The late afternoon sky streamed in shades of purple and orange. Though the Steward of Gondor had a perfect view from his bench, he paid no heed to the glorious parade into evening. Nor did he hear Pippin's approach.
From a secluded corner along the Citadel wall, Aragorn watched the valiant Knight coax a goblet of watered wine into the Steward's hand. Throughout the entire Council meeting the hobbit had hovered near Faramir's elbow, always at the ready, trying to anticipate his Steward's every need. The King hoped Pippin's offering would be accepted. Faramir's weary expression certainly warranted the refreshment and at the very least, one friend's concern.
Ever since the day these two met, it was obvious to all, that Faramir and Pippin felt an immediate kinship. Perhaps love for Boromir or witnessing so much tragedy together played a role in their becoming fast and devoted friends. For whatever reason, Faramir and Pippin loved and trusted one another deeply. So much so, in fact, that each felt it his duty, nay his right, to protect and care for the other.
The harvest report that Faramir presented to the Council was thorough and well written. As is often the case, more questions were posed rather than answered, prompting the Council to demand even more information. With an accommodating smile and bow, Faramir agreed to provide yet another report. The young man's reticent demeanor and Pippin's thin-lipped glare at the Council members were clues to Aragorn that something was amiss.
Pippin was surreptitiously trying to reach for the document held tightly in his Steward's hand, hoping to replace it with the goblet. The King doubted that Faramir even cared that the report was ruthlessly being crushed. From the look on the his face, it was apparent the young man would rather do more than just wring the life out of the helpless paper...burn it, shred it, make it sail over the battlement...it mattered not.
"My lord, please, the Council meeting is over and the members are gone. Take this wine and give me that report. I shall gladly return it to your office," Pippin cajoled.
"My thanks for your attentions, Peregrine, but I am well. You, on the other hand, have done too much today." Faramir stayed his friend's protest with a silencing hand. "You are not long out of a sickbed yourself and your limp is much more pronounced than earlier. Come now, take your ease here by me."
After dropping the report on the bench, Faramir leaned over and opened his arms. Pippin, in turn, placed the goblet on the papers and gladly climbed into the warm embrace. So reminiscent of Boromir's, yet so very uniquely Faramir's. For a moment they shared a comforting hug, then Pippin pulled back, sage green eyes searching Faramir's face.
"Fara, do not deny it, you have not been well." This time, Pippin stayed the young man's protest with a smaller, silencing hand. "I know too, Eowyn's absence has taken its toll."
"True Pip, I do miss her greatly. Yet my mind and heart knows our time apart is only for a short while. No, this is something else. 'Ill' is not perhaps the right term. Nor does 'unhappy' explain my state of mind." Faramir shrugged and chuckled, "I do not know exactly how to describe my mood."
Pip nodded in understanding and slipped from the Man's arms in order to nestle close into his side. Faramir automatically wrapped a strong arm around his smaller companion. Aragorn would have found the scene charming had he not seen their matched forlorn expressions.
"Disappointed," came Pippin's matter of fact reply.
"Pardon?"
"Disappointed," Pippin looked down at his neatly clasped hands before he continued.
"You thought things would turn out a certain way, but this was not what you predicted. Oh...do not mistake me, some of what you envisioned has come true. Just...well...not exactly the way you dreamed."
As Pippin spoke, Faramir turned a steely gray gaze to the hobbit. It was exactly how he felt.
"Feeling this way somehow seems ungrateful and you can not abide the thought that your sentiments might insult loved ones who sacrificed so much. So, you simply do not speak of it."
Pippin's lilting voice faded away. Faramir joined his friend in staring off to another place and time. Finally, the young man tucked a finger under the hobbit's chin, guiding the melancholy face to look up into his own. Faramir's gentle smile put Pippin at ease.
"Ah Pip, you know me better than myself it seems. Yes, that is the emotion exactly...and...I do not believe I am alone in feeling so. Can you forgive me for not taking notice of your own burdens sooner?"
Alarmed that he had worried Faramir, Pip spoke in a panic.
"Ach! No! There is nothing to forgive. I am being selfish and thoughtless..."
The young man slipped off the bench to crouch before the hobbit. Faramir's large hands began to soothe along Pippin's small arms.
"Enough, Pip...nay, you are one of the most generous and giving beings I know. Tis true, things did not turn out as we hoped or dreamed," Faramir swallowed hard and continued with difficulty, "and to our horror, so many unspeakable nightmares came to pass as well."
The last remark gave Pip pause. The hobbit placed a reassuring hand on Faramir's cheek, letting his friend know, that he too, was well versed in those very nightmares.
"These sorrows should have a place in our hearts. But, we foolishly dwell too much on what was not achieved or on what was altogether lost. And yet our ultimate folly, my friend, is not to also make a place for all the unforeseen joys we have gained.
Pip raised shimmering eyes to Faramir. The unsettled hobbit could not help but take a small breath of astonishment. Though the young man still appeared physically exhausted, his countenance radiated an inner jubilation and an abiding affection.
When Pip returned a brilliant smile and exuded a happy glow, Faramir knew that the meaning he attempted to convey was understood. Although, it was always wise to make sure with this particular hobbit.
"Peregrine Took, to have both you and Boromir in my heart," Faramir's gentle voice began with a quaver, "well...I am truly blessed by the Valar to count you as friend and brother. You shall always be cherished and celebrated here..."
Faramir touched his palm to his own breast before continuing.
"...and I hope I am held with some esteem there."
As he spoke, Faramir touched his palm to Pippin's chest.
The small being scrabbled off the bench and launched himself at the young man. After an initial 'ooomph' the Steward caught hold of his Knight. Both clutched together tightly, imprinting the preciousness of each to the other.
"Oh my! Yes! Indeed! I do...you know...never doubt it, Faramir...I do hold you and Boromir very dear...more than my own life. You especially are beloved to me as no other. In your presence, I am an equal. In your eyes, I have no failings or shortcomings. As Boromir did, you respect me. Thank you, Fara...thank you for that, my brother."
Faramir frowned at Pip's choice of words. After all, the implication was easy enough to understand for one who often had similar thoughts.
"Pip..."
But the hobbit pleaded, "Ah...no...Faramir...do not take notice. Truly, all is well."
Faramir relaxed his concerned look, knowing all was not as well as this hobbit led to believe. With a small nod he acquiesced and did not pursue the subject any further...for now at least. Pip was noticeably relieved and slyly changed the subject.
"Let us take a moment longer for ourselves, Fara. You know...we have not read together for many weeks now. Does not the quiet peace of the Library sound tempting?"
"So...it was you hiding in the shadows last night. You should have made yourself known. It is unseemly for Knights of the Citadel Guard to stalk their Steward."
"I was not stalking you, Sir. I was merely unable to sleep and thought a walk would tire me. How was I to know that you would be gliding through the halls of Minas Tirith at so late an hour like some apparition gone a haunting?"
Faramir released Pippin and with a sigh he rose to sit on the bench again and looked out into the gathering darkness. Pippin reached for the wine and parchments. When he held the goblet up to Faramir, the young man took it gratefully. After indulging in a long and quenching drink he passed the goblet back to Pip, encouraging him to share. The hobbit grinned and took an equally satisfying swallow before smacking his lips in pleasure. Faramir then took the documents back from Pippin and stood.
"I am afraid that will have to hold us over until I am done with this infernal report."
Pippin tried to mask his disappointment at failing to get his friend to rest and relax, but Faramir also knew him well.
"Soon...Pip, I promise as soon as this is complete we shall share another goblet in front of the Library's great fireplace. In the meantime, my friend, sit here a moment longer and enjoy this lovely night for both of us."
Pippin and Faramir gazed upon each other one last time before the Steward turned and went back to his work. Pippin watched the man long after he had disappeared back in to the gloom of the building. Settling back onto the bench, the hobbit absently turned the goblet in his small hands while listening to the night calls.
"Was there something you wished, Sire?"
Pip continued to play with the goblet. Though he should have, for he was addressing the King after all, the hobbit did not stand or turn as he queried.
Surprised that Pippin knew he was there; Aragorn stepped out from his hiding place, approached the bench and quietly sat next to the contemplative hobbit. When Pippin would not stop twirling the cup, the King gently reached for it. Just as his small friend finally looked up, Aragorn smirked and drank down the last of the cool wine.
"Hmmmmm...as a matter of fact, Sir Peregrine, it appears that there are a great many matters to be discussed. Shall we start with why my Steward and Knight were unable to sleep last night? Maybe we should first address the strange behavior both of you exhibited at the Council meeting today. Will you not tell me what burdens and haunts both of you so? Or perhaps, we may touch upon these unmerited beliefs that you and Faramir are of little consequence?"
Pip interjected before Strider could continue, "I think the Lady murdered her Lord for the sake of her son, who is likely the cleric's child." Mouth agape and blinking in confusion, Aragorn could only guess as to how to respond to such a nonsequitur.
"I believe we shall need a great deal more wine, ere you finish explaining, Knight of the Citadel. From the beginning, Pip."
Note: This chapter is dedicated to Christine G. Thank you, my friend. Pip's nonsequitur eludes to a Brother Cadfael mystery I've been trying to finish for quite some time...much like this fic.
