A/N: One song, by LeAnn Rimes. Hope you like it. Reviews! Tolkien owns
everyone but Isilmë, who is a poor victim of my twisted mind. Faramir, to
my great angst and sorrow, does not belong to me. His lovely character
belongs to Tolkien and his fair countenance-David Wenham, who also
unfortunately, does not belong to me. Thanks reviewers! Keep at it!
Chapter 11: Rest
In the depths of the cloaked night, as the clouds covered the moon and shrouded the stars from her view, Elentari lost all hope of Faramir awaking. The stars were what guided her through her days and now; even they faded in the night, leaving her alone and cold.
She thought of what Denethor had said, and Boromir's warning. She was to married off. A pawn, a pawn in a strategic game; that was what she was. She was a tool, in dark times, when all were looking for closer ties; she was the link, the tool used to obtain it.
No. She refused. She would not do it. She would die than be forced into marriage to a man she did not know. Like she said, she would only marry, unless it be to the man who held her heart. That man was lying in front of her, limp, stiff, his skin burning with fever, yet his hands icy cold. She sponged his forehead once more, as she had been for the past 10 hrs, with no avail. She caressed his blazing forehead, brushing a few of his fair locks aside. Why won't they just open? Those deep, tender, blue eyes full of love she had lost herself in.
"My Lady," a gentle voice whispered amidst the darkness, "Won't you take some rest?"
"I can find no rest, even in such a beautiful House, when he is in this condition," she murmured stubbornly. The Healer merely shook his head in understanding, "The sorrowful thing about working as a healer is, though you see many saved and healed and that gives you pride, there are still many that can not be saved. When you see the sorrow of those that loved him, your heart shatters and you just want to plunge yourself into a hole. Never to come out." Elentari nodded and turned to the elderly man, looking him firmly in the eye, "Tell me the truth. What are his chances?"
The old man sighed and gently smoothed the blanket covering the wounded man, "If this fever breaks, he will survive. If it does not, we can only hope the grace of the Valar spares him." Elentari nodded and turned back to Faramir. He looked so content, yet so vulnerable lying there, which made her think back to another time.
"Boromir!!! Boromir!! Are we there yet?" a young Faramir asked. The three of them had been riding for what seemed like hours and Faramir had grown quite uncomfortable sitting on the horse.
"If we were there, you would see it," Boromir replied.
"Where are we going again?" a thirteen-year-old Elentari asked for the umpteenth time.
Boromir made a disgusted noise and said, "I am never taking you two out of the City again. Will you just wait? I've told you for the hundredth time. We are going near Osgiliath, I want to show you something, but now I have about changed my mind."
Seeing their brother irritated, the two of them clamped their mouths shut until they finally saw the river city, though not as it used to be, glimmering in the distance.
"Yea! We're there!" Faramir cheered, but to his surprise, they did not stop at the City, but went past it.
"You will see," Boromir said flatly, before the pair could interrogate him with relentless questions, again. Finally, after more riding, which made Faramir stiff and ready to fall off the saddle, they stopped in an area of small wood. Boromir dismounted his horse, and motioned for the pair to do the same. He led them through the trees and finally, beyond a few branches of pine, they saw a shimmering lake.
"You said you wanted to go swimming," Boromir said, delighted at the awe-struck look on the pair's faces.
"It's awesome!!!" Faramir screamed in delight, bounding towards the water and jumping in without hesitation. Boromir stripped off his shirt and followed his brother in, pushing Faramir's head below. Faramir kicked and flung his fists to no avail and just when he felt his lungs were going to burst, Boromir released him. A fight beneath the water ensued with Boromir triumphing, as always, over his gentle brother. It was not until Faramir finally admitted defeat, which took a while, as the young boy was as stubborn as he was gentle, that the brothers finally realized that Elentari was not in the water.
"Isilmë! Come into the water!" Faramir called. She shook her head and called, "I'd much rather stay dry, thank you kindly. It's enjoyable watching the two of you attempt to murder one another. Besides, you two never taught me how to swim." Faramir continued to try and get Isilmë into the water, with no avail. However, they were so busy talking, that she did not notice someone creeping up behind her.
"Faramir, I find much more delight in watching you drown and piteously cry for Boro- AHH!!" The scream had barely left her mouth before it was stifled by cold water as Isilmë was pushed into the lake, new, elaborate riding gown and all. She resurfaced to see Boromir standing where she was, wiping his hands together triumphantly.
"Boromir, son of Denethor, future Steward of Gondor. Lieutenant of the Ithilien Rangers, you better start running!" she threatened, drawing herself, rather reluctantly from the water.
"I am waiting, my Lady," Boromir teased. Elentari ran, laughter ringing through the woods, after her older brother, who jumped into the water, right after she left it. "Get him one for me!!" Faramir yelled, watching them. Boromir eased his way smoothly through the water, not expecting Elentari to be able to swim. To his and Elentari's surprise, she glided through the water flawlessly, like she was born for it. She was about to reach Boromir, when something, or rather, someone, pushed her down. "FARAMIR!!!" she screamed for him when she resurfaced. He had a mischievous grin plastered over his face, and was trying as best as he could to swim away from her. She darted after him, as laughter and childish giggles echoed the woods, and grabbed his foot. He tried to kick her off, but she called, "I know your ticklish so don't even try!" He began shaking and giggling in the water, and soon, begging for mercy from her relentless attack. She was threatening him with more when suddenly; Boromir came from behind and with a yell, "Swim little brother!" tickled her more ferociously than she had to Faramir, "And you little sister, I know you are even more ticklish than he is."
Elentari shook her head and smiled at the vivid memory of that summer's day. They had all been so young then; unburdened by the cares they carried now, with free time to spend with each other. She caressed the side of his face and sang:
How do I, Get through one night without you? If I had to live without you, What kind of life would that be?
Oh I need... Need you in my arms, need you to hold, You're my world, my heart, my soul If you ever leave, You would take away everything good in my life, And tell me now,
How do I live without you? I want to know How do I breathe without you? If you ever go, How do I ever, ever survive? How do I live? Without you in my life, There would be no sun in the sky There would be no love in my life. There'd be no world left for me. I'd be lost if I lost you If you ever leave, You would take away everything real in my life. How do I? How do I live without you? Don't leave me...
As night wore on, she slowly felt her heavy eyelids droop, and soon, she knew no more, but the content channels of sleep.
Sunshine peeped through the glass of the Healing Houses, into the eyes of Lady Elentari. She awoke to see a Healer sponging Faramir's face. "My Lady! Wonderful news," the Healer, who had a rather high-pitched voice for a man who had already passed that many years, "His fever broke before dawn today. He is sleeping now, but should awaken anytime now." Tears filled her eyes at the news. He was alive. He was not going to die. Not going to leave her. Several minutes later, before high noon, that tender voice that she longed to hear called her name, then slowly opened his eyes. "Faramir," she managed to say, tears of joy, jubilation filling her eyes to the brim. He did not speak, but smiled at her and touched her hand. "It's about time," she teased, finally finding her voice, "I've been waiting." "Well I'm sorry to make my lady worried," he replied, his voice a faint whisper, but nonetheless, it was there, and it comforted her to hear it. "Ah, Lord Faramir, you awaken. We were beginning to worry about you," the Healer said, fawning over him, checking his temperature and bandage. "We need to redress the wound and then I want to get some fluid into you. Valaina is brewing some soup right now. When it is ready, you will have some. My Lady, I am sure you will see to that." Elentari nodded. "Wound? What wound?" Faramir said looking a bit confused. "Faramir, you were wounded at Cair Andros about five days ago and rushed back here on horseback," Elentari explained, laughing at the bewildered expression on his fair countenance. "Oh. That's why I couldn't wake up," Faramir said. He suddenly looked very small, almost lost, like a small child wandering astray through the levels of Minas Tirith. He continued to look a bit puzzled and deep in thought, "I felt this cold hand reaching for me. The voice behind it, I've never heard such," he shuddered. Elentari gently stroked his cheek, "Don't think about it anymore. It's over." Faramir nodded and patted her hand, but continued to speak, "There was nothing but darkness around me. I saw, I thought I saw Mother. But then I heard a voice, your voice, calling for me, and I had to turn from the tunnel." The Healer approached with new bandages and a pitcher of water. "My Lord, we must redress your wound. My Lady, if you care to watch, you may." Elentari grasped Faramir's hand as they unwound the soiled, dirty bandage to reveal a bloody gap in Faramir's side; a triangle with sides about an inch was dug into his skin. It was outlined with pus, which the Healer gently cleaned off by dabbing with a sponge. Faramir grimaced and squeezed Elentari's hand. The Healer's hands worked quickly, methodically, so that all the oozing pus was quickly gone and herbs were scattered above the wound. "Watch it, that will sting," the Healer warned before he administered it. Faramir grimaced at the pain, but tried not to let it show. Finally, the bandage was rewrapped around his body, but in order to do so, they had to sit him up. They steadied him and then pulled him up, trying not to hurt him. Though the movement was slow and gentle, a groan escaped from Faramir's lips; a groan he quickly suppressed, right in time, for the Steward of Gondor was standing in the doorway. "Did I not say that Faramir would live?" he asked, his voice stinging, grey eyes flashing. He evidently remembered the girl's words from the previous night. "Yes, you did, my Lord," Elentari admitted, keeping her eyes on the ground. "I have just received a report that Cair Andros has been taken back," Denethor reported, glaring at Faramir. "That is good news, my Lord," he said formally. "Yes. Boromir never lets me down," he said haughtily, and then pointedly added, "Unlike his brother." Faramir lowered his eyes, feeling that his father's words stung more than any Southron dart. "Elentari. I wish to speak with you later," Denethor ordered. "Later, my Lord," Elentari repeated, as a farewell gesture to the older man, who turned and stalked out. "Ignore him," she breathed to Faramir, who was hurt by his father's words. He nodded, but Elentari knew that it still hurt him. Soon, a maid brought up a bowl of soup, some soft bread, and a glass of water to her. She motioned to feed it to him, but he said determinedly, "No. Let me eat it by myself." "You'll spill," she said. "No I won't." "Yes you will. Besides, it makes me feel useful." "Well it makes me feel dependent and useless, as my father says," he said, his intense gaze level with hers. "All right, but if you spill, I'm taking over," she finally ceded. Looking into his eyes at that moment, she had forgotten it was the tender, loving eyes of her brother, her love, but rather, the steel of the Steward's eyes.
"So what have you been doing while I was gone?" "Other than moping and thinking of you, I was in Amroth." "The Sea," it was more a statement than a question. "It is beautiful, Faramir," she sounded like a small child, confessing after doing something against the rules. "More beautiful than home?" "You know how I feel about this City, melda." Faramir continued to drink his soup unsteadily, reflecting upon her words. After finishing, he moved to arise, but Elentari quickly pushed him back down, causing him to grimace at the pain in his side.
"Just where do you think you're going?" she asked, looking much older than him. "Well, I'm healing, aren't I?" "As you just said, heal-ING, not heal-ED," stressing the suffixes, "You're not going anywhere until the Healers clear you. Faramir groaned upon hearing this, "You don't expect me to stay bedridden, do you?" "I don't expect you to, but if I must, I shall force you to." Faramir groaned and muttered what sounded like a curse. Elentari sighed and rolled her eyes, "And you wonder why Illuvatar created women. You men have no self-control. Without us, you wouldn't live to your tenth year." "Without you, I couldn't live, period."
"You've not awoken an hour and you're already sweet-talking me. What am I to do with you?" she said, pretending to look repulsed. She stood to take the tray from Faramir, but he clung to her hand and pulled her to him for an embrace. As his fingers worked through her long hair he murmured, "I missed you. I dreamt of you every night out there." She murmured a reply, breathing in his scent.
"Now, if you don't mind," she said after they released each other, "I have work to do."
"What work?"
"I attend the Steward," she said rather dryly.
"Fun," he said, the sarcastic tone in his voice was impossible to miss.
"I will be back to see you later. You'd better listen to the Healers and do whatever they tell you to do. Rest," she said, putting particular stress upon the last word, "Do not attempt anything I would construe as foolish. I don't care if you don't think it is," she warned him.
"Yes, my Lady," he bowed his head formally, a smirk appearing on the corner of his lips.
"You know, if you weren't already wounded, I feel ready to hurt you, badly," Elentari said, her eyes twinkling.
"I'm not stopping you," Faramir teased, "Plus. I'd like to see you try. Wounded, I could still beat you." Elentari scoffed, "Don't test me."
"I'm waiting, my dear Isilmë." She had not heard anyone call her that name for so long. She stopped herself, reminding herself that she had duties to attend to, and that he was wounded. Any play fighting could wait.
"If you don't mind, my Lord, I have duties to attend to," she curtsied and moved out of the room, leaving Faramir there to 'rest'.
Chapter 11: Rest
In the depths of the cloaked night, as the clouds covered the moon and shrouded the stars from her view, Elentari lost all hope of Faramir awaking. The stars were what guided her through her days and now; even they faded in the night, leaving her alone and cold.
She thought of what Denethor had said, and Boromir's warning. She was to married off. A pawn, a pawn in a strategic game; that was what she was. She was a tool, in dark times, when all were looking for closer ties; she was the link, the tool used to obtain it.
No. She refused. She would not do it. She would die than be forced into marriage to a man she did not know. Like she said, she would only marry, unless it be to the man who held her heart. That man was lying in front of her, limp, stiff, his skin burning with fever, yet his hands icy cold. She sponged his forehead once more, as she had been for the past 10 hrs, with no avail. She caressed his blazing forehead, brushing a few of his fair locks aside. Why won't they just open? Those deep, tender, blue eyes full of love she had lost herself in.
"My Lady," a gentle voice whispered amidst the darkness, "Won't you take some rest?"
"I can find no rest, even in such a beautiful House, when he is in this condition," she murmured stubbornly. The Healer merely shook his head in understanding, "The sorrowful thing about working as a healer is, though you see many saved and healed and that gives you pride, there are still many that can not be saved. When you see the sorrow of those that loved him, your heart shatters and you just want to plunge yourself into a hole. Never to come out." Elentari nodded and turned to the elderly man, looking him firmly in the eye, "Tell me the truth. What are his chances?"
The old man sighed and gently smoothed the blanket covering the wounded man, "If this fever breaks, he will survive. If it does not, we can only hope the grace of the Valar spares him." Elentari nodded and turned back to Faramir. He looked so content, yet so vulnerable lying there, which made her think back to another time.
"Boromir!!! Boromir!! Are we there yet?" a young Faramir asked. The three of them had been riding for what seemed like hours and Faramir had grown quite uncomfortable sitting on the horse.
"If we were there, you would see it," Boromir replied.
"Where are we going again?" a thirteen-year-old Elentari asked for the umpteenth time.
Boromir made a disgusted noise and said, "I am never taking you two out of the City again. Will you just wait? I've told you for the hundredth time. We are going near Osgiliath, I want to show you something, but now I have about changed my mind."
Seeing their brother irritated, the two of them clamped their mouths shut until they finally saw the river city, though not as it used to be, glimmering in the distance.
"Yea! We're there!" Faramir cheered, but to his surprise, they did not stop at the City, but went past it.
"You will see," Boromir said flatly, before the pair could interrogate him with relentless questions, again. Finally, after more riding, which made Faramir stiff and ready to fall off the saddle, they stopped in an area of small wood. Boromir dismounted his horse, and motioned for the pair to do the same. He led them through the trees and finally, beyond a few branches of pine, they saw a shimmering lake.
"You said you wanted to go swimming," Boromir said, delighted at the awe-struck look on the pair's faces.
"It's awesome!!!" Faramir screamed in delight, bounding towards the water and jumping in without hesitation. Boromir stripped off his shirt and followed his brother in, pushing Faramir's head below. Faramir kicked and flung his fists to no avail and just when he felt his lungs were going to burst, Boromir released him. A fight beneath the water ensued with Boromir triumphing, as always, over his gentle brother. It was not until Faramir finally admitted defeat, which took a while, as the young boy was as stubborn as he was gentle, that the brothers finally realized that Elentari was not in the water.
"Isilmë! Come into the water!" Faramir called. She shook her head and called, "I'd much rather stay dry, thank you kindly. It's enjoyable watching the two of you attempt to murder one another. Besides, you two never taught me how to swim." Faramir continued to try and get Isilmë into the water, with no avail. However, they were so busy talking, that she did not notice someone creeping up behind her.
"Faramir, I find much more delight in watching you drown and piteously cry for Boro- AHH!!" The scream had barely left her mouth before it was stifled by cold water as Isilmë was pushed into the lake, new, elaborate riding gown and all. She resurfaced to see Boromir standing where she was, wiping his hands together triumphantly.
"Boromir, son of Denethor, future Steward of Gondor. Lieutenant of the Ithilien Rangers, you better start running!" she threatened, drawing herself, rather reluctantly from the water.
"I am waiting, my Lady," Boromir teased. Elentari ran, laughter ringing through the woods, after her older brother, who jumped into the water, right after she left it. "Get him one for me!!" Faramir yelled, watching them. Boromir eased his way smoothly through the water, not expecting Elentari to be able to swim. To his and Elentari's surprise, she glided through the water flawlessly, like she was born for it. She was about to reach Boromir, when something, or rather, someone, pushed her down. "FARAMIR!!!" she screamed for him when she resurfaced. He had a mischievous grin plastered over his face, and was trying as best as he could to swim away from her. She darted after him, as laughter and childish giggles echoed the woods, and grabbed his foot. He tried to kick her off, but she called, "I know your ticklish so don't even try!" He began shaking and giggling in the water, and soon, begging for mercy from her relentless attack. She was threatening him with more when suddenly; Boromir came from behind and with a yell, "Swim little brother!" tickled her more ferociously than she had to Faramir, "And you little sister, I know you are even more ticklish than he is."
Elentari shook her head and smiled at the vivid memory of that summer's day. They had all been so young then; unburdened by the cares they carried now, with free time to spend with each other. She caressed the side of his face and sang:
How do I, Get through one night without you? If I had to live without you, What kind of life would that be?
Oh I need... Need you in my arms, need you to hold, You're my world, my heart, my soul If you ever leave, You would take away everything good in my life, And tell me now,
How do I live without you? I want to know How do I breathe without you? If you ever go, How do I ever, ever survive? How do I live? Without you in my life, There would be no sun in the sky There would be no love in my life. There'd be no world left for me. I'd be lost if I lost you If you ever leave, You would take away everything real in my life. How do I? How do I live without you? Don't leave me...
As night wore on, she slowly felt her heavy eyelids droop, and soon, she knew no more, but the content channels of sleep.
Sunshine peeped through the glass of the Healing Houses, into the eyes of Lady Elentari. She awoke to see a Healer sponging Faramir's face. "My Lady! Wonderful news," the Healer, who had a rather high-pitched voice for a man who had already passed that many years, "His fever broke before dawn today. He is sleeping now, but should awaken anytime now." Tears filled her eyes at the news. He was alive. He was not going to die. Not going to leave her. Several minutes later, before high noon, that tender voice that she longed to hear called her name, then slowly opened his eyes. "Faramir," she managed to say, tears of joy, jubilation filling her eyes to the brim. He did not speak, but smiled at her and touched her hand. "It's about time," she teased, finally finding her voice, "I've been waiting." "Well I'm sorry to make my lady worried," he replied, his voice a faint whisper, but nonetheless, it was there, and it comforted her to hear it. "Ah, Lord Faramir, you awaken. We were beginning to worry about you," the Healer said, fawning over him, checking his temperature and bandage. "We need to redress the wound and then I want to get some fluid into you. Valaina is brewing some soup right now. When it is ready, you will have some. My Lady, I am sure you will see to that." Elentari nodded. "Wound? What wound?" Faramir said looking a bit confused. "Faramir, you were wounded at Cair Andros about five days ago and rushed back here on horseback," Elentari explained, laughing at the bewildered expression on his fair countenance. "Oh. That's why I couldn't wake up," Faramir said. He suddenly looked very small, almost lost, like a small child wandering astray through the levels of Minas Tirith. He continued to look a bit puzzled and deep in thought, "I felt this cold hand reaching for me. The voice behind it, I've never heard such," he shuddered. Elentari gently stroked his cheek, "Don't think about it anymore. It's over." Faramir nodded and patted her hand, but continued to speak, "There was nothing but darkness around me. I saw, I thought I saw Mother. But then I heard a voice, your voice, calling for me, and I had to turn from the tunnel." The Healer approached with new bandages and a pitcher of water. "My Lord, we must redress your wound. My Lady, if you care to watch, you may." Elentari grasped Faramir's hand as they unwound the soiled, dirty bandage to reveal a bloody gap in Faramir's side; a triangle with sides about an inch was dug into his skin. It was outlined with pus, which the Healer gently cleaned off by dabbing with a sponge. Faramir grimaced and squeezed Elentari's hand. The Healer's hands worked quickly, methodically, so that all the oozing pus was quickly gone and herbs were scattered above the wound. "Watch it, that will sting," the Healer warned before he administered it. Faramir grimaced at the pain, but tried not to let it show. Finally, the bandage was rewrapped around his body, but in order to do so, they had to sit him up. They steadied him and then pulled him up, trying not to hurt him. Though the movement was slow and gentle, a groan escaped from Faramir's lips; a groan he quickly suppressed, right in time, for the Steward of Gondor was standing in the doorway. "Did I not say that Faramir would live?" he asked, his voice stinging, grey eyes flashing. He evidently remembered the girl's words from the previous night. "Yes, you did, my Lord," Elentari admitted, keeping her eyes on the ground. "I have just received a report that Cair Andros has been taken back," Denethor reported, glaring at Faramir. "That is good news, my Lord," he said formally. "Yes. Boromir never lets me down," he said haughtily, and then pointedly added, "Unlike his brother." Faramir lowered his eyes, feeling that his father's words stung more than any Southron dart. "Elentari. I wish to speak with you later," Denethor ordered. "Later, my Lord," Elentari repeated, as a farewell gesture to the older man, who turned and stalked out. "Ignore him," she breathed to Faramir, who was hurt by his father's words. He nodded, but Elentari knew that it still hurt him. Soon, a maid brought up a bowl of soup, some soft bread, and a glass of water to her. She motioned to feed it to him, but he said determinedly, "No. Let me eat it by myself." "You'll spill," she said. "No I won't." "Yes you will. Besides, it makes me feel useful." "Well it makes me feel dependent and useless, as my father says," he said, his intense gaze level with hers. "All right, but if you spill, I'm taking over," she finally ceded. Looking into his eyes at that moment, she had forgotten it was the tender, loving eyes of her brother, her love, but rather, the steel of the Steward's eyes.
"So what have you been doing while I was gone?" "Other than moping and thinking of you, I was in Amroth." "The Sea," it was more a statement than a question. "It is beautiful, Faramir," she sounded like a small child, confessing after doing something against the rules. "More beautiful than home?" "You know how I feel about this City, melda." Faramir continued to drink his soup unsteadily, reflecting upon her words. After finishing, he moved to arise, but Elentari quickly pushed him back down, causing him to grimace at the pain in his side.
"Just where do you think you're going?" she asked, looking much older than him. "Well, I'm healing, aren't I?" "As you just said, heal-ING, not heal-ED," stressing the suffixes, "You're not going anywhere until the Healers clear you. Faramir groaned upon hearing this, "You don't expect me to stay bedridden, do you?" "I don't expect you to, but if I must, I shall force you to." Faramir groaned and muttered what sounded like a curse. Elentari sighed and rolled her eyes, "And you wonder why Illuvatar created women. You men have no self-control. Without us, you wouldn't live to your tenth year." "Without you, I couldn't live, period."
"You've not awoken an hour and you're already sweet-talking me. What am I to do with you?" she said, pretending to look repulsed. She stood to take the tray from Faramir, but he clung to her hand and pulled her to him for an embrace. As his fingers worked through her long hair he murmured, "I missed you. I dreamt of you every night out there." She murmured a reply, breathing in his scent.
"Now, if you don't mind," she said after they released each other, "I have work to do."
"What work?"
"I attend the Steward," she said rather dryly.
"Fun," he said, the sarcastic tone in his voice was impossible to miss.
"I will be back to see you later. You'd better listen to the Healers and do whatever they tell you to do. Rest," she said, putting particular stress upon the last word, "Do not attempt anything I would construe as foolish. I don't care if you don't think it is," she warned him.
"Yes, my Lady," he bowed his head formally, a smirk appearing on the corner of his lips.
"You know, if you weren't already wounded, I feel ready to hurt you, badly," Elentari said, her eyes twinkling.
"I'm not stopping you," Faramir teased, "Plus. I'd like to see you try. Wounded, I could still beat you." Elentari scoffed, "Don't test me."
"I'm waiting, my dear Isilmë." She had not heard anyone call her that name for so long. She stopped herself, reminding herself that she had duties to attend to, and that he was wounded. Any play fighting could wait.
"If you don't mind, my Lord, I have duties to attend to," she curtsied and moved out of the room, leaving Faramir there to 'rest'.