Chapter 7

All I could think of was how different this sensation was from any other kiss I had had before. My father, when I was in the mood and would let him put his hand on the back of my head and press his lips to my brow; my brothers, on very rare occasions like my birthday – at all other times the signs of their affection would be friendly slaps on a shoulder, as if I had been another boy; a pageboy who was the object of my first infatuation, and we would sneak away into a quiet corner and practice wet kisses that left me embarrassed and slightly disgusted, but thoroughly convinced we were doing 'the right thing'.

There was nothing like disgust this time; in fact, I rather enjoyed the kiss. And realized I still had to practice for years and years. My eyes were wide open, and I could discern his expression, which made me want to laugh, so concentrated he looked. And…and there was something else, a feeling I could not pinpoint just then, like a longing for…what?

Finally, he withdrew, looking into my eyes intently, searching my face for something… I did not know what he saw there, but then, suddenly, he smiled and said, sounding quite casual to me, "I hope this will keep your spirits high, lady. Sorrow does not befit you."

The dark hallway span round and round, and I had to lean against him to keep my foothold. My mouth went dry; there was some bitter taste in it. I gasped a few times like fish out of water. During the kiss, all was so wonderfully in place, so natural and easy; now it was as if someone had given me a push in the knees from behind.

So…all this to 'keep my spirits high'. How truly clever. All of a sudden, I knew what it was I longed for. Lothíriel, you silly, silly girl, you expected any tenderness, you wanted sweet words of love whispered in your ear… no, better shouted… and all you got was someone playing a very very witty prank, just to make you – and himself – feel a little better.

I withdrew from his embrace, taking a couple of moments to regain my composure. He will not see these thoughts in my face.

"You are right, my lord. Sorrow befits no one. I thank you for taking such efforts to lighten my heart. I hope yours is a little unburdened now, too."

He looked puzzled, a bit hurt, perhaps. But then, his mouth curved in a gentle smile.

"Will you give me any token of your favour, so that I might remember this moment in darker hours?" His tone was slightly teasing.

I slowly shook my head. I was not the one to play these games.

"No, my lord." I said firmly. "True favour feels no need of tokens… and if there is none of it, even more so."

The hurt was plain in his eyes now, and I felt my blood start to boil in my veins. What did he expect, a playful exchange? The time for that was obviously wrong.

"I must beg you to excuse me now, my lord," I concluded. "There are others who might need my presence."

We bowed to each other and parted.

As I was going back to Faramir's room, I seemed to stumble on every single crack in the stone floor. At times, I would find out that I walked into a wall and wonder what on earth was wrong with me. When I finally tripped over a stone that stuck out of the floor and fell on my hands and knees, I felt a little sobered by the pain from the contact.

"This will not do, Lothíriel," I murmured to myself, struggling back to my feet. "Pull yourself together."

All I wanted was to get back to Faramir. Faramir would know what to do. Faramir would first listen to me, that he can do like no other man, and then either explain the whole matter to me, or smile and wave it aside. So I straightened my back and entered the room.

To my great dismay, there was another visitor. This time, it was Mithrandir. They talked very quietly, sitting at the window, and the wizard was smoking his pipe and producing delicate white rings. They floated off into the night air, first slowly dissolving into the tiniest wisps, and then disappearing completely. Puff… another one left its carved home and set off on the perilous journey towards the East.

"You do remember my cousin Lothíriel, Mithrandir," Faramir said with a smile. "She is Prince Imrahil's daughter and my most valued companion."

Mithrandir smiled at me, too. "I do remember this young lady, Faramir, though I have not seen her for quite a long while. I must say she is a most attractive Princess. And much cleaner then she was when I last saw her."

I smiled feebly in return, barely able to acknowledge the compliment or the jest.

"But, Thíri, I think you wanted something?" Faramir now sounded anxious. "You do not look very good."

I had entered the room with a firm resolve to tell him everything, but now there was Mithrandir in there, it all faded, much like the smoke rings he made. So, I resorted to the most ancient excuse of all.

"I have a terrible headache, cousin," I said. "I fear I shall not be able to keep you company tonight. Will you manage on you own?"

"But of course, Thíri, dear. Go and try to have some sleep. You have had quite a day, have you not?"

His voice and eyes were so full of compassion that for a moment I wanted to run to him and feel his arms on me once again… but I did not.

"Yes, Faramir," I nodded. "You are quite right. A good night to you then, cousin. My lord Mithrandir."

I inclined my head slightly and left.

Despite all the ordeals of the previous night, I fell asleep the moment my head touched the pillow and slept until someone banged on the door and called me to my duties. I was told that the army had already ridden forth. I was strangely glad that I had been spared the sight of them departing across the Pelennor. Many of the healers and nursemaids had been to cast one last look upon the host from the walls. They came back very quiet, many trying to hide their tears, but without much success. Miri, the woman who had lost her entire family, sat with her head buried in the folds of her white apron, which she pressed to her face with both hands. I was washing the linen next to her.

"Lothíriel…" she called to me a while later, "do you have any cold water there?"

"Yes," I answered, pouring some into a basin and handing it to her.

She splashed it over her swollen red eyes.

"Does not help much, but feels better," she sighed, wiping her face. "You know, I thought I could never weep again, after what happened to me. I thought all my tears were spent, and yet…now they return."

"They are quite understandable," I said, sitting closer to her and putting my elbows on my knees. My arms were aching from wringing out the huge sheets, so I decided to give them some rest.

She shook her head. "No, it is not the grief for my family. I…I just looked at all those men, at the host… How terrible it will be if the sacrifice they are making is all in vain. And most likely, it is."

We were silent for a moment.

"Lothíriel, your family are also fighting, are they not?" she asked gently, putting her hand on my arm.

I nodded.

"You are bearing it remarkably well," she noted.

"If the time comes to grieve for them, grieve I shall," I stated grimly. "Not earlier."

"Perhaps you are right," she said. "But then, you do not know what waiting for the tidings means. Every sound, every little happening, you read as ominous. You cannot eat, or sleep, or do anything… you wish to be there, you wish it with all your heart, and you regret you were not reckless or brave enough to follow them. At times you pity yourself, or hate yourself for being safe behind walls, but still cannot summon enough courage to go to battle. You throw yourself into every kind of feverish activity, and yet, deep in your heart, you know that you are not doing enough, and you hate yourself even more…"

She turned her head to look me in the eye.

"And you are afraid of dreams. You have them, but you keep them to yourself. You try to bar your mind from picturing your loved ones dead, cold and pale; you do not like to pronounce the word 'death', even if it concerns a dog.

"I thought I was past such things," she gave me a wistful smile. "And yet, seeing them ride off was like seeing my husband for the last time. Tending the sick children recovering from the effects of Black Breath keeps bringing me memories of my own boys… Some would say it is good… I am still alive if I can feel pain…"

I shifted on the wooden bench, letting her lower her head onto my shoulder. My heart was aching for her, and I suddenly wondered where this new Thíri came from, who could be silent when needed, and comfort – in her own way – and ponder over such grave matters.

For another two days I was simply buried under the great weight of additional duties. Many healers had left with the host, so a couple of the most efficient and experienced nursemaids were promoted to their places in the Houses. I was assigned to the youngest of the patients: children recovering from Black Breath and adolescents for whom the battle of the Pelennor Fields was the first one ever, and those who had received only minor injuries were bursting with pride. In fact, I even got a suspicion that many were very reluctant to leave the Houses of Healing and go to the tasks of clearing away the debris and rebuilding.

I had developed a consistent routine by that time: I breakfasted alone, quite early, and went to my smallest charges. I had a long and tedious argument with the Warden, the very day the host left the City, the subject being keeping the orphans apart from the children who still had some family. I had noticed that however kind mothers and aunts struggled to be towards the poor bereft children, any visit to their more fortunate mates would end in someone's tears. Therefore, I insisted on orphans being kept separately and managed to defend my cause successfully. Eventually, the Warden saw the reason behind my words; moreover, he recruited more nurses to look after the children in question, and I was appointed their superior.

I had personally supervised the recruitment, and was quite pleased with the new nurses. In fact, many of 'my' ladies were the same mothers that came to see their own healing children, and in the end many of my charges acquired a new brother or sister. Meanwhile, we tried to ensure that the orphans were not left alone at any time, and that they felt as comfortable as possible.

At lunchtime, I brought food to Éowyn and we chatted for a while. I was still very concerned about her. She seemed to be regaining her strength nicely, but the deep sadness in her eyes remained. I suspected of something eating away at her, something she would not share with anyone, but – alas! – she did not want to dwell upon that. So all I could do was try and rouse her a little with some teasing and jesting. She also enjoyed the company of her little squire, Meriadoc, so I tried to let them spend time together as often as possible.

I even told her of my last encounter with her brother, which brought her an endless amount of joy.

"He fancies you," she stated.

"Bullshit," I said angrily.

She almost rolled with laughter. "Do all noble-born ladies of Gondor use such language? If so, I would love to spend some time in their company."

She was grave in a second. "Seriously, Thíri, he fancies you. I know my brother. Why, he would never kiss a girl if he did not like her."

"He just wanted to make me feel better," I objected.

"He is not that good," she laughed. "Actually, I think he started liking you the day he spilled that water all over your dress. You did not scream, or burst into tears, of faint – you just went on with your plan. He liked that instantly, I tell you."

After a talk like this one, I regarded my duties a pleasant distraction. I would check on the older boys, then help with cooking or preparing medicines, and in the evening, usually totally exhausted, I landed in Faramir's room.

My cousin was much better. He was not confined to his bed or even to his room anymore. The Warden himself examined his wound and pronounced that the Lord Faramir was on his way to complete recovery and could even make short walks in the gardens. Faramir seemed immensely pleased with that.

In the evenings, we sat together talking, sometimes reading. He was also very sad at times, and then I would simply sit by his side, leaning on his strong shoulder, in silence.

"You rarely mention your family, Thíri," he observed once. "Normally, you love talking about them, if only jesting."

"I am afraid to mention them," I whispered. "I seem to be afraid of everything these days, cousin."

"Poor girl," he murmured, putting his hand to my cheek. "The work here is not too much for you, is it? If it is, you should…"

"No, I am fine," I shook my head. "Faramir?"

"Yes, Thíri?"

"You know, it is good to have you here."

He gave a hearty laugh. "Now that is a true healer speaking! Rejoicing at the infirmity of her poor charge! Really, Thíri, by now I have started to suspect you had some warm feelings towards me, but…"

I punched him in the chest. He easily grabbed me and pulled me to his lap, wincing only slightly from pain.

"I am glad to have you here too, cousin," he said, kissing the top of my head.

When the host was two days gone, I went to Éowyn's room and found my new friend in the state of fury.

She was standing in the middle of the room, her now good right hand clenched into a fist. Two of the nursemaids seemed to be trying to reason with her.

"Thíri!" she exclaimed with relief. "I want to see the Warden, now."

"All right, I will fetch him here, if you wish," I said, not quite understanding the pleading and alarmed looks in the eyes of two other ladies.

"I do not wish that," she snapped. "What I wish is to go and see him, myself. I want to dress."

Her eyes were little fires. I briefly considered the idea of tying her to bed, dismissed it and said, "I will bring you something to wear. The Warden might not approve of ladies in sleeping gowns walking around."

She finally smiled. "Thank you, Thíri, you are my dearest friend. How could I repay your kindness to me?"

"Do not tell the Warden it was I who brought you the clothes."

I saw her just a little while later, following in the Warden's wake. They were headed to the gardens.

"Where are you going, Éowyn? Got a permission to take walks?" I teased.

The Warden heard and answered, "I am taking the Lady Éowyn to talk with my lord the Steward. And you, young lady, must have plenty of your own duties to attend to!"

I could plainly see he was in no mood for jesting.

"What have you done to him?" I mouthed to Éowyn.

Her eyes were very resolute. "I am going to meet your cousin," she said.

When they were out of my sight, I chuckled. All right, Faramir, you will see those huge feet…

TBC

So sorry for keeping you waiting, guys, but I got a piece of text to translate and then caught a nasty cold, and it was orthodox Easter last Sunday, which we celebrate here in this country, so I could not get down to writing for quite a time. That is why I stopped reviewing too. But I promise to make up for the time lost.

This chapter may not be very exciting, but more drama is to follow!