Faramir woke to the now familiar pain. He tried to ignore it as he slowly sat up and reached for the food he knew Éomer had left for him. The King of Rohan was asleep, for which Faramir was glad. Éomer would try to make him eat more than he was currently eating and the Steward did not think he could take it. His body rebelled against the food and water, but still he ate to keep up his strength.
'Strength. I barely have any left. Estel, please come soon or I will not be here when you do.' Éomer shuffled in his sleep and Faramir smiled. He had dreamt that the King was for some reason hugging his cousin Lothiriel. 'They would make a good couple. I should talk with Éowyn about that, I bet she would enjoy playing match-maker.' Faramir sighed as he thought of his wife. 'Hopefully she is safe in Gondor. I would not put it past her to propose an outrageous idea to Aragorn, like sneaking into Edoras to try and save us. Luckily Estel would not be so foolish as to approve of such a thing. He knows I would hurt him if he did.'
Éomer woke up as Pelatarn stormed into the cell. Faramir was already awake which annoyed the evil man, for minds were easier to break if caught off guard. "Good morning, little Steward." The soldiers took their regular positions and Éomer had to steel himself against them. It had been a shock when he had first realized that the soldiers were actually the rotten corpses of the men he had fought beside at Helm's Deep.
Pelatarn grinned as he pulled Faramir into the depths of his mind.
((Denethor smacked him across the face. "Idiot boy, do not talk back to me! In fact, do not talk to me at all, I have no patience with you." The Steward stormed off, but not before he could hear him mutter, "Worthless, he is worthless."))
You are worthless, little Steward.
I am not.
You are. You learned that again, did you not? To bad your Uncle stopped him, or your father could have ended your miserable life before you ruined everyone else's.
Faramir's eyes widened. Pelatarn spoke of the last time his father had hit him, the worst time, the time he had had nightmares about for years. 'No, please!'
Unfortunately, Pelatarn discerned his thoughts and fears. You do not wish to remember that, do you? He grinned evilly. In fact, you try to hide it from everyone, not just me. Well, perhaps the little King here would like to see it, he did say he wanted to hear about your childhood.
To Faramir's horror, the soldiers dragged Éomer forward. 'No! Don't make him go through that, don't make him see!' Even though he had made peace with his past, this memory still triggered a fear in him and he did not want Éomer to have to go through what he did. Pelatarn just sneered.
Éomer didn't know what was going on. The soldiers just all of a sudden pulled him forward, forcing him to kneel next to Faramir. He tried not to shiver as Pelatarn's crimson eyes turned to him. "How would you like to see what the little Steward does? What he hides?"
"Leave us alone, snake." One of the soldiers rammed the mace into his stomach.
"That was not wise." Pelatarn place a hand on Éomer's head, keeping the other on Faramir's. "Shall we?"
((All at once, Éomer found himself in Minas Tirith, in the Steward's study. Before him, though, was the towering figure of Denethor son of Ecthelion and a small boy who Éomer realized was Faramir.))
"Hmmm. Perhaps you should see closer."
((Éomer was pulled forward, there was a flash of darkness, then to his amazement and horror the King realized that he was looking out though Faramir's eyes. Suddenly the old Steward looked larger and more frightening, a menacing look on his face.
Denethor started yelling at Faramir. "You little disobedient child, how dare you go against my orders! I explicitly told you that you were not to read until I said you could. And yet I find a book hidden underneath your pillow!"
Éomer was startled. 'Why is he speaking so? So what if Faramir read a book?'
"Father I swear, I haven't read anything except for my studies! That is the book I plan to give Boromir for his birthday, I haven't..." a slap kept him from continuing.
The King of Rohan felt the slap as well, though he was too stunned at the fact that Denethor had hit his son to notice.
"Do not lie to me child! Only cowards lie! How could the Valar have cursed me with such a son!" Denethor was now waving his dagger at him and Éomer felt a growing apprehension though he did not know why. Then he realized that the apprehension was not his own, but Faramir's. Not the boy he was seeing through, but the man who was being forced to relive his worst nightmare.
Faramir's calm broke. "Father, please! Why do you not love me? I try so hard and yet nothing I do pleases you! Why do you hate me so? You have never showed me the least bit of love! Mother would be ashamed of you!"
The hurt in the boy's voice combined with the fact that he could feel Faramir's emotion, nearly broke Éomer's heart. What happened next, though, was even worse.
"Love you? Hah! You are weak!" the Steward threw Faramir hard against the wall, breaking his arm. "You are worthless!" The dagger slashed against the boy's cheek. "You do not deserve to be loved!" Both Faramir and Éomer watched in horror as the dagger rose above Denethor's head, ready to end Faramir's life. Éomer could feel the hopelessness and grief that filled the boy's heart, though he himself felt only fright and a growing abhorrence for Denethor.))
Their minds snapped back as the memory ended. Pelatarn grinned triumphantly. "How does it feel, little Steward, to know that your father wanted you dead? That you do not deserve love?"
Faramir stared stubbornly at Pelatarn. "You will not break me. Not even that memory will break me."
Narrowing his eyes, Pelatarn considered letting his men just kill Faramir and get it over with. 'No, that would be admitting failure, and I never fail.' He left the cell without even punishing Faramir for speaking out.
Faramir leaned back, pressing his torn back against the cold stone wall. The pain cleared his mind and he tried to not think about what he had seen. Instead, he tried to focus on his years in Rivendell, the one time he had felt safe and loved. He thought of Lord Elrond, his foster father, and smiled sadly. 'I wish you were here, Ada. I wish you could tell me what to do.'
Closing his eyes, Faramir could almost hear Elrond's voice. Tir, the shadow is not stronger than you, you can beat it. Fight it.
'I will try, Ada.'
To Éomer's dismay, he could not stop his hands from shaking. He didn't know if it was a side-effect from the black magic, or if it was shock from what he had seen. Éomer looked at his brother-by-law who had his eyes closed. "Faramir, did that... was that real?"
Faramir opened his eyes and Éomer could see the sadness in them. "It was all too real, Éomer."
"What happened?"
Such a simple question, with a long, horrible answer. "He was drunk and he hated me. Had Uncle Imrahil not stopped him... "
He let Éomer imagine the rest. "And afterwards?"
Faramir closed his eyes again, suddenly exhausted. "Imrahil took me to Dol Amroth. I lived there a year before circumstances made it impossible. Then Uncle took me to Rivendell where I lived the next seven years under the protection of Lord Elrond."
"King Aragorn's foster father?"
"And mine. I met Aragorn when I was thirteen. I returned to Minas Tirith three years later."
Éomer counted the years in his head. "That means you were…"
"I was eight-years-old."
The King of Rohan couldn't speak for a moment. 'Eight? Only eight-years old and his father tried to kill him!' "I...I am sorry."
Faramir nodded his head, though more from tiredness than anything else. "I do not wish to talk about it anymore, Éomer. I am too... tired right...now." Lying down on the hard floor, Faramir fell asleep, tired from the pain and the memories.
Éomer could not have slept if he wanted to. He sat for nearly an hour, his mind whirling, trying to make sense of everything. The now familiar noise echoed from the drain and Éomer turned his head as Lothiriel crawled out. As she came up to him, his anger flared. "What does 'Ada' mean, Lothiriel?" he demanded.
Lothiriel was taken aback by the harshness in his voice. "I told you to... "
He didn't give her a chance to finish. "Does it mean 'stop hurting me'? Does it mean 'help me, my father is trying to kill me'?"
Lothiriel covered her mouth with her hand. "You know?"
Éomer's eyes flashed. "Yes, I know. I saw! I saw the former Steward of Gondor try to murder his son, his own child! You knew, did you not?"
"Yes, I knew. I knew, but it was not my place to say anything."
The look in her eyes calmed Éomer's temper. "Forgive me, Lothiriel. I am not angry at you." He glanced over at Faramir who was still fast asleep. "Who else knows?"
"Éowyn does, of course, and my parents. King Aragorn knows, as does Queen Arwen. Then there is the healer who warned my father and her husband who was a captain in my father's army." She paused. "Did Faramir tell you about... "
"Rivendell? Yes, he did."
"Then you have probably guessed that Lord Elrond knows, as do his sons Elladan and Elrohir, and a few trusted elves."
Éomer sighed. "Did everyone know except me?"
Lothiriel touched his arm lightly. "If Faramir had had it his way, no one would have known. From what he has said, Boromir did not even know until he journeyed to Rivendell during the War." Both were silent for a moment before Lothiriel spoke again. "The lock picks are almost ready. We will get you out soon."
Éomer looked into her eyes and Lothiriel shivered at his intense look. "Please hurry. I fear what more of this will do to him."
A lump formed in her throat and she nodded before standing up to leave. "I will not let you down. The next time we meet it will be to free you. Both of you." Lothiriel headed for the drain, but paused as another thought came to her. She turned to Éomer. "Ada is what Faramir calls Lord Elrond. It means father." With that, she disappeared, leaving the King of Rohan alone with his thoughts.
