Author's note: Hey, how is everyone? Hectic week. Hope you enjoy Chapter 5!
Chapter 6 has been planned already and it won't be too far behind. Please
keep reviewing! And thanks to all those who've kept reading! If you're
looking for more packed action, keep reading because it'll come. Battles
and all that. Not far behind.
Faramir
I swallowed. 'Twas not my brother behind that door, I thought. It couldn't be. The voice was so much more different. Deeper. Graver. And yet, it sounded more kind.
Oh no. Eladion. He'd said that there was also another chamber with an etched star. It belonged to one of the Steward's sons. Oh no, what if it was Boromir? Or even worse, Faramir?
I pushed open the door and my worst fears were confirmed. For there stood Faramir of Gondor. In his hand, he held some papers. His face gave away a bemused expression. He tilted his head to one side.
"Did Boromir leave you stranded in some alley?" he asked with a serious expression.
Not understanding the question, I said, "No, my lord."
He strode over and opened the door wider. He gestured to the room. "Come inside." He said.
"Oh, I'd don't think I should, my lord." I shook my head. Whoever heard of the Son of the Steward inviting a lady into his chambers, in the middle of the night, without a proper chaperone? People would talk.
He sighed and rang the bell, which was situated like the one in my room. "Will you come in now." He asked.
I suppressed a giggle. He was just so charismatic. His soldier like clothing from earlier in the night was replaced with dark breeches and a cuffed white shirt. His brown hair had been hastily combed but his eyes shone nevertheless.
"If you insist, my lord." I said.
"I do."
I stepped inside his room. He kept the door opened for whoever he had called. Faramir put the papers he had been holding onto his desk. It faced a window which overlooked the fields of the Pelennor. His desk had a fair amount of papers, bottles of ink and multiple quills.
I frowned, "I apologize if I disturbed you, my lord."
He waved a hand, "No, no, I was just writing poetry."
Poetry? The son of the Steward of Gondor: writing poetry? Shouldn't he have been working on archery or mapping, or the blade arts? I must have looked stunned, because he continued, "Boromir looks just like that when I tell him about my latest compositions."
A guilty feeling plagued me, "I'm sorry, my lord. I didn't mean to offend you."
"It's true. Few young men would choose to write poetry instead of going to war. It is also true that I am one of those few."
I didn't like the way this conversation was going. It seemed uncomfortable for him too. I turned the subject around. "My lord, I really cannot stay. I'm really sorry for what happened earlier this evening. If there is any way I could make amends." I trailed off.
He nodded curtly, "It's fine. I'm sorry about pushing the table at you like that. I lost control of my feelings."
I cast my eyes down, "I should go now."
"Ah yes." He said.
At that moment, a soldier about the same age as Faramir appeared at the door, out of breath.
"Sorry, Captain. I heard you. But the.my lord, are you busy." He looked from me to Faramir and back again.
"No, no, Mablung. This is Lady Ariaelle of Imladris. My lady, this is Mablung, second in command of the Ithilien Rangers." Mablung bowed and I curtseyed. "Mablung, three glasses of wine for the three of us? Red wine?"
"My lord," I interrupted, "Like I said, I must go soon. You really mustn't go to the trouble of.all this. I have food waiting in my room anyhow."
But he would not back down. He said nothing but gestured to Mablung to close the door.
Mablung raised an eyebrow, "My lord, what." A wave of Faramir's hand silenced him and he went off to get the drinks.
He pulled up a chair for me and I sat. One, I enjoyed his company so much I didn't want to ever leave. Two, I needed to get those saddlebags.
Three, they might see.
And now there were two people. The possibility of seeing will have been doubled. It would be just too risky.
Faramir brought a blanket over and set it around my shoulders. He was so close that I began to tremble. The concentration was unbearable.
"Are you alright? I really want you to stay but if you really want to leave you're free to go. I'm very sorry about telling you what to do like that. It's not like me. It's- " I had the impression he was going to say it was about his headache. The guilty feeling stabbed me until I couldn't fight back.
"How are you feeling?" he asked. "You really shouldn't go out in that state of dress. It's far too cold."
"I'm fine." Was my only reply.
Apparently, I'd used the wrong tone of voice. I didn't mean it. Really. He stepped back and pulled up a chair and sat opposite me.
Faramir sighed. "I'm sorry, my lady. But could I ask you one more thing?"
"My lord, don't apologize. It's me who should be doing that. I didn't mean it to be like that. I'm just really-" I paused, "Well, I'm just tired." To tell the truth, I was so stressed out, I could barely breathe.
He nodded, "What did Boromir mean? About your eyes?"
A cold feeling swept through me. Oh no, he's asked. What do I do?
And I made the damned mistake of looking up to answer him.
And then it happened.
I tried desperately to move my eyes away. But wherever my eyes flitted, his followed curiously. Finally, they locked and I could no longer move.
I shuddered as the vision came to me. It was as cold as ice. I fought it. But there was no way I could stop it from coming. Finally, it filled my mind. I gasped.
And he saw.
The vision left, leaving me weak. I shook once more and fell. He bounded up and caught me quickly. I was still trembling but he held me closer to him.
For a long moment he stood there, bent over me, arms enfolding me.
Mablung arrived finally. "I'm sorry it took so-" With a shocked expression, he put all three glasses on the shelf. "Captain?" he began.
"She's hurt and she could faint any minute. Help me put her on the bed." Faramir replied calmly.
The room spun and I held tighter onto Faramir. He stiffened. He gently tried to unwrap my arms from him. I was scared. Would he let me go? Push me away?
"Let go." He said softly. "I've got you."
I had no choice but to do as he said and he caught me and picked me up. Suddenly, a sharp pain exploded in my head and I fought to stifle a cry of pain. Faramir tightened his arms around my knees and shoulders as though he were afraid he would drop me.
Mablung had pulled the covers off the bed. Faramir put me gently in the midst of them and quickly covered me with the blankets.
Too weak to resist, I let him finish tucking me in. I could do nothing but shiver and tremble every two minutes. He looked concernedly at me, unsure of whether I would just pass out. He looked like he wanted me to pass out, instead of knowing what I felt like now. He bent down and touched my cheek. He then put a hand above my slightly parted lips. Satisfied, he spoke to Mablung.
"A light blanket, if you would." He said.
Mablung only nodded and hurried away. Faramir frowned and turned once again to me. His calm eyes were comforting but I could barely feel anything. The edges of my vision blurred again. And again. I shuddered and he put a hand on my forehead.
My vision cleared. For the moment.
"Go to sleep. You're in no shape for talking." I merely blinked. And then it hit me.
I was in the Steward's son's room, having arrived in the middle of the night. And now I'm sleeping in his bed? I mean, how insane was that? If Father ever found out, or even brother?
He unclasped a chain from his neck. My vision had become blurry again so I could not figure out what sort of pendant hung from it. He dropped it onto my palm, put his hand in mine and closed his eyes. After a moment, he murmured a few words in perfect Sindarin.
My vision dulled and I blinked wearily. Closing my eyes, I sunk into dreams.
Into dreams.
Faramir
I swallowed. 'Twas not my brother behind that door, I thought. It couldn't be. The voice was so much more different. Deeper. Graver. And yet, it sounded more kind.
Oh no. Eladion. He'd said that there was also another chamber with an etched star. It belonged to one of the Steward's sons. Oh no, what if it was Boromir? Or even worse, Faramir?
I pushed open the door and my worst fears were confirmed. For there stood Faramir of Gondor. In his hand, he held some papers. His face gave away a bemused expression. He tilted his head to one side.
"Did Boromir leave you stranded in some alley?" he asked with a serious expression.
Not understanding the question, I said, "No, my lord."
He strode over and opened the door wider. He gestured to the room. "Come inside." He said.
"Oh, I'd don't think I should, my lord." I shook my head. Whoever heard of the Son of the Steward inviting a lady into his chambers, in the middle of the night, without a proper chaperone? People would talk.
He sighed and rang the bell, which was situated like the one in my room. "Will you come in now." He asked.
I suppressed a giggle. He was just so charismatic. His soldier like clothing from earlier in the night was replaced with dark breeches and a cuffed white shirt. His brown hair had been hastily combed but his eyes shone nevertheless.
"If you insist, my lord." I said.
"I do."
I stepped inside his room. He kept the door opened for whoever he had called. Faramir put the papers he had been holding onto his desk. It faced a window which overlooked the fields of the Pelennor. His desk had a fair amount of papers, bottles of ink and multiple quills.
I frowned, "I apologize if I disturbed you, my lord."
He waved a hand, "No, no, I was just writing poetry."
Poetry? The son of the Steward of Gondor: writing poetry? Shouldn't he have been working on archery or mapping, or the blade arts? I must have looked stunned, because he continued, "Boromir looks just like that when I tell him about my latest compositions."
A guilty feeling plagued me, "I'm sorry, my lord. I didn't mean to offend you."
"It's true. Few young men would choose to write poetry instead of going to war. It is also true that I am one of those few."
I didn't like the way this conversation was going. It seemed uncomfortable for him too. I turned the subject around. "My lord, I really cannot stay. I'm really sorry for what happened earlier this evening. If there is any way I could make amends." I trailed off.
He nodded curtly, "It's fine. I'm sorry about pushing the table at you like that. I lost control of my feelings."
I cast my eyes down, "I should go now."
"Ah yes." He said.
At that moment, a soldier about the same age as Faramir appeared at the door, out of breath.
"Sorry, Captain. I heard you. But the.my lord, are you busy." He looked from me to Faramir and back again.
"No, no, Mablung. This is Lady Ariaelle of Imladris. My lady, this is Mablung, second in command of the Ithilien Rangers." Mablung bowed and I curtseyed. "Mablung, three glasses of wine for the three of us? Red wine?"
"My lord," I interrupted, "Like I said, I must go soon. You really mustn't go to the trouble of.all this. I have food waiting in my room anyhow."
But he would not back down. He said nothing but gestured to Mablung to close the door.
Mablung raised an eyebrow, "My lord, what." A wave of Faramir's hand silenced him and he went off to get the drinks.
He pulled up a chair for me and I sat. One, I enjoyed his company so much I didn't want to ever leave. Two, I needed to get those saddlebags.
Three, they might see.
And now there were two people. The possibility of seeing will have been doubled. It would be just too risky.
Faramir brought a blanket over and set it around my shoulders. He was so close that I began to tremble. The concentration was unbearable.
"Are you alright? I really want you to stay but if you really want to leave you're free to go. I'm very sorry about telling you what to do like that. It's not like me. It's- " I had the impression he was going to say it was about his headache. The guilty feeling stabbed me until I couldn't fight back.
"How are you feeling?" he asked. "You really shouldn't go out in that state of dress. It's far too cold."
"I'm fine." Was my only reply.
Apparently, I'd used the wrong tone of voice. I didn't mean it. Really. He stepped back and pulled up a chair and sat opposite me.
Faramir sighed. "I'm sorry, my lady. But could I ask you one more thing?"
"My lord, don't apologize. It's me who should be doing that. I didn't mean it to be like that. I'm just really-" I paused, "Well, I'm just tired." To tell the truth, I was so stressed out, I could barely breathe.
He nodded, "What did Boromir mean? About your eyes?"
A cold feeling swept through me. Oh no, he's asked. What do I do?
And I made the damned mistake of looking up to answer him.
And then it happened.
I tried desperately to move my eyes away. But wherever my eyes flitted, his followed curiously. Finally, they locked and I could no longer move.
I shuddered as the vision came to me. It was as cold as ice. I fought it. But there was no way I could stop it from coming. Finally, it filled my mind. I gasped.
And he saw.
The vision left, leaving me weak. I shook once more and fell. He bounded up and caught me quickly. I was still trembling but he held me closer to him.
For a long moment he stood there, bent over me, arms enfolding me.
Mablung arrived finally. "I'm sorry it took so-" With a shocked expression, he put all three glasses on the shelf. "Captain?" he began.
"She's hurt and she could faint any minute. Help me put her on the bed." Faramir replied calmly.
The room spun and I held tighter onto Faramir. He stiffened. He gently tried to unwrap my arms from him. I was scared. Would he let me go? Push me away?
"Let go." He said softly. "I've got you."
I had no choice but to do as he said and he caught me and picked me up. Suddenly, a sharp pain exploded in my head and I fought to stifle a cry of pain. Faramir tightened his arms around my knees and shoulders as though he were afraid he would drop me.
Mablung had pulled the covers off the bed. Faramir put me gently in the midst of them and quickly covered me with the blankets.
Too weak to resist, I let him finish tucking me in. I could do nothing but shiver and tremble every two minutes. He looked concernedly at me, unsure of whether I would just pass out. He looked like he wanted me to pass out, instead of knowing what I felt like now. He bent down and touched my cheek. He then put a hand above my slightly parted lips. Satisfied, he spoke to Mablung.
"A light blanket, if you would." He said.
Mablung only nodded and hurried away. Faramir frowned and turned once again to me. His calm eyes were comforting but I could barely feel anything. The edges of my vision blurred again. And again. I shuddered and he put a hand on my forehead.
My vision cleared. For the moment.
"Go to sleep. You're in no shape for talking." I merely blinked. And then it hit me.
I was in the Steward's son's room, having arrived in the middle of the night. And now I'm sleeping in his bed? I mean, how insane was that? If Father ever found out, or even brother?
He unclasped a chain from his neck. My vision had become blurry again so I could not figure out what sort of pendant hung from it. He dropped it onto my palm, put his hand in mine and closed his eyes. After a moment, he murmured a few words in perfect Sindarin.
My vision dulled and I blinked wearily. Closing my eyes, I sunk into dreams.
Into dreams.