I was running and running along the hallway, seized by a panic I myself wondered to be feeling. Finally, I noticed a door slightly ajar. The little room looked like a forgotten pantry, dusty and smelling of old clothes; there I hid, closing the door after me. I sat down onto the dirty floor, drawing one of my knees close to my chest and hugging it with both arms.
Why did I always do the wrong things? Why could I not be just a girl like most of them, a little weepy at times, the one who know exactly what to say or do; why would I provoke only laughter by my actions? Not that I minded making people laugh. I had got used to that long before, but somehow it seemed wrong here, in Minas Tirith, where my amusing clumsiness and blunders were rather out of place.
Whose fault was it?
My family's? They had been protecting me for as long as I can remember, and doing that in the only manner known to noblemen: by keeping from me everything they considered inappropriate. I could not really say I had been babied much; no, not that, they were men, after all, and their love for me had been largely expressed in quite a gruff way. I could compare myself to a young sapling growing in a sunlit glade and surrounded by mighty oaks protecting me from any danger that was possibly lurking in the woods nearby. All I had known was the warm sunlight…
Or was the blame to be placed on me? Was it I who chose to see only sunlight, and not care about other things? Had it been my decision to keep the glassy shell around me when most have willingly shattered theirs? I was not a child anymore; in fact, many young women of my age had families of their own… and many had lost theirs. Why then was it so difficult for me when it came to feelings? To be more exact, to showing and sharing feelings?
The situation with Faramir came upon me full force then. Why on earth could I not at least stay with him? I am sure any other woman, or even man, would have embraced him tightly, stroked his back, said some comforting words – words that I did not know… For goodness' sake, he was my cousin! I certainly had some feelings for him, not so strong as for my brothers or my father…
My brothers? My father? Did I ever show my feelings for them adequately?
I snorted. Indeed. Even in my thoughts, I could not say 'love'.
"This is a common thing, my lady," a soft voice said from the doorway. I started, lifting my gaze and suddenly staring into the blue eyes of Éomer, who was to be crowned King of Rohan.
"Your pardon, my lord?"
"I heard someone speaking and took a liberty to come in," he explained. "You seem to have an unconscious habit of involuntarily saying what you are thinking."
Yet another childish trait, I thought wearily, but was too tired to feel any shame. "What did you mean when you said… what you said?"
He shrugged. "It is said that you should not say good things aloud, for fear of scaring them away. When you say you love someone, fate might envy you… and take that person away from you. Such is the way of things, always to fear to lose them that we hold dearest."
There was a sadness in his voice that could not be concealed.
"Did you lose anyone dear to you, my lord?" I nearly groaned at my own lack of tact, but he answered quite flatly, "Yes, my lady. Both my parents died when I was a child, then I lost my cousin, who was my closest friend, mere weeks ago, and yesterday's battle took the life of my uncle. Now the only family that I have left is my sister, and she has been sorely wounded as well."
I avoided looking him in the eye, feeling shame and a strange guilt, guilt at having my family while there were people like him and Faramir, people who had suffered such unbearable losses.
What a damned fool you are, Lothíriel, I thought. Do you wish your family dead because others die?
He held out a hand to help me up. "Come, lady, it is not fitting that the Prince's daughter be sitting on the floor." His eyes were smiling now, which suddenly made me feel bitter, instead of angry again. Yet another person seeing a frightened girl before him…
But I grabbed his hand (rather ungraciously) and he helped me to my feet.
"Shall I walk you to your chamber, my lady?" he offered.
I shook my head, pulling my hand out of his grasp. "No, thank you, I can manage on my own."
He sighed. "I was trying to show my good manners, lady, not doubting your abilities. But if you wish no courtesy from me, then so be it."
"So be it," I said defiantly. "Permit me to take your leave now, my lord."
He nodded curtly.
When I had already walked quite a few paces away, he called to me again. "My lady!"
I turned round. "Yes?"
"I was just thinking… you might find it amusing to talk to my sister. She is here, in these Houses. Something tells me you would like one another."
"I would not be so sure, my lord," I sneered. "Not many people happen to take an instant liking for me."
"Not many," he agreed, "but there are some, believe me."
He turned to leave, then added, "Her name is Éowyn."
Back at Faramir's door, I put my hand on the knob, unsure if I should enter at all. The memory of my earlier behaviour made me cringe with shame. Poor, poor Faramir… I was sure he despised me by now. I did not know how I could better handle the situation, now that I realised how unfeeling and heartless I must have seemed to him.
I opened the door just a bit and suddenly heard voices inside. One of them belonged to Faramir.
"…I cannot blame her. She must have been quite shocked by what she saw, I… I was not at my best, I think."
Another voice answered, and there was annoyance in it, "She could not expect anything different from a person who had just received such dreadful news, could she? She was not supposed to leave you, and that was what she promised me. If she had had the courage to tell you the tidings, she should have been here for you."
I recognised the voice as the Lord Aragorn's. Then Faramir spoke again, rather pleadingly, "But she is so young, and all this is something totally alien for her. Besides, I last saw her years ago, and cannot say we ever have been very close. I am simply a wounded man to her, in most respects a stranger, and quite a bit older, for that matter. I cannot demand any sisterly feelings from her…"
"That might well be true," Aragorn said, "but it is not her feelings for you that bother me. The girl is a healer, has chosen to be such, and that means certain responsibilities, and those concern you and other people who lie here in need of help, family to her or not. If she feels unsuited for the task, then it would be best for her to leave this place. I am sure there is plenty of work to do in the City."
I took a careful step back from the door. Suddenly, all the strength was drained from my body, and I had to steady myself against the wall. I stood there, eyes closed, my hands gripping the stones, my fingernails scratching at them – something I normally hated, but who cared? I wanted to disappear, completely and for good, and I wanted everyone just forget about me. Aragorn's words were harsh, but just, and they had not hurt me, for they were something I rather expected to hear, from him or my father or one of the healers. What was harder to bear was what Faramir had just said. His indulgence hit me truly hard. Of course, knowing my cousin, one would not expect any reproach from him, but I was ready to at least some degree of coldness, of hurt. Instead, he showed such magnanimity and generosity that I felt absolute dirt.
A hand on my arm brought me back to reality.
"My lady Lothíriel, you will catch cold if you stay pressed to that wall for too long," a voice said.
I opened my eyes and was face to face (well, almost, for he was much taller) with Aragorn.
He looked at me thoughtfully, then asked, "Did you hear us talking?"
"Yes," I answered simply.
He nodded. "Then you know my counsel to you. Lady, if attending to the needs of the sick proves to be too great a burden to you…"
"No, no," I interrupted hastily, "you do not understand, my lord. My father allowed me to accompany him here on condition that I do something… of use."
"Surely your father would consent to your wish to change the duty to something you are more inclined to do?"
I shook my head in panic. "No, my lord, I beg you not to tell my father of this… incident. I promise to be more considerate in the future. I realise that my earlier conduct cannot be justified; all I can say is that I will try to prove everyone that I am worth… something."
Suddenly, his eyes softened, became sadder.
"Prove… Please do not do that, child. Do not try to punish yourself. I have seen a lot in this life, and I know that the punishment people bring on themselves on their own accord is usually too hard."
"But do you not see it?" I cried, tears finally springing to my eyes. "Everyone is pointing out to me that I behave like a child, and still they would not let me learn how to be a grown-up!"
There was much more I wanted to say, but I stopped there. What was the use of talking to a complete stranger about things that even my family failed to see?
He gave me a long and thoughtful look.
"All right, my lady," he said. "Stay here, if you will. But you must promise something to me."
I nodded eagerly. At that moment, I would have agreed to collect and bury all the Orc corpses that still lay on the Pelennor Fields.
He smiled and said, "Your most important charge here will be the Steward of Gondor. I am certain you will find it only fair, after you deserted him in his hour of need." The words were softened with a smile. I had enough courage to smile back.
"You do care about him, do you not?" I asked.
"Yes," was the answer. "I would not like to lose him. Your cousin seems to be a remarkable man."
"He is," I agreed. "It runs in the family, you know."
He laughed. "I like you much better in this mood, my lady."
"I promise I shall look after him well, my lord," I said. "He will await you here, alive and well, when you come to claim the throne."
His face became grave. "You cannot promise this, my lady."
"Yes, I can," I said stubbornly. "I am."
Faramir turned his head at the sound of the door opening, then smiled to see me. "Thíri!"
I crossed over to the bed and kissed him on the cheek.
"Forgive me for being such a fool, cousin," I said. "I just…"
He waved all my explanations aside. "No, Thíri, I understand. We all are under an enormous strain these days, and you more than others. I do not blame you for losing control. I had done the same, remember?"
His eyes were still red from weeping. I stroked his arm awkwardly and shyly, and they filled with tears again. He turned his head away from me and was silent for a while.
When he finally spoke, his voice was very quiet. "How it hurts, Thíri… You know, when I was about fifteen, I fell off a horse and grazed the skin all over my side… my tunic slipped out of my breeches… and at that time I thought that was the most terrible pain one could feel… Stupid, is it not? Now… now it feels as if the graze were on my heart, and I know it will never heal completely."
I did not know what to say. His words almost brought the sensation onto my own body, a thing very new and unexpected, so I was rather studying my reaction to it than thinking of him. I looked down onto my right hand, where was a small ugly-looking scar. I held my hand to him.
"This happened when I was trying to kill a fly on the window pane," I said. "I broke the pane and it cut my hand. Rather badly. There was a whole pool of blood. Rothos said it was a punishment for an attempted murder of an innocent creature."
He stared at me, puzzled. I sat down on the floor and laid my head next to his, looking him in the eye.
"It was very painful, Faramir. I had it bandaged for more than a week, and even when the bandage came off, it was very tender to the touch. But now…it is only a scar."
The grief in his tear-filled eyes began to give way.
"A scar, Faramir," I said, lowering my voice to a mere whisper. "It will always be there, and my hand will never look the same, and it will always remind me of the day I got the wound, but…" I shifted my head very close to his and finished, "but it does not hurt any more."
The tears spilled over; he pulled me closer, so that our brows were touching.
"Thank you…" I heard, and then he wept again, bitterly, convulsively, but this time it did not alarm me. I stayed there, not trying to return the embrace, not saying a single word of consolation, for I still knew none… and yet somehow I felt none were needed.
TBC
She is improving, isn't she? Pleeeease review, I know you want to:)