Disclaimer: All the standard ones apply!
Note- Sorry that this took me so long, and that I haven't been replying to reviewers. I've been awfully busy, but I'd like to let you know that I appreciate all your comments, and thanks for reading.
Chapter Five- Nightmares
Burning. Everything was burning. Mother and Father were there, both of them, trying to protect Boromir from the flames. I rushed towards them, feeling the heat lick at my heels, but Father pushed me away. "We can only save one," he said curtly. Then they turned and covered my older brother with their bodies, shielding him. He struggled for a minute, called out my name, and reached for me. His hand was so close, but our parents pulled him back. I could feel the heat grow closer to me, but still I strained towards him, until I grasped his fingers. They were cold as ice. Not understanding, I still tried to hold on, but then they were gone, all of them, and I was alone to face the fires for myself. They grew closer and closer and all I could do was throw myself to the floor and weep.
I sat upright, clutching my pillow to my chest. It was not warm outside- unseasonably cool, actually - but I was soaked in a bath of my own sweat. My breath was ragged and my muscles were sore, leaving me feeling like I had run from Gondor to Rohan in only a day. I shivered, perhaps from the breeze blowing in off the porch, but it felt much deeper than just a light chill.
There was a rustling of sheets, and then a soft hand fell on my shoulder. "Faramir?" inquired Eowyn's voice, "Are you well?"
I nodded, but did not turn to face her. "Yes, love, it was only a dream," I said quickly, not wanting my voice to betray my unease. "I'm sorry to have woken you."
"I am sorry I did not awaken sooner." She pulled on my shoulders and I fell limply back into her arms. She began to fuss over me, pushing my hair back and adjusting my head so it fit perfectly into the crook of her elbow. "You may not want to strangle your pillow to death, my dear," she said lightly, prying the thing from my grasp.
"Why are you making such a fuss over this, Eowyn?" I said, feeling my body relax. "It was just a nightmare."
"You have had 'just nightmares' at least once a week for the past few months! You never tell me what they're about, even when I ask! Faramir, I am begging you once more, tell me!" Her eyes were wide and sad, beseeching me to tell her the truth. I felt her hand rest gently on the bare skin of my stomach and start to stroke softly around my navel. She had found out that this simple action was enough to soothe my nerves almost immediately, and used it now to her advantage.
"You said you would not pressure me into talking about things I didn't want to discuss," I said slowly, doing my best not to anger her. Somehow, I knew this day would come, when she would try to persuade me into talking about my life before her, but I was reluctant to give in, even to my wife.
"I said that five months ago. I did not expect that it would take you so long to come to terms with this. It has been almost two years!" she said quietly, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice.
"It is not something I can easily accept." I said, surprised to feel myself getting angry. I wanted to tell her about myself, I really did, but some things were just too painful, too close, and I did not want to reveal them under duress.
"Well Faramir, there is not much to accept! Your family is dead!" she snapped, suddenly annoyed at my lack of cooperation.
"And so is most of yours, but have I badgered you about that!?" I sat up quickly, upset by the anger in my voice, but even more irked by Eowyn's belittlement of my situation. "You have told me quickly of your father, but nothing more, and that was only because I wanted to know about your fear of my injury! Don't you understand, Eowyn, that it isn't only their deaths that haunt me, but their lives as well? You know nothing of my family, and you do not understand what it was like to grow up like I did! Boromir protected me his entire life, even when it was in his best interest not to. But he felt obligated to shield me from Father, because who likes to see a weakling bullied by a tyrant?"
Eowyn was silent for a moment, from shock or in contemplation, I could not tell. She simply watched me as I struggled to compose myself, feeling like an overgrown child at my outburst. I could not bring myself to meet her eyes, or even look in her direction.
"Are you done?" she asked simply, her voice oddly flat. I had expected some compassion, or at least a simple touch, but there was no relief. I turned away and hung my head, then, to my great shame, I began to cry. If even Eowyn could not forgive me. my throat was suddenly constricted, and I took a deep, sobbing gulp of air.
It was then that I felt her hand upon my back, her lips on the back of my head. "I am sorry," I said, trying to keep my voice even. "I am sorry for being a child."
"Don't be," she whispered lightly, turning my head so I faced her. "You have every right to be. Faramir, I barely know anything about your past, but I'm sorry that I did not understand about." She paused uneasily. "I had heard that Boromir was first in your father's favors, but I never guessed."
"He was not a bad man," I managed to say, tears still streaming down my face. "He loved his first born well and trained him to be the best man Gondor has ever seen. Unfortunately, once one has a perfect son and heir, one does not need anything more."
"That isn't true. He loved you in his own way, Faramir."
"And he had such a good way of showing me that," I responded angrily. "Sending me on a suicide mission after telling me he wished I were dead, then trying to burn me alive? If that is how you would love me, Eowyn, I would have you return to Rohan now, and spare us both grief."
"He wasn't in his right mind."
"He despised me even when he was! Eowyn, please, understand. My father and I never got along, and I have very few happy memories of him. It is hard to talk about him when most of the time it ends up making me feel worthless." I paused for a moment and thought. "I could prove it to you. You wanted to hear something about me, right?"
"Yes, love," she stammered slightly, "But if you don't feel up to it."
"No, Eowyn, you must believe me. You must understand, at least in a small way, why it hurts me so to think of him. Now, listen."
*************************
"But I don't want to go, Boromir!" screamed the struggling child. With a shriek and he kick, he managed to get away from his frustrated older brother.
"Faramir, that's no way to act!" Boromir snapped angrily. You're almost six years old now, and you can't go to dinner looking like a baby!"
"I don't want to go to dinner at all," the child pouted, still keeping his distance from his sibling.
"Father will come up here and get you himself if you don't start to behave," Boromir retorted sharply. He regretted it, seeing the tiny look of fear that crept into Faramir's eyes. With resignation, the little boy stepped forward and allowed his brother to finish dressing him.
"What if I don't finish my dinner?" Faramir inquired suddenly, his eyes wide. "What if I don't use the right fork, or if I don't talk right, or if I spill something, or if I don't like it or."
"That's enough, Fari, you won't get yelled at for something like that," Boromir said, exasperated now.
"YOU wouldn't, but I already have." And the little boy was right. Boromir could have overturned the table and danced naked around the room and gotten a quick scolding, but if Faramir dropped a pea, he would be swiftly and harshly reprimanded. It had been so ever since last summer, when their mother had died. Denethor, apparently attributing his wife's weakness to Faramir's difficult birth, suddenly seemed to have turned against his youngest child, which Boromir found quite appalling.
"Come, Fari, dinner," Boromir said quietly, choosing not to reply to Faramir's remark. They quickly left the room and went down the hall, the younger tagging at the eldest's feet like a puppy.
Boromir, without knocking, pushed open the door to the dining hall. Denethor sat alone at the table, staring off into the distance, his fingers tapping distractedly on his plate. He looked towards the door and smiled as his first born entered. The boy took the seat directly to his father's right. Faramir, forgotten, slunk into his place beside his brother.
"You should knock, Boromir," Denethor began. "You must not forget your manners in court."
"Yes, Father, I'm sorry," he replied. They shared a small smile, and then began their dinners, which were already served.
"You are almost late tonight. Faramir, were you being difficult again?" Denethor said, directing his harsh question at the frightened youngster.
"Y- Yes, Father, I'm sorry," he stammered, lowering his head.
"Don't look down when I talk to you," snapped the older man suddenly. "Sit up straight, make eye contact! Your brother sets such a perfect example, and you do your best to blatantly disregard it! Next time that you are late you will receive no supper, hear?"
"Yes, Father," the boy answered, trying to do as he was told. Denethor gazed at him for a moment, wearing a deep frown, but then turned away. The rest of dinner consisted of the Steward questioning Boromir about his studies, while Faramir did his best to remain unseen.
"I'm glad to hear you're doing well, then," said Denethor finally, pushing his plate away. "You make me proud. It is amazing how much you can accomplish, and you are only eleven years old!" He smiled and gestured towards the door. "You may leave now, and have the rest of the night to yourself."
"Thank you, Father," Boromir said with a grin. He jumped out of his chair and extended a hand to help Faramir down.
"No, Boromir, he can do it himself," Denethor ordered. The older boy snatched his hand away and watched helplessly as Faramir slid slowly off the large chair. He was very slight and small for his age, and Boromir prayed that he did not fall and hurt himself. Denthor fixed his younger son with a sharp glare and frowned once more. "You are spending too much time with him, Boromir. He must learn to do things for himself, and you must not be bothered with him. He is an annoyance to you, one that cannot distract you from your studies."
"But Father, I enjoy spending time with Faramir," Boromir argued. His brother's face was suddenly very pale, but he knew better than to show any fear.
"I know, and that is what bothers me." Denethor paused for a moment and then nodded. "Starting tomorrow, Faramir will begin his studies, and you will not see each other except for supper. The rest of the day will be spent concentrating on your own learning, not the well being of your sibling."
"Father, he is only six!" Boromir cried. "He cannot sit and study all day, and he needs me to be his friend!"
"He will learn to sit, and he is using you as a crutch, not a friend. It is time the boy grew up. Do not argue with me Boromir, for someday, when you have your own children, you will see the wisdom of my judgment." Denethor sat back, looking well pleased with himself.
Boromir felt his face flush red. "No, I will never understand, because I will never have my own children! I will do whatever I wish, and I will do it with Faramir, and you will not be able to stop us!" he yelled. Then, a single tear in his eye he turned and quickly exited the room.
Denethor's jaw had dropped, leaving him with an oddly stunned expression. After a moment, he clenched his teeth and turned his attention to the young boy standing in the hall beside him. His eyes were filled with anger as he turned and said, very slowly and sharply, "You even turn my son from me! Must you take away everything I love?"
Faramir, his eyes shining with unshed tears, turned and fled the room, looking for some way to escape the terror that no six year old should find in their parent.
*****************************************
Eowyn was silent. She had not taken her eyes from mine as I related the incident, but now they were gleaming. I raised one hand and gently stroked her face. She looked so lovely sitting there in her white bedclothes. why had I ever disturbed her?
"I am sorry, Faramir," she said finally. "I didn't know that. I couldn't imagine."
"It is not a pleasant feeling, to find yourself in a hard situation such as that as a small child. But it was not the first, and it was not the last." My voice dropped low, and I added, "There will be no end."
"It is over now, Faramir, there is an end," Eowyn whispered, tangling her fingers in my hair.
"No, my love, there isn't. If there was an end, I wouldn't be here, afraid to even speak about him. I believe he will haunt me forever." That was my deepest fear, that the memory of my father would linger with me until the day I died, casting a dark shadow on every new experience. I shivered again and reached out to draw Eowyn against my chest. She was warm and comforting, and suddenly, I felt somewhat better, more hopeful.
"No, Faramir, not forever. We will be free of him one day, I promise," she whispered lightly, resting her forehead on mine. "And I always keep my promises."
As we laid back down and she snuggled up against me underneath the soft comforter, I had the reassuring feeling that she was not lying.
Note- Sorry that this took me so long, and that I haven't been replying to reviewers. I've been awfully busy, but I'd like to let you know that I appreciate all your comments, and thanks for reading.
Chapter Five- Nightmares
Burning. Everything was burning. Mother and Father were there, both of them, trying to protect Boromir from the flames. I rushed towards them, feeling the heat lick at my heels, but Father pushed me away. "We can only save one," he said curtly. Then they turned and covered my older brother with their bodies, shielding him. He struggled for a minute, called out my name, and reached for me. His hand was so close, but our parents pulled him back. I could feel the heat grow closer to me, but still I strained towards him, until I grasped his fingers. They were cold as ice. Not understanding, I still tried to hold on, but then they were gone, all of them, and I was alone to face the fires for myself. They grew closer and closer and all I could do was throw myself to the floor and weep.
I sat upright, clutching my pillow to my chest. It was not warm outside- unseasonably cool, actually - but I was soaked in a bath of my own sweat. My breath was ragged and my muscles were sore, leaving me feeling like I had run from Gondor to Rohan in only a day. I shivered, perhaps from the breeze blowing in off the porch, but it felt much deeper than just a light chill.
There was a rustling of sheets, and then a soft hand fell on my shoulder. "Faramir?" inquired Eowyn's voice, "Are you well?"
I nodded, but did not turn to face her. "Yes, love, it was only a dream," I said quickly, not wanting my voice to betray my unease. "I'm sorry to have woken you."
"I am sorry I did not awaken sooner." She pulled on my shoulders and I fell limply back into her arms. She began to fuss over me, pushing my hair back and adjusting my head so it fit perfectly into the crook of her elbow. "You may not want to strangle your pillow to death, my dear," she said lightly, prying the thing from my grasp.
"Why are you making such a fuss over this, Eowyn?" I said, feeling my body relax. "It was just a nightmare."
"You have had 'just nightmares' at least once a week for the past few months! You never tell me what they're about, even when I ask! Faramir, I am begging you once more, tell me!" Her eyes were wide and sad, beseeching me to tell her the truth. I felt her hand rest gently on the bare skin of my stomach and start to stroke softly around my navel. She had found out that this simple action was enough to soothe my nerves almost immediately, and used it now to her advantage.
"You said you would not pressure me into talking about things I didn't want to discuss," I said slowly, doing my best not to anger her. Somehow, I knew this day would come, when she would try to persuade me into talking about my life before her, but I was reluctant to give in, even to my wife.
"I said that five months ago. I did not expect that it would take you so long to come to terms with this. It has been almost two years!" she said quietly, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice.
"It is not something I can easily accept." I said, surprised to feel myself getting angry. I wanted to tell her about myself, I really did, but some things were just too painful, too close, and I did not want to reveal them under duress.
"Well Faramir, there is not much to accept! Your family is dead!" she snapped, suddenly annoyed at my lack of cooperation.
"And so is most of yours, but have I badgered you about that!?" I sat up quickly, upset by the anger in my voice, but even more irked by Eowyn's belittlement of my situation. "You have told me quickly of your father, but nothing more, and that was only because I wanted to know about your fear of my injury! Don't you understand, Eowyn, that it isn't only their deaths that haunt me, but their lives as well? You know nothing of my family, and you do not understand what it was like to grow up like I did! Boromir protected me his entire life, even when it was in his best interest not to. But he felt obligated to shield me from Father, because who likes to see a weakling bullied by a tyrant?"
Eowyn was silent for a moment, from shock or in contemplation, I could not tell. She simply watched me as I struggled to compose myself, feeling like an overgrown child at my outburst. I could not bring myself to meet her eyes, or even look in her direction.
"Are you done?" she asked simply, her voice oddly flat. I had expected some compassion, or at least a simple touch, but there was no relief. I turned away and hung my head, then, to my great shame, I began to cry. If even Eowyn could not forgive me. my throat was suddenly constricted, and I took a deep, sobbing gulp of air.
It was then that I felt her hand upon my back, her lips on the back of my head. "I am sorry," I said, trying to keep my voice even. "I am sorry for being a child."
"Don't be," she whispered lightly, turning my head so I faced her. "You have every right to be. Faramir, I barely know anything about your past, but I'm sorry that I did not understand about." She paused uneasily. "I had heard that Boromir was first in your father's favors, but I never guessed."
"He was not a bad man," I managed to say, tears still streaming down my face. "He loved his first born well and trained him to be the best man Gondor has ever seen. Unfortunately, once one has a perfect son and heir, one does not need anything more."
"That isn't true. He loved you in his own way, Faramir."
"And he had such a good way of showing me that," I responded angrily. "Sending me on a suicide mission after telling me he wished I were dead, then trying to burn me alive? If that is how you would love me, Eowyn, I would have you return to Rohan now, and spare us both grief."
"He wasn't in his right mind."
"He despised me even when he was! Eowyn, please, understand. My father and I never got along, and I have very few happy memories of him. It is hard to talk about him when most of the time it ends up making me feel worthless." I paused for a moment and thought. "I could prove it to you. You wanted to hear something about me, right?"
"Yes, love," she stammered slightly, "But if you don't feel up to it."
"No, Eowyn, you must believe me. You must understand, at least in a small way, why it hurts me so to think of him. Now, listen."
*************************
"But I don't want to go, Boromir!" screamed the struggling child. With a shriek and he kick, he managed to get away from his frustrated older brother.
"Faramir, that's no way to act!" Boromir snapped angrily. You're almost six years old now, and you can't go to dinner looking like a baby!"
"I don't want to go to dinner at all," the child pouted, still keeping his distance from his sibling.
"Father will come up here and get you himself if you don't start to behave," Boromir retorted sharply. He regretted it, seeing the tiny look of fear that crept into Faramir's eyes. With resignation, the little boy stepped forward and allowed his brother to finish dressing him.
"What if I don't finish my dinner?" Faramir inquired suddenly, his eyes wide. "What if I don't use the right fork, or if I don't talk right, or if I spill something, or if I don't like it or."
"That's enough, Fari, you won't get yelled at for something like that," Boromir said, exasperated now.
"YOU wouldn't, but I already have." And the little boy was right. Boromir could have overturned the table and danced naked around the room and gotten a quick scolding, but if Faramir dropped a pea, he would be swiftly and harshly reprimanded. It had been so ever since last summer, when their mother had died. Denethor, apparently attributing his wife's weakness to Faramir's difficult birth, suddenly seemed to have turned against his youngest child, which Boromir found quite appalling.
"Come, Fari, dinner," Boromir said quietly, choosing not to reply to Faramir's remark. They quickly left the room and went down the hall, the younger tagging at the eldest's feet like a puppy.
Boromir, without knocking, pushed open the door to the dining hall. Denethor sat alone at the table, staring off into the distance, his fingers tapping distractedly on his plate. He looked towards the door and smiled as his first born entered. The boy took the seat directly to his father's right. Faramir, forgotten, slunk into his place beside his brother.
"You should knock, Boromir," Denethor began. "You must not forget your manners in court."
"Yes, Father, I'm sorry," he replied. They shared a small smile, and then began their dinners, which were already served.
"You are almost late tonight. Faramir, were you being difficult again?" Denethor said, directing his harsh question at the frightened youngster.
"Y- Yes, Father, I'm sorry," he stammered, lowering his head.
"Don't look down when I talk to you," snapped the older man suddenly. "Sit up straight, make eye contact! Your brother sets such a perfect example, and you do your best to blatantly disregard it! Next time that you are late you will receive no supper, hear?"
"Yes, Father," the boy answered, trying to do as he was told. Denethor gazed at him for a moment, wearing a deep frown, but then turned away. The rest of dinner consisted of the Steward questioning Boromir about his studies, while Faramir did his best to remain unseen.
"I'm glad to hear you're doing well, then," said Denethor finally, pushing his plate away. "You make me proud. It is amazing how much you can accomplish, and you are only eleven years old!" He smiled and gestured towards the door. "You may leave now, and have the rest of the night to yourself."
"Thank you, Father," Boromir said with a grin. He jumped out of his chair and extended a hand to help Faramir down.
"No, Boromir, he can do it himself," Denethor ordered. The older boy snatched his hand away and watched helplessly as Faramir slid slowly off the large chair. He was very slight and small for his age, and Boromir prayed that he did not fall and hurt himself. Denthor fixed his younger son with a sharp glare and frowned once more. "You are spending too much time with him, Boromir. He must learn to do things for himself, and you must not be bothered with him. He is an annoyance to you, one that cannot distract you from your studies."
"But Father, I enjoy spending time with Faramir," Boromir argued. His brother's face was suddenly very pale, but he knew better than to show any fear.
"I know, and that is what bothers me." Denethor paused for a moment and then nodded. "Starting tomorrow, Faramir will begin his studies, and you will not see each other except for supper. The rest of the day will be spent concentrating on your own learning, not the well being of your sibling."
"Father, he is only six!" Boromir cried. "He cannot sit and study all day, and he needs me to be his friend!"
"He will learn to sit, and he is using you as a crutch, not a friend. It is time the boy grew up. Do not argue with me Boromir, for someday, when you have your own children, you will see the wisdom of my judgment." Denethor sat back, looking well pleased with himself.
Boromir felt his face flush red. "No, I will never understand, because I will never have my own children! I will do whatever I wish, and I will do it with Faramir, and you will not be able to stop us!" he yelled. Then, a single tear in his eye he turned and quickly exited the room.
Denethor's jaw had dropped, leaving him with an oddly stunned expression. After a moment, he clenched his teeth and turned his attention to the young boy standing in the hall beside him. His eyes were filled with anger as he turned and said, very slowly and sharply, "You even turn my son from me! Must you take away everything I love?"
Faramir, his eyes shining with unshed tears, turned and fled the room, looking for some way to escape the terror that no six year old should find in their parent.
*****************************************
Eowyn was silent. She had not taken her eyes from mine as I related the incident, but now they were gleaming. I raised one hand and gently stroked her face. She looked so lovely sitting there in her white bedclothes. why had I ever disturbed her?
"I am sorry, Faramir," she said finally. "I didn't know that. I couldn't imagine."
"It is not a pleasant feeling, to find yourself in a hard situation such as that as a small child. But it was not the first, and it was not the last." My voice dropped low, and I added, "There will be no end."
"It is over now, Faramir, there is an end," Eowyn whispered, tangling her fingers in my hair.
"No, my love, there isn't. If there was an end, I wouldn't be here, afraid to even speak about him. I believe he will haunt me forever." That was my deepest fear, that the memory of my father would linger with me until the day I died, casting a dark shadow on every new experience. I shivered again and reached out to draw Eowyn against my chest. She was warm and comforting, and suddenly, I felt somewhat better, more hopeful.
"No, Faramir, not forever. We will be free of him one day, I promise," she whispered lightly, resting her forehead on mine. "And I always keep my promises."
As we laid back down and she snuggled up against me underneath the soft comforter, I had the reassuring feeling that she was not lying.