Chapter 16

She had asked me to take care of Faramir.

I wondered if that could be done at all.

Faramir appeared absolutely calm, just as usual; he spent hours and hours with the King, helping him to know his new position better. (Secretly, I thought that Aragorn was rather overwhelmed now that he was faced with the task of running a country.)

I saw them together quite often; my cousin had realised that our new sovereign was not always recognised in the City, so he took it upon himself to accompany the King whenever the latter decided to personally oversee some works, to avoid any awkwardness.

Sometimes, there would be the Halflings with them, Pippin and Merry mostly; Frodo and Sam spent a lot of time at the Healing Houses, largely because of Sam's devotion to our gardens. Frodo seemed very content with not doing anything, as he told me once.

"You know, Lothíriel," he confessed, "in truth, I am the laziest hobbit ever. All that journey was so trying, and not only because of the ordeals; it was just not my sort of thing."

"But you once said you longed for an adventure," I said.

Frodo sighed, looking up into the blue sky.

"An adventure is usually a pleasant thing one gets involved in when there is nothing else to do. Take my cousin Bilbo. Of course, his journey was a big trial for him, but he remembers is with such delight! It…it had made him whole, if you see my point. Mine, on the contrary, took away a great deal of me, and I doubt that part is ever coming back."

I did not really know what to say. He spoke rather lightly, but there was deep sadness in his eyes as he said this, a pain that, I feared, he would have to carry for years.

Sam looked deeply embarrassed every time I tried to talk to him and would just mumble something very incoherent; Frodo presumed that it was because of my likeness to a certain "hobbit lass" named Rosie and once even tried to tease Sam about it.

Merry remained my faithful friend. It appeared he had received quite a bit of indignant punches from Éowyn, for giving her away to Éomer, and about the same number of kisses, for the same act.

And we all worried for Faramir.

"He would not talk about it," Pippin sighed. "Even to me, and I was there! I was all shaking, I thought he would start ask me questions right after we returned, but he never did, so I thought someone had told him already… and then Gandalf told him, and he only thanked him and left! And then, he comes to…that place every day, and stands there looking at something, but it is as if he does not see a thing… That is not healthy, if you want my mind on that."

"But had he not known before?" Merry asked incredulously. "The Houses were buzzing about the pyre, and the things you could hear in the City could give you creeps for life. And then, the trial of that guard, Beregond, – surely he had to have guessed! The man is not blind or deaf or dumb!"

"Perhaps he chose not to know," Frodo said quietly. "Remember, the people of the City and the soldiers, and you, Pip, you all knew the late Denethor as a madman who would send his son to death and his City to ruin. For Faramir, there had been happier times, and he might have preferred to think of the father who loved him rather than the one who tried to kill him."

"Like it never happened…" Sam whispered, staring thoughtfully into the fire.

"Yes, I think you are right, Sam," I sighed. "Like it never happened. Poor cousin…he had known it before Mithrandir told him, of course. But he had heard rumours and those could be untrue. Now…now there is no such hope."

Pippin sniffled and turned away, but I noticed tear tracks on his cheeks.

"Oh, Pip…" Merry said helplessly, reaching over to give him a hug.

Pippin, however, shrugged off his arm and turned to me, wiping his eyes.

"Well, you are his cousin, are you not?" he demanded. "You should try and do something about it."

I stopped at Faramir's door and knocked hesitantly.

Not a sound was heard from within, so I pushed the door and entered.

My cousin was sitting on the rug, flipping through the pages of some book, but from the look on his face I saw that his mind was elsewhere.

"Faramir?"

His eyes shot up, lighting with a smile, and for a moment I believed that all our concerns were for nothing.

"Thíri! How nice of you to come. I rarely see you these days. How is your work? I hope you do not regret your decision to stay behind while your father left together with the rest."

"Regret?" I grinned, lowering myself next to him. "We were together only for two weeks, and we had started fighting almost immediately after they returned. I am inclined to think that one's family is best loved from a distance."

Oh, no, I groaned, barely resisting the impulse to hide my face in my hands. Have I left my head behind when I was going here? What a thing to say…

Faramir gazed into the fire.

"Faramir?" I called as softly as I could manage.

He did not look at me.

"Please, forgive me," I whispered.

"There is nothing to forgive, Thíri," he replied evenly.

I sat there silent for some time, then ventured an attempt.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"What?" he asked sharply, now eyeing me with unreadable expression.

"About your father, cousin. I can see you are troubled, and I want to help."

"Help those who require help, Thíri. I was led to believe that you were working at the Houses of Healing, or have you been so carried away by this wave of festivities and you new attachment that your duties are no longer important to you?"

That said, he got to his feet and went to the window.

It was as if he had just slapped me in the face. I took a moment to collect my wits; I could not believe for a single moment that my cousin had really meant those words. This bitter sarcasm was a thing that was not he, and I suspected that it was used simply to mask the suffering. Had he said anything like that in his first days in the Houses, I would most probably have run away and wept until no tears were left; now, I saw this rebuff for what it was, and it was a desperate plea for help.

I got up and stepped to him.

"Faramir, please let me help you," I said, placing my hand on his shoulder. "We both know you need it."

He looked at me with what appeared shame at his behaviour, but there was also irritation.

"Cousin, I… I am sorry for my harsh words," he said, shrugging off my hand. "But I do not want to see anyone now. Not even you. I do appreciate all that you have done for me, but there is no need for further cosseting on your part. I can manage this on my own."

"Faramir…"

"Please, leave."

As I cast him one last glance, he was still standing in front of the window, dark against the evening sky.

In the hallway, I was startled to see the King, sucking thoughtfully at his pipe.

"Any luck?" he enquired, cocking his head.

Forgetting the bows and curtsies, I just shook my head wearily.

"Have you bee waiting for me, my lord?" I asked.

He nodded.

"I saw you enter the Steward's apartments and followed you. It took some time to persuade the guards to let me go alone," he grinned.

I was sure he had used some Ranger trick or another to escape. But I was in no mood for jesting.

"Can you not do anything?" I begged. "He respects you, and I can see you have become very close over these past days."

He saddened visibly; I saw his eyes darken with pain as he said, "People brought together by losses… Did you know, Lothíriel, that this war took those who I also loved?"

"Even if I did not, I should guess," I said quietly. "One of the Northern Rangers, right? The man who took your place after you left with the Fellowship?"

"Yes," he answered very quietly. "And Boromir, your other cousin. I liked him a lot, and yet I was too late to save him. Perhaps this also added to my desire to know Faramir better, and…"

"And those who manage to get to know him better inevitably start to like him," I finished for him.

"Another thing that runs in the family, I should say," he muttered under his breath, making me flush in embarrassment, remembering our conversation at the Houses.

"Do not worry about your cousin so much, Lothíriel," said the King as he bade me goodnight, giving me over to the escort he summoned. "I believe I have a cure for him, but that will have to wait until tomorrow."

"A cure?" I started.

"Someone that he expects to see least of all," he smiled. "A person from his happier past."

I wondered at this, but asked no more questions and returned to the Houses of Healing.

"Will you hold still, Luthien, or you will end up bald-headed!"

I chuckled as I entered Miri's room. Her new daughter was sitting on a high stool while Miri was trying to braid her hair.

"Don't want braids," the child shook her head vigorously. "Want long hair."

By that time we all knew that little Luthien got it into her head that loose hair ('long hair', as she called it) was better than braids, and no one could disprove that. It took great amounts of cakes and sweets to coax the girl into sitting still for her mother or anyone to do her hair.

The girl was a little storm, rushing along the hallways, turning over buckets, pulling dogs' tails (amazingly, none had tried to bite her so far), and getting bruises all over her little body. Miri had no family left to leave the child with, and I had a strong suspicion that even if she had, she would never be parted from her little daughter; but I could see she was a little bewildered at the amount of energy that was contained within Luthien.

"See who has come?" Miri pointed to me.

"Thíri! The child cried delightedly, sliding down the stool and flinging herself at me. She seemed equally incapable of both quiet speech and slow movements.

I laughed, tossing her in the air and making her squeal in excitement.

"Lothíriel, she is heavy," Miri warned.

"Oh, she is not," I said, holding the girl. "Look, Luthien, why not let your mother braid your hair, and then I shall let you both do mine?"

The child bit her lip, deep in thought, but finally consented.

Afterwards, we watched her run away, and then heard a bang and a loud wail, followed by Merry's soothing voice. He seemed to like Luthien quite a bit and took great care of her, so we could safely leave the comforting to him.

I had trouble going to sleep that night and the night to follow, too, and that made me mad, because I usually feel asleep the moment my head touched the pillow.

But now, I felt hot under the covers; when I pushed them away, I was cold; the bed felt unusually lumpy, and, to add to all that, I could hear doors creaking somewhere, and wind howling outside, and thousands of sound you normally pay no heed to, unless you cannot go to sleep.

Having turned over at least a hundred times, I sighed and got out of bed. It was no use trying, my sleep had fled me that night, so all I could do was accept the fact. I went to a big chair, together with the covers, and nestled there, looking at the dark night sky behind my window.

The door suddenly opened a crack, then someone, as if gathering courage, pushed at it, and, in a moment, a man entered.

I was scared; remembering my night adventure in the City, I had now grown a bit suspicious of strangers walking around at odd times.

"Who is it?" I demanded loudly, determined to scream at the top of my lungs if anything was wrong.

"Thíri, this is me," Faramir's voice replied.

"Faramir!" I jumped out of my chair, rushing to him. "Is everything… are you all right?"

"Yes, I am," he answered in a tired voice.

"I shall light a candle," I said, moving to the table. I had decided to have no fire that night, as it was quite warm outside.

"No, do not, please," he said, drawing me to himself and tucking my head under his chin.

"You are cold," I observed, hugging him tightly. "Have you been to the Silent Street?"

He shuddered, and I felt him nod against my head.

We stood together, silent, for a long time; I did not attempt to pull away, trying both to warm him and offer some comfort, though I was not sure I was able to. Finally, he shifted and loosened his hold on me.

"Thank you," he whispered softly, kissing the top of my head. "Will you forgive me for being such a fool, Thíri?"

I smiled, then remembered that he could not see it in the darkness and stroked his cheek, feeling its dampness beneath my fingers. Oh, no, my entire being protested. How much pain was fate going to inflict on him? Why was it he who had to suffer so?

Questions asked by thousands of others before me, but of answers, I did not know, so I pushed them back and concentrated on my cousin instead.

"I could never be angry with you," I said, continuing to stroke his face gently. "I love you too much for that."

He inhaled deeply, then put his hands over mine, pressing them to his face, and wept bitterly, tears flowing through our fingers. I embraced him again and guided him slowly to the bed. I made him sit and myself sat down at his side; he clutched me to himself again, hiding his face on my shoulder.

My heart nearly broke for him, but I could not help feeling a little relieved. His self-control was of course amazing, but it has not been doing him a big service lately, when he struggled to keep his anguish to himself.

"Thíri," he whispered into my shoulder, "I am so sorry to burden you with this…but then, I have only you to turn to... only you who is family. I tried, oh, how I tried to bear it bravely, but I could not… Every time I think of him, it breaks my heart. I loved him, Thíri, I still love him; we had our fights, but that does not change anything… he was still my father. You know, when I was lying in the clutches of fever, there was a moment of consciousness. We talked… and he said he loved me, too, and he was distraught with grief and guilt and despair… I shall be eternally grateful for that moment, to him, to fate, to any powers that may be guiding us."

His tears soaked through the light fabric of my nightdress; only now did I understand how tired he was. Tired of grief and losses, tired of the need to weather them all with a brave face… Even the way he wept gave away his weariness; no frantic sobs, just silent tears, all the more tragic because of their quietness.

I kissed his head, feeling my own tears trickle down my face. I wiped them off angrily. I had no right to weep. I had to be there for him, strong and calm.

"Has the King talked to you?" I asked gently.

"Yes," he answered. "Or rather, I went to talk to him. Just before I came here."

I gasped in amazement. "You?"

He chuckled half-heartedly. "Yes, would you believe it? I went to see him and said very much the same things that I have just said to you. I had to thank him, too."

"What for?"

"He was concerned about me indeed," there was slight surprise in Faramir's voice. "I never expected the thing he did. He managed to find my old nurse! If not for her, I… I would never understand that I was repeating my father's mistakes, to an extent… And he personally brought her to me."

"It is all as I told you," I said. "The man likes you. He wants to be your friend."

"That is nonsense, Thíri. Who would want to befriend a brooding one like me? I fear no one wants to be reminded of someone's losses when it is time to restore and rebuild."

I sighed, taking his hand in mine.

"And do you think he has known no losses?" I enquired softly.

"But… but we have spent so much time together, and he never speaks of any!" He sounded startled.

"Neither do you, cousin," I pointed out.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around me.

"You are right, cousin. As you always are. One of the wisest young ladies ever."

I chuckled and said, "And this wise lady now begs you to get some sleep."

"What, here?" He sounded rather shocked.

"And why not, I wonder?" I demanded. "I remember sleeping in your bed once. Besides, it does not look like I shall be able to sleep tonight. Come, get your clothes off, it is too dark for me too see anything."

It took some effort to persuade him to do as I suggested; finally, after I swore a solemn oath that the incident will be known only to the two of us, Faramir agreed.

I returned to my chair, sleep gone once and for all. Faramir was asleep, and by the way he breathed, calmly and evenly, I deemed he had no bad dreams.

There was a very quiet creak as the door opened. I turned my head and saw the King, with a candle he was shielding with his hand.

He nodded to me and looked towards Faramir.

"How is he?" he whispered, blowing out the candle and coming over to me.

"Not bad," I answered. "He was very upset when he came, but we talked and it seemed to help."

The King sighed and said, "It is good that he has you here. We talked, too, and I liked it that he seemed to trust me more than usual; but with you, you two being so close, there are no reservations at all. All right, if everything is fine, I shall be going."

"Guards waiting?" I teased.

He just laughed quietly.

"My lord?" I called to him as he was already in the doorway. "Please do not mention to Faramir that you have seen him sleeping here. He will be mortified."

He laughed again and said solemnly, "You have the King's word for that."

TBC

OK, I guess that would be the last but one chapter. Those who are by now furious with me for deviating from the canon in what concerns Denethor, as well as not explaining who that nurse is, can check my story 'Waiting', also posted here.

My special thanks to Dimfuin for the incredible number of reviews! That was a very nice surprise.

Yours,

Lilan