A/N: I changed three words in the last chapter, and now Faramir is an elite ranger! :) I hope you all like this chapter; I don't particularly. Don't forget that I love your reviews! (shameless, I know)
Chapter 10
When the hay cart at last passed through the Great Gate in the late afternoon, it was met by the City Guard, who assumed the duty of escorting the sons of the steward to the Houses of Healing in the sixth circle. Word had quickly circulated throughout the city of Lord Faramir's disappearance, but it hadn't prepared the citizens of Minas Tirith, who were just going about their everyday business, for the sight that greeted their eyes as the wain passed by them. Many called blessings out after him. Some immediately dropped upon their knees and prayed. Others thought him already dead and wept bitterly as he was borne past.
Boromir kept his face down as they moved through the streets, concentrating only upon Faramir. He was secretly glad that his brother was unaware of this outpouring of concern from the Gondorians, knowing that the ranger would be embarrassed if he knew that he had been seen thusly by so many. It was gratifying for Boromir, though, to know that their people loved the Lord Faramir so much, for often the ranger had expressed concern that his apparent unworthiness kept him from being truly loved by anyone but Boromir. It was a ridiculous thought, of course, but the warrior had never been able to convince Faramir otherwise. The damage that their father had inflicted upon him had affected him very deeply.
Boromir took a sidelong glance at the strange woman who rode silently with them. She seemed to be trying to keep out of sight, and he decided that it was probably because she was unused to crowds. But she need not have worried about them, for the people of Gondor had eyes only for Faramir this day. Boromir grimaced when he thought about how he would explain her presence to his father, knowing that Denethor would never believe what Faramir had said about her, especially when he didn't believe it himself. Hoping for her sake that her wish to help was genuine, he murmured grimly under his breath, "Denethor shall find you very interesting indeed."
He was startled to find that she had been able to hear his words, as she said, "If you are speaking of your father, I have no doubt that he shall, though I doubt that I shall be a welcome sight for him."
The warrior nodded in agreement. "It would probably be best if you were not seen by him at all."
"How am I to remain close to your brother then?"
He considered her for a moment. "Whose blood was upon that orcish blade that I found upon the ground next to my brother? Was it yours?"
She considered him now. "Nay. I am uninjured," she answered at length.
"But I found no sword wound in my brother's flesh."
She would have to tell him the truth eventually. "I took it from him."
Boromir narrowed his eyes as he stared into the black depths of her hood, uncertain that he had heard her correctly. "What do you mean that you took it from him? You took the blade from him?"
"Look upon his chest, upon the skin on the left side, near his heart. There is a faint red scar there that shall fade in time." Boromir gently moved the cloaks away from Faramir's chest and searched as she spoke. He found the mark as she said, "If his back was not yet so badly injured, you would find a matching mark there where the blade entered his body."
"Faramir has never been seriously injured in combat before. If he had been, I would have been informed. Yet here is a scar that is unfamiliar to me." He looked back to her.
"That was the wound that killed him this morning, orch-inflicted with the blade that you found. I took it from him."
Boromir's mouth gaped. "What?" he whispered. His mind was reeling in disbelief.
She continued. "Your name was the last word that he spoke. . . . Boromir."
"You expect me to believe that he was dead this morning, but now he lives?" the Man groaned.
"It is truth. He died of his wounds, but I returned his life to him."
"But how is that possible?"
"It is my gift," she murmured, though briefly Boromir thought from the tone of her voice that she considered it anything but a gift.
Slowly, the warrior covered his brother again and then sat quietly, holding his hand, stroking the fingers as he thought, trying to decide what was the truth. The wain had nearly reached the sixth circle before Boromir arrived at a decision. "You know as well as I do that no man can live long with the wounds that Faramir has sustained. If you can help him as you say, then do it now, before we arrive at the Houses of Healing."
"I wish that I could, but . . . something happened that prevents me from helping him further until I have recovered my strength." She bowed her head, her gaze upon Faramir.
"Do not play me false!" exclaimed Boromir, his ire rising quickly.
"I would not, but I require a few more hours of rest before I can aid him further. I wish that it was not so."
"As do I," he mumbled. He spared one last caress for Faramir's fingers before he rose quickly, leaping over the side of the cart and onto the road, indicating that she should do the same. The City Guard continued on, saying nothing as she followed him. He quickly led her into an inn called the Brindle Boar. The innkeeper greeted his lord with a smile, though he looked very curious about Boromir's mysterious companion. There were a few quietly-spoken words between the Men, and the warrior slipped the innkeeper a few coins before he turned back to her.
"Here you must stay until I come for you."
"But I cannot stray too far from your brother, else I cannot maintain his painless rest. Already I am losing sense of him."
Boromir looked doubtful but then sighed as he rubbed his face tiredly. He wished that it was he who was getting some rest. "It cannot be helped. At the soonest opportunity, I will fetch you again to his side."
She nodded and, following the innkeeper, climbed the stairs to the second level. Quickly, the warrior left the building, running to catch the wain before it stopped at the entrance to the Houses of Healing, hoping that his father would arrive there quickly and then leave just as quickly.
Chapter 10
When the hay cart at last passed through the Great Gate in the late afternoon, it was met by the City Guard, who assumed the duty of escorting the sons of the steward to the Houses of Healing in the sixth circle. Word had quickly circulated throughout the city of Lord Faramir's disappearance, but it hadn't prepared the citizens of Minas Tirith, who were just going about their everyday business, for the sight that greeted their eyes as the wain passed by them. Many called blessings out after him. Some immediately dropped upon their knees and prayed. Others thought him already dead and wept bitterly as he was borne past.
Boromir kept his face down as they moved through the streets, concentrating only upon Faramir. He was secretly glad that his brother was unaware of this outpouring of concern from the Gondorians, knowing that the ranger would be embarrassed if he knew that he had been seen thusly by so many. It was gratifying for Boromir, though, to know that their people loved the Lord Faramir so much, for often the ranger had expressed concern that his apparent unworthiness kept him from being truly loved by anyone but Boromir. It was a ridiculous thought, of course, but the warrior had never been able to convince Faramir otherwise. The damage that their father had inflicted upon him had affected him very deeply.
Boromir took a sidelong glance at the strange woman who rode silently with them. She seemed to be trying to keep out of sight, and he decided that it was probably because she was unused to crowds. But she need not have worried about them, for the people of Gondor had eyes only for Faramir this day. Boromir grimaced when he thought about how he would explain her presence to his father, knowing that Denethor would never believe what Faramir had said about her, especially when he didn't believe it himself. Hoping for her sake that her wish to help was genuine, he murmured grimly under his breath, "Denethor shall find you very interesting indeed."
He was startled to find that she had been able to hear his words, as she said, "If you are speaking of your father, I have no doubt that he shall, though I doubt that I shall be a welcome sight for him."
The warrior nodded in agreement. "It would probably be best if you were not seen by him at all."
"How am I to remain close to your brother then?"
He considered her for a moment. "Whose blood was upon that orcish blade that I found upon the ground next to my brother? Was it yours?"
She considered him now. "Nay. I am uninjured," she answered at length.
"But I found no sword wound in my brother's flesh."
She would have to tell him the truth eventually. "I took it from him."
Boromir narrowed his eyes as he stared into the black depths of her hood, uncertain that he had heard her correctly. "What do you mean that you took it from him? You took the blade from him?"
"Look upon his chest, upon the skin on the left side, near his heart. There is a faint red scar there that shall fade in time." Boromir gently moved the cloaks away from Faramir's chest and searched as she spoke. He found the mark as she said, "If his back was not yet so badly injured, you would find a matching mark there where the blade entered his body."
"Faramir has never been seriously injured in combat before. If he had been, I would have been informed. Yet here is a scar that is unfamiliar to me." He looked back to her.
"That was the wound that killed him this morning, orch-inflicted with the blade that you found. I took it from him."
Boromir's mouth gaped. "What?" he whispered. His mind was reeling in disbelief.
She continued. "Your name was the last word that he spoke. . . . Boromir."
"You expect me to believe that he was dead this morning, but now he lives?" the Man groaned.
"It is truth. He died of his wounds, but I returned his life to him."
"But how is that possible?"
"It is my gift," she murmured, though briefly Boromir thought from the tone of her voice that she considered it anything but a gift.
Slowly, the warrior covered his brother again and then sat quietly, holding his hand, stroking the fingers as he thought, trying to decide what was the truth. The wain had nearly reached the sixth circle before Boromir arrived at a decision. "You know as well as I do that no man can live long with the wounds that Faramir has sustained. If you can help him as you say, then do it now, before we arrive at the Houses of Healing."
"I wish that I could, but . . . something happened that prevents me from helping him further until I have recovered my strength." She bowed her head, her gaze upon Faramir.
"Do not play me false!" exclaimed Boromir, his ire rising quickly.
"I would not, but I require a few more hours of rest before I can aid him further. I wish that it was not so."
"As do I," he mumbled. He spared one last caress for Faramir's fingers before he rose quickly, leaping over the side of the cart and onto the road, indicating that she should do the same. The City Guard continued on, saying nothing as she followed him. He quickly led her into an inn called the Brindle Boar. The innkeeper greeted his lord with a smile, though he looked very curious about Boromir's mysterious companion. There were a few quietly-spoken words between the Men, and the warrior slipped the innkeeper a few coins before he turned back to her.
"Here you must stay until I come for you."
"But I cannot stray too far from your brother, else I cannot maintain his painless rest. Already I am losing sense of him."
Boromir looked doubtful but then sighed as he rubbed his face tiredly. He wished that it was he who was getting some rest. "It cannot be helped. At the soonest opportunity, I will fetch you again to his side."
She nodded and, following the innkeeper, climbed the stairs to the second level. Quickly, the warrior left the building, running to catch the wain before it stopped at the entrance to the Houses of Healing, hoping that his father would arrive there quickly and then leave just as quickly.