One Last Kiss
Part 13
Angel of the Night Watchers: Thanks very much for reviewing!
Elfy: Well, you've got your Faramir and Aragorn, though you probably won't like it too much.
Disclaimer: I don't own it...it owns me.
NOTE: This chapter among other things has changed the rating of the story to PG.
~*~
Faramir took in his surroundings with growing apprehension. His captor, the one who had taken him from the King's company, was half dragging, half pushing him towards what he had figured by now to be the ship's captain. From what he had heard, he was none other than Berékangu.
The crew member stopped walking and dropped him to the floor before the pirate captain. "Hello, rat. I've brought ye here to see if ye can tell me a bit o' 'bout that Gondor o' yers."
Faramir spat at his feet. "I would no sooner betray Gondor and my King than my King would betray his people!"
Berékangu chuckled darkly, exposing filthy, blackened, chipped teeth with more than one glint of gold coming from his mouth. "Well, that's all fine an' jolly, seein' how when we're done wi' you, the King'll be betrayin' himself in an instant."
"Unlikely," Faramir continued to defy the corsair.
Berékangu just sneered. "Bring out the cat o' nine tails, lads. We'll show this upstart whelp of the north just how convincing we can be, aye?"
"Aye!" The crew shouted back at him, perverse pleasure gleaming in their faces.
Berékangu relieved Faramir of his shirt with a knife he kept in his belt and the next instant had the Prince of Ithilien tied up to a post awaiting the worst.
Berékangu took aside the large man who had hauled Faramir from his prison and said to him in a low tone, "Don't stop until he yells, or ye'll be next." The captain handed him a long, nasty looking whip with bits of metal poking out through the entwined leather.
"Aye, Cap'n." The man bowed his head and turned his ferocious gaze to Faramir who at that moment was trying not to look as frightened as he was feeling. Drawing his muscular arm back, the whip cracked as it hit Faramir's back. But the man refused to scream.
~*~
Aragorn waited anxiously in the darkness of the dank cell. He could hear signs of what was happening to Faramir, though they were faint. He waited for an incredibly long time when at last he heard Faramir's voice saying 'I would no sooner betray Gondor and my King than my King would betray his people'. His breath caught. Faramir was trying to help all along! How could he have ever not been in total accord with this man? Aragorn listened to the rest of the conversation unfold and tensed up when the cat of nine tails was mentioned. They were torturing Faramir, without a doubt, for information of Gondor. And flogging him, at that!
He waited a while until at last he heard a terrified scream. Followed by raucous laughter, the span of a few minutes passed until he heard a loud snarl and more sobs to follow. He was seething, though he knew he could to nothing to help the Steward until he was returned to the cell. He bowed his head in grief and despair. How could he have not seen it before?
~*~
Faramir screamed in protest once more as he was subjected to the white-hot flame that was burning in his back. Then things started to grow dark, and he welcomed the darkness. It called to him and he readily abandoned the world to slip out of the pain of consciousness. He was, however, only to be woken from his death-like peace by a splash of salt water upon his wounds. His muscles screamed in agony as he was once again set up right to the post, but he had not the strength to protest.
The strike of the whip against his skin was heard countless times in the minutes to follow. When it became apparent to the pirates that they would get no information from this beaten, wasted man they sent a barrage of more salt water into the wounds for good measure and Berékangu sent him back to the cell in merciless agony.
~*~
Aragorn was by his side the moment Faramir was thrown into the cell. "Faramir" he breathed in disbelief. "What happened? Why did they do this to you?"
Faramir, teetering on the dashingly confusing twilight between the conscious word and the wonderfully peaceful darkness of unconsciousness, mumbled an incoherent response to his King's questioning.
Recognizing the Prince's need, Aragorn softly said, "Sleep, Faramir. Gain your rest and I will do what I can for your wounds."
Too tired and ignorant to care, Faramir plunged into the darkness and fell into a painful, albeit welcome sleep.
Aragorn moved towards his tunic. They had searched him, but had not discovered the inside pocket where he kept Athelas should aught go wrong on the campaign. Offering the Valar a silent prayer of thanks for his good fortune, he quickly took a small burlap sack from the pocket and pulled the drawstrings, revealing a mound of Athelas just enough to slightly relieve Faramir of his pain.
Swiftly crushing and sucking upon the dried leaves, he forced them into the deepest parts of the wounds and kept but a little for future use should it needed again during their captivity. In a final effort to provide comfort to the unconscious man, he put his own silk shirt upon Faramir, so that the lash wounds would be protected from the splinters and salty, contaminated water that graced the floors of the brig.
Making sure that there was naught else he could do for him, Aragorn settled back to fall into a troubled sleep.
~*~
Please Review!
Part 13
Angel of the Night Watchers: Thanks very much for reviewing!
Elfy: Well, you've got your Faramir and Aragorn, though you probably won't like it too much.
Disclaimer: I don't own it...it owns me.
NOTE: This chapter among other things has changed the rating of the story to PG.
~*~
Faramir took in his surroundings with growing apprehension. His captor, the one who had taken him from the King's company, was half dragging, half pushing him towards what he had figured by now to be the ship's captain. From what he had heard, he was none other than Berékangu.
The crew member stopped walking and dropped him to the floor before the pirate captain. "Hello, rat. I've brought ye here to see if ye can tell me a bit o' 'bout that Gondor o' yers."
Faramir spat at his feet. "I would no sooner betray Gondor and my King than my King would betray his people!"
Berékangu chuckled darkly, exposing filthy, blackened, chipped teeth with more than one glint of gold coming from his mouth. "Well, that's all fine an' jolly, seein' how when we're done wi' you, the King'll be betrayin' himself in an instant."
"Unlikely," Faramir continued to defy the corsair.
Berékangu just sneered. "Bring out the cat o' nine tails, lads. We'll show this upstart whelp of the north just how convincing we can be, aye?"
"Aye!" The crew shouted back at him, perverse pleasure gleaming in their faces.
Berékangu relieved Faramir of his shirt with a knife he kept in his belt and the next instant had the Prince of Ithilien tied up to a post awaiting the worst.
Berékangu took aside the large man who had hauled Faramir from his prison and said to him in a low tone, "Don't stop until he yells, or ye'll be next." The captain handed him a long, nasty looking whip with bits of metal poking out through the entwined leather.
"Aye, Cap'n." The man bowed his head and turned his ferocious gaze to Faramir who at that moment was trying not to look as frightened as he was feeling. Drawing his muscular arm back, the whip cracked as it hit Faramir's back. But the man refused to scream.
~*~
Aragorn waited anxiously in the darkness of the dank cell. He could hear signs of what was happening to Faramir, though they were faint. He waited for an incredibly long time when at last he heard Faramir's voice saying 'I would no sooner betray Gondor and my King than my King would betray his people'. His breath caught. Faramir was trying to help all along! How could he have ever not been in total accord with this man? Aragorn listened to the rest of the conversation unfold and tensed up when the cat of nine tails was mentioned. They were torturing Faramir, without a doubt, for information of Gondor. And flogging him, at that!
He waited a while until at last he heard a terrified scream. Followed by raucous laughter, the span of a few minutes passed until he heard a loud snarl and more sobs to follow. He was seething, though he knew he could to nothing to help the Steward until he was returned to the cell. He bowed his head in grief and despair. How could he have not seen it before?
~*~
Faramir screamed in protest once more as he was subjected to the white-hot flame that was burning in his back. Then things started to grow dark, and he welcomed the darkness. It called to him and he readily abandoned the world to slip out of the pain of consciousness. He was, however, only to be woken from his death-like peace by a splash of salt water upon his wounds. His muscles screamed in agony as he was once again set up right to the post, but he had not the strength to protest.
The strike of the whip against his skin was heard countless times in the minutes to follow. When it became apparent to the pirates that they would get no information from this beaten, wasted man they sent a barrage of more salt water into the wounds for good measure and Berékangu sent him back to the cell in merciless agony.
~*~
Aragorn was by his side the moment Faramir was thrown into the cell. "Faramir" he breathed in disbelief. "What happened? Why did they do this to you?"
Faramir, teetering on the dashingly confusing twilight between the conscious word and the wonderfully peaceful darkness of unconsciousness, mumbled an incoherent response to his King's questioning.
Recognizing the Prince's need, Aragorn softly said, "Sleep, Faramir. Gain your rest and I will do what I can for your wounds."
Too tired and ignorant to care, Faramir plunged into the darkness and fell into a painful, albeit welcome sleep.
Aragorn moved towards his tunic. They had searched him, but had not discovered the inside pocket where he kept Athelas should aught go wrong on the campaign. Offering the Valar a silent prayer of thanks for his good fortune, he quickly took a small burlap sack from the pocket and pulled the drawstrings, revealing a mound of Athelas just enough to slightly relieve Faramir of his pain.
Swiftly crushing and sucking upon the dried leaves, he forced them into the deepest parts of the wounds and kept but a little for future use should it needed again during their captivity. In a final effort to provide comfort to the unconscious man, he put his own silk shirt upon Faramir, so that the lash wounds would be protected from the splinters and salty, contaminated water that graced the floors of the brig.
Making sure that there was naught else he could do for him, Aragorn settled back to fall into a troubled sleep.
~*~
Please Review!