A/N: Faramir again!!! His reaction however, might surprise you... I know I really didn't delve into the emotions of the three... I feel so guilty. I was planning to have a deep introspective chapter, but this bloody school is draining my energy. I may rewrite, or expand, if I ever feel up to it. But for now, I hope this satisfies.
Unicorn: I'm not even going to attempt to abbreviate anymore!! I don't think Elentari's necessarily "forgetting him", but she knows she shouldn't, and is trying to. I always tried to portray her as the more 'mature' one in the relationship, and then she has that whole 'fulfilling duty' issue going on.
Nayana: Hope you're not disappointed!
Shallindra: GASP!! You DON'T miss Faramir?? ::cries:: NOT good!! Ah! I made Theodred too loveable... not good!! Don't worry, I won't start demonizing him all of a sudden.
Elanor-G: Welcome! I'm glad you like my story, and thanks for the kind review. So you THINK you know what happens to Theodred & Elentari, eh??? Well, o wise one, let me hear your prediction....
Roisin Dubh: I hope your alright with these reactions. Their really not how I would wish them to be though...
Thanks for reviewing! Keep up the great feedback!
Chapter 38: Numb
"My Lord! A rider of Rohan!" a Guard of the Citadel announced during the mid-day meal.
Boromir looked up warily; he knew how much his father disliked being interrupted at mealtimes, but his heart flew at sign of news from Rohan. How he missed his sister! He looked across the table to see Faramir carefully hiding his eagerness to hear the message, though he could see the hunger in his eyes.
Denethor sighed heavily, his brow furrowed, but he relented, "Let him in, since he has come through all this trouble."
The Guard bowed, and moments later, a weary, but clearly enthusiastic rider emerged into the room, bowing.
"What news from the Mark, o rider?" Denethor questioned.
"Wondrous news," the man replied, which caused all three men's heads to jerk up.
"Speak," the order was issued from Faramir's mouth, which caused a sharp look from Denethor, yet Faramir showed no reaction.
"Prince Theodred would like to announce that his wife, our Lady Elentari, is with child, carrying our next heir," the man announced proudly. Immediately, Boromir glanced at Faramir, who was staring at the man, his eyes wide, and Boromir could swear he saw the anguish flit across his face momentarily, though Faramir had become so good at hiding his emotions, just as Denethor always did. Elentari, with child? He was going to be an uncle? Boromir couldn't believe it, but he beamed all the while, for he could just see how happy his sister would be, stroking her belly, anticipating the arrival of her child. An uncle! It made him rejoice, and yet feel old at the same time. The Steward rose from his seat, a rare sign, and beckoned the man to sit at the table, which meant he would be submitted to a thorough interrogation.
"When was this discovered?" Denethor questioned.
"Around two weeks ago, and then it was announced that she was already three months," the man disclosed.
Denethor digested the information, "Theoden must be overjoyed. To have an heir to his heir, he must feel his kingdom secure."
"Yes. He was planning a grand feast before I left. The whole kingdom was invited! Flagons of ale were being transported in every day, and animals were being slaughtered," the man looked a bit resentful on having to miss it.
"Don't worry, good man," Boromir reassured, "We'll make sure you didn't miss too much of the great feast. Come, eat," and he called for a serving girl to bring the man food. Faramir had not lifted his head since the man sat down, and announced the news, preferring to stare at the table, though his clenched fists that were steadily reddening betrayed his emotions.
"How is she?" Boromir questioned.
"She took ill several months ago, and the healers could do nothing to help her, and it was said from the Golden Hall that she vomited ceaselessly, coughing blood, but it disappeared a few months ago, and then the announcement of the pregnancy came."
"Elentari always had some form of a cough," Denethor mused.
"Yet does that not remind you of her illness two years ago? When Lord Theodred first came to our city?" Boromir ventured, "Does it not, Faramir?" His brother made no reply.
"We must prepare some gift. Boromir, what have you in mind?" Denethor asked. The Steward could not stop smiling, a rare treat.
"A sword for the little boy," Boromir mused.
"Must you always wish to impale people? Even little children?" Faramir finally spoke, sounding exasperated.
"If he is a lad, he would naturally want a sword," Boromir said, "I mean, even Elentari has a sword, and she isn't a man."
Denethor, even in this happy time, could not resist an opportunity to throw in an icy comment, "Not all lounge in the library as you do, Faramir."
Boromir quickly glanced at his brother, but to his surprise, Faramir did not seem to notice, or at least did not seem to care. With reason, Boromir realized, he has more pressing matters in mind right now.
"Perhaps, gifts are not enough in this situation," Denethor mused, "As she is close kin, and we have not seen her in more than a year, it would seem more fit to send a messenger of our own."
Faramir raised his eyes at this, no emotion showing behind that façade he had learned so well to use, and only one person could see through, yet she, the cause of his mask, was not here.
Boromir expected his father to turn to him, as they had discussed visiting Elentari many times before, but instead, Denethor turned his shrewd gaze towards his younger son, "Faramir. I know you have missed Elentari, and are extraordinarily happy for her condition," he placed particular stress on this last part, "Would you like to ride to Rohan with this man to bring our greetings and well wishes to Theoden and his son, and our Elentari?"
How cruel could his father be? He knew well enough how even the thought of seeing Elentari once more tormented him, and to see her in the house of another man, married, sharing his table, life, and bed, was torturous enough, but to see her carrying that man's child? Faramir could not allow his mind to dwell on it. After a very uncomfortable moment of silence, which saw the Rohirric rider cringe in his seat, his eyes fixed upon the brothers, trying to read behind the facades, Faramir raised his eyes, and with a carefully controlled voice, said, "Father, I would like nothing better than to see Elentari once more, but I believe that the great honor must be denied to me, for Boromir deserves it more. I know Elentari would much rather see him," how those words poisoned his soul, making his hands shake as he quickly slid them beneath the table.
"I would love to go, Father, if Faramir does not mind," Boromir meant what he said, for he longed to see his little sister, and how happy she would be, and he also knew how it would kill his brother to go to Rohan and see her carrying Theodred's child, and knowing Elentari, she would spear herself if she saw Faramir in Theodred's halls, especially with her in that condition.
Denethor turned towards the rider, who had finished eating, "I'm sure you are quite spent from your long ride here. Come, rest, while we discuss what we would like to give to my daughter and her husband. Theano," he called a serving lad, "Take this man to a comfortable room."
As soon as he was gone, the Steward's diplomatic smile disappeared, and back came Denethor's sly appearance, "How now, Faramir? I would have thought you would have done anything for an opportunity to see your sister. Has time cooled your passion?" He knew which wounds to poke within his younger son.
His palms were burning red, and he could see where his fingers had dug into the soft skin, but Faramir would not allow the mask he had adopted from his father break, "You know how I feel towards Elentari, but I would think it more appropriate if Boromir went, for he is the older son, and he stands above in all other things." Boromir could catch the bitter irony within his voice.
"Or is it just that you fear that she may not receive you kindly?" Denethor aimed his words perfectly, hitting Faramir's fears, as if he could see into his son, "Do you not think, Faramir, that time and absence have changed her as well? Her passion may have quelled, if yours has not."
Faramir's skin broke, along with his temper, and with it, all thoughts of respect, "Have you ever thought of poison, my Lord?" He could not call this man Father, "It would be a much easier and faster way instead of this steady precision and planning, and it would be over all in once. Any meal, you could slip it within my cup, and you would be rid of me, for is that not what you want?" Faramir kicked aside his chair, aimed his hand at his goblet, and sent it flying; it's contents landing all over Boromir. Denethor did not even blink, as his younger son stormed out of the Hall.
The Steward merely reached over, and righted the goblet, and as if nothing had happened, said calmly to Boromir, "You shall ride to Rohan then."
Anything that stood between the Great Hall and the outside of the Citadel should be pitied, for nothing could avoid the violent foot of Faramir as he stormed out of the Citadel. What did his father think he was? He wasn't about to ride to Rohan, barge right in, and tell Theodred that his wife belonged to him instead, though the idea had occurred to him on more than one occasion. She would die before she let him do that.
His mood softened as he thought of her. With child? Carrying Rohan's next heir? Could it be? She was still a child herself! Faramir's mind raced back to the times long gone: the first time he saw her, when she was born, and her mother took her final gasps. The horror struck him. He remembered the inhuman screams and ear-piercing shrieks coming from Aunt Ariethel when she gave birth to Elentari, would that be how Elentari would feel? He couldn't stand the thought of it. He had heard old women discussing childbirth once, years ago, in the marketplace, and though he knew he shouldn't mind women's talk, he had hung around, shame-faced, listening. What he had heard there terrified him, and he realized how fortunate men were to go onto the battlefield. The women had said that girls practically had their bodies torn apart delivering the babies, and more often than not, some other infection sprung from the delivery. And then another, even more horrifying thought struck him; Aunt Ariethel had died giving birth to her daughter. Now, more than two decades later, that same daughter was speeding down that same path that all women went through, though for some it was a one-way passage.
Violently shaking his head, Faramir tried to push these thoughts out of his mind. He told himself that those were merely the tales of old women, and if all women died from childbirth, there would be no women left in Gondor. His mind ventured to Theodred—how happy he must be.
To his surprise, he did not feel the irrepressible anger he usually felt whenever he thought of Theodred with Elentari. It did not mean that he had accepted their union, nor did he cease to love her; it was merely that he could not explain how he felt. Only one word came to mind: numb. He ceased to feel. He felt that he was unfeeling, that he could not bring himself to be angry any longer, about all that happened. That was what he had been for more than a year--angry, and now he was spent. Exhausted, he dragged himself to his room, and collapsed upon his bed, the welcome numbness soothing him, until sweet sleep, who takes away all of men's troubles, if only for that short time, sealed his eyes.
A/N: Not as good as expected? Eh. Probably. I'm not very happy with it, but I do hope it's satisfactory. Please leave a note!