
"At least I know my mistress will be honest, unlike my son," Denethor said in an icy quiet tone.
This time, Faramir was not quick enough to hide the shock and hurt that he felt. His eyes flickered with his true emotions, and Denethor felt an unfamiliar pang of guilt in his stomach. But he continued to reprimand his son. "For attempting to rape a lady, the punishment is death. I would have banned you from the rest of the festivities, but the Lady Lianna is merciful. She forgives you. Be grateful to her."
"I am accused of a wrong that I never committed. I will not-"
"Boy, you are testing my patience. There is no use arguing. Be gone!" Denethor dismissed Faramir, looking away. Faramir stared at his father for a few seconds, his emotions in turmoil, feeling revulsion and hatred toward the Lady Lianna. He was biting his tongue without knowing it, and now bitter and metallic-tasting blood spilled from the cut that he had made. Faramir bowed jerkily to his father before storming out of the hall.
Throughout his life, Faramir grew up to believe that Minas Tirith was the stronghold of innocence, beauty, and true love. He thought it to be the beacon of light of Middle-Earth, the shining defenders of the free people against Mordor, the pride of Men, the city of Kings. After all, where else on Middle Earth did the White Trees grow? Fealty with love, valor with honor. But slowly, as he grew up, the vision crumbled. Even so, he held on to his hope that the citadel still retained some of the virtues that he used to believe it had. Yet, now, his dreams had been stripped away- all because of a young woman. Faramir could not repress a shudder. His brother; defiled. His father; lost. What am I to believe in now? He looked around the stone halls- the white stone halls. He could walk blind in the castle and still know where he was; the castle was his home. But strangely, he felt confused, alone, and forsaken.
As if he were in a dream, he stumbled down to the library, longing to find the sense of well-being and comfort that he always felt in the solitude of books. But not today. Faramir sighed, his hand idly reaching out for a book. Without looking at the title, he flipped through the pages, not reading it in particular. But something caught his eye-
Faramir turned back to the page. "A map," he murmured to himself, running his hand down the brittle sheet of yellowing paper. He looked back at the title of the leather-bound book- "The History of Gondor and its Territories." Hardly interesting. But the map... he gazed at the detailed image. The artist took the time to painstakingly name all, or most of the geographical features of the west part of Middle-Earth. With his finger, he traced the course of the Anduin River, the wheels in his head turning.
In front of Faramir was the beginnings of a plan- a way to regain the steward's trust and respect- and perhaps, love. He tore the page out of the book with renewed determination.
