A/Ns:
Redone: I see your point, but it is basically a story about the characters we already know so well, and is moving to a conclusion involving those characters - to elaborate on the life of Flynn and his family would detract from that, but I must admit, I've become quite fond of him.
Lhaewin: I hope this hasn't given you a complete nervous breakdown. :)
Chapter 4 - Denethor (2) (Dedicated to Sarah (Monkey's Harp) who made me get on with this!)
It takes some while for Flynn to compose himself and to continue listening to the tape. His feeling that his brother from another age was with him had been overpowering, and I thought at one point he was going to hyper-ventilate. He shifts from the comfort of the leather arm-chair to the floor, as though he does not want to feel in any way confined.
"I don't feel it now," he says eventually, and he runs his hands nervously through his dark hair, against which his face looks colourless. "But he was here. I know it was Boromir - it was as though I was enveloped in a protective surround of sheer love - like he was holding me. I can't explain it."
Suddenly, his expression becomes one of sadness. "I want it to have been him - but if it was, does that mean that he hasn't been reborn - reincarnated?"
"I don't know," I tell him honestly. "I can only theorise. Maybe at this moment, his soul is drifting - but do you know of astral projection?"
He nods.
"Then you know that there are countless recorded cases of souls, spirits whatever, leaving their earthly bodies temporarily, and travelling across the astral plain. It may be that Boromir's spirit can do this, and has been drawn to you, empowered by the great love you shared."
"Then he'll find me - or he has found me?"
"It's possible," I reply. "It's also possible that only his soul is aware of you - that in the confines of human flesh, he has no conscious memory of you, or indeed of himself - but of course, that is only a theory."
He looks disappointed, and I become aware that I have become emotionally involved with this boy and am no longer able to remain dispassionate. Officially he is no longer my client, and if he asks for any advice now, I will give it as a friend. Though barely old enough to be his father, my feelings are both paternal and fraternal. He has an air of vulnerability, although at the same time I detect an inner strength, which is probably the core of his being. As he looks at me with large cerulean eyes, sparkling beneath long dark eyelashes, I feel an urge to protect him. Momentarily I even wonder if the spirit of his - of Faramir's - older and protective brother had not only been in the room, but remains so, within my body, but it is a thought that I almost instantly dismiss, for apart from it being extremely unlikely, I believe that to be possessed by the spirit of another would feel rather more dramatic, and with more effect, than just feeling an affection and a desire to protect.
"Shall we continue?" I ask, and the powerful voice of Denethor, Steward of Gondor, once more pervades the room.
"My son is dead. I blame myself - he did not wish to go to Imladris, but Gondor needed - I needed - the weapon of the enemy. Now it is likely to be our doom - sent into Mordor itself in the hands of a witless halfling, by my equally witless son. He may as well have given it to a child. Boromir died trying to bring the Ring to Gondor. Faramir had it in his grasp, but let it go. He betrayed me - he betrayed his brother."
I look at Flynn, but he remains surprisingly impassive, his concentration focused on the voice of "his father".
"At this moment, I despise my son. I despise his weakness, his disregard for my wishes. And most of all I despise the way he looks as always to Mithrandir for guidance. I tell him to retake Osgiliath. In my heart I know it is futile and that I will be sending him to his death, but if I must endure the loss of Boromir, I can certainly endure the loss of Faramir.
He asks me if I wish that he had died instead of his brother, and I answerthat I indeed wish that, but it iswithout thought - it is not my heart speaking, but my desire to hurt him. My wish is that Faramir had gone to Imladris as he had requested, nothing more - it is not that I wish him dead, but more that I wish Boromir alive. I do not tell him this, but I send him away with no kind word, and no farewell, no acknowledgement that he still tries only to do my will, to earn some recognition in my eyes. He wants at the least some affection and respect, but it is not until he returns more dead than alive that my heart and my eyes are opened to the love I feel for him.
The halfling Peregrin tries to tell me that he lives, but I do not heed him.......I have seen the hordes of Mordor at the gates. I do not wish for my son to be brought back from death to face such evil, when only torment and pain would be his fate. I have done little for him, but I can spare him that.......we will die together with some honour, not degraded and mutilated by a cruel enemy."
Flynn looks at me and despite the horror of what he is hearing, he looks almost exhilarated.
"He loved Faramir - he loved.....me."
I pause the tape, for I can guess what is coming. "Do you want to hear the rest - are you prepared for it?"
He nods. "I have no problem with it...it can't be worse than the first time."
"Faramir is on the pyre - he is drenched in oil......I look at him, and regret my harsh treatment of him. He looks like a child, a helpless little boy, and I know I have failed him - as I have failed Finduilas and Boromir, for they looked to me to take care of him. I spent my life trying to be worthy of Gondor - a good son, a good Steward, but I was a poor husband, and an even poorer father, especially to my youngest. Always I found fault, and would demean and humiliate him. In my heart I knew that Faramir would be a good soldier, if not a natural one, for heis not given to impetuousity, but is blessed with good instinct and a rational, logical mind. I was no better than a bully to my gentle son, who deserved it not, and never failed to show me respect and loyalty."
"Do you have any answers?" asks the therapist. "Do you know why you rejected your son?"
"I do now," Denethor answered, "For much becomes clear in those few moments. I had so much resentment in my heart - I resented his relationships with Boromir, with Mithrandir, even with his mother. They all adored him and this reminded me of all the inadequacies I felt as a child and as a youth. I resented his wisdom. I resented that his blood was maybe even stronger and purer than my own - than Boromir's." There was a long pause, before Denethor added in a voice choked with emotion, "I resented my son because he was everything I wanted to be........"
At this, Flynn finally breaks down, and I switch off the tape. He is still sitting on the floor, legs drawn up, his arms wrapped around them, and his head on his knees. Tentatively I place an arm on the gently convulsing shoulders. Although this kind of scene is all too familiar to me, I am no longer detached from this boy's situation and I feel a lump forming in my throat at his distress.
After a minute or so, he raises his head. His cheeks are still wet with tears, and he seems uncomfortable and embarrassed. "Sorry," he says softly. "It got a bit much there - hearing him crack like that. He was never emotional."
My stomach lurches as I realise the implications of his words.
"Flynn - do you realise what you're saying?" I ask, and he looks at me, confused.
"You talk as though you remember him - but you aren't in regression." I shake my head in disbelief.
"I do remember," he replies. "Not everything - some of it is still like the sensation of having watched it on TV, as it was before, but some things are very real. Things have been getting clearer all the time since my last regression."
He obviously recognises my concern, and smiles as if to reassure me. "I'm OK - I know who I am. I'm still Flynn....Faramir is just a memory. An important one, but a memory nonetheless."
He looks towards the cassette recorder. "Can we go on? I think it's almost over."
"I command my men to set a fire," said Denethor. "I have no fear - just a longing for peace, and to be reunited with my wife, and my two boys. The flames are around me, and around my son - my beautiful son. And then Mithrandir is there - interfering yet again. The halfling is there also, and there is much confusion. I can feel the heat of the flames, and pain, increasing pain with every second - and between them Mithrandir and Peregrin remove Faramir from the pyre, and beat the flames from his body.......and then I see his eyes open, and he looks to me. In that moment before death takes me, my only wish is to hold him, and to make amends, but my mind is failing now for I can tolerate the pain no longer, and then all is black, and there is pain no more."
Flynn gives a deep sigh, and looks thoughtful.
"I have to be Faramir again," he says finally.
"You want another regression?" I ask.
"No," he replies, "I don't need to be regressed - I have to meet this guy, and I have to talk to him as his son. It's the only way to achieve closure - for all of us - for Faramir, for Denethor - and for myself."
TBC