Chapter Nine: My Last Friend
"Their venom is like the venom of a snake,
like that of a cobra that has stopped its
ears,
that will not heed the tune of the
charmer,
however skillful the enchanter may be."
-Psalms 58:4-5
"Wake up, sleepyhead," a golden voice laughs, and I feel gentle hands brushing hair from my eyes. I blink at the sunlight streaming in through the windows and yawn.
"What time is it?" I ask, feeling an unnatural weariness possess me. She laughs again.
"Almost nine o' clock in the morning. How many times have you slept in before, oh wise one?" she jokes.
I smile to myself. "Not many," I respond, and she snuggles up to me.
"Well, you deserved it today. I believe you are still chilled from riding all night in the rain," she admonishes gently.
"I had to...I could not allow the troops up north to go without another day's instructions," I yawn, stretching my arms and pulling her closer. In truth I am quite warm and comfortable, if a little sore.
She shakes her head against my shoulder. "You must learn, Faramir, that you cannot always sacrifice yourself for others. You need your health." She stops speaking, and I smile down into her golden head. I close my eyes and relish the joy of being with my wife.
"Besides, the new baby will need a healthy father."
My eyes fly open and I sit straight up. "What?" I gasp, looking at my laughing wife. She leans back against the pillows with a coquettish air.
"Simply what I said, love," she smiles. "Another is on the way."
Bubbles are rising in my chest, and I cannot contain a laugh. "Three, oh Wyn, three!"
Her deep blue eyes sparkle out of her face and she nods. "Three, the perfect number."
Morning sun hit my face and I opened my eyes, blinking in the cool spring air. The birds were just awakening, and I methodically yawned and got out of bed, throwing a shirt and belt on and walking over to the window, which I flung open. My dreams had been growing more and more vivid, and I realized that they centered more and more around Feomir and the impact he had made on my life. One might assume I was uncomfortable with the dreams, but on the contrary, I enjoyed them. They were always happy, always heralding to me what joy Feomir had brought Éowyn and I. And besides, I had long since stopped caring what I dreamed. Dreams are a form of what the heart really wishes and desires, and I knew that to give into my dreams would be to give into my heart. And that was not acceptable.
As I finished dressing, donning my normal hauberk and boots (slipping a knife into them as I always did) I pondered the lesson with my children that I had conducted the day before. All had gone exceedingly well, except at the end when Morwen spilled her ink bottle. I could not be angry with the child, for she did not mean to do it, but I did tell her to be more careful in the future, for she had spilled it all over her work and her brother's. Feomir had looked up at me as if expecting a rebuke. Why does he do that? I wondered as I splashed my face with water. It is not as if I am in the habit of reprimanding him unnecessarily! Was the child so keen he could see into my heart and note the slight recoil I always gave when near him? I had tried so hard to stop that, but it was nigh on impossible. I told myself that it did not matter, and besides...it was an affair of the heart, and I must quench that. But it had persisted, though I hid it as well as I was able.
My thoughts still jumbled, I strode out of the room to seek my sons for our early ride.
Imrahil had left not a week ago when (on that same day after I'd had my dream) I saw a lone figure riding across the hills and smiled. Mithrandir. I could always tell when it was him, for he was always in dazzling white. His steed, as well, was beyond compare, and one would be able to identify Shadowfax from miles away.
At noon he reached the gates of my estate and I welcomed him in as he dismounted. "Still traveling to and fro, Mithrandir?" I smiled.
He nodded breathlessly and patted Shadowfax. "Wherever he takes me, I go. Isn't that right, old friend?" he asked of the horse. Shadowfax snorted and pawed the ground, and I signaled a stable boy, who came forward and bowed.
"Give the Maeras our finest stall, and see that he wants for nothing," I commanded. The boy nodded and hurried away, and Mithrandir followed me toward the house. I noticed him looking at me, as if trying to asses something, but I ignored it.
"You still look young, my boy," he said, laying a hand on my shoulder. I laughed.
"Though I am not," I replied. "But you too, look good Mithrandir...though I suppose a wizards always looks in the peak of health." We paused in conversation as we entered the house, and I led him to a room with a fire and chairs in it. "The wind still bites, though it is Spring," I smiled, seating myself.
He nodded, and suddenly he leaned forward in his chair and looked me in the eye. "Faramir, my boy, I am sorry."
My heart clenched as it had not for months, and it took me a minute to grasp control and say, "Thank you." Mithrandir saw and his wise eyes clouded over for a minute. "I regret deeply that I was not here, Faramir. It was not until a month ago that I even heard."
I nodded and began studying the fire intently. When my Uncle talked of her death, I was not afflicted. When the King spoke of it, my heart did not jump so. But Mithrandir...well, he had always had the unique ability to bring out the emotions held deep within my chest. But I fought against it, this time, with every ounce of strength. I had trained myself strictly to be unaffected, and I was NOT going to revert to the old days. Suddenly, I wished Mithrandir had not come.
Luckily, he sensed my dilemma, as usual, and he changed the subject. "And how are the children?"
What was this? Every single visitor I had followed the strict conversation line: first tell me they are sorry, then inquire after the children. I sighed inwardly and smiled outwardly. "They are doing well, I believe. Morwen suffers nightmares, but other than that, they are fine."
"Does Elboron still look so similar to your brother?" the wizard asked, a twinkle lighting up his eyes. I nodded with a grin.
"He does indeed. And he exemplifies his personality as well...and his skill with a sword," I replied.
"Indeed. And Feomir?"
I hesitated. He looks like his mother, I thought. "Well, he has not yet started with the bow, and only just begun the sword," I replied. Mithrandir nodded.
"I was referring to how the lad is doing without a mother," he said gently. I shrugged.
"The same as them all. He sleeps well, which is more than can be said for Morwen," I answered.
Mithrandir's bushy eyebrows furrowed. "The boy is more like you, is he not?"
"I suppose," I replied evasively. I was not sure why I did not want Mithrandir to ask me these things, only that I did not.
He seemed to get the picture, and with one last searching look, he dropped the subject. It was not until we had talked of random things for half an hour that Feomir and Morwen came scurrying in.
"Mithrandir!" they cried, jumping up onto his lap. He smiled back at them and said playfully, "Oh, don't push an old man so! You're liable to make him lose the treats he brought!"
At the mention of treats, Feomir and Morwen became as still as mice and looked up at him expectantly. "My, you've trained them well," Mithrandir winked at me, and I laughed.
"You can count on me. Morwen, Feomir...look in the left pocket," I advised. "He always favored that one."
The children dove forward, and before long their small hands were full of treats and goodies. "Now scamper off," Mithrandir smiled, and they tumbled off his lap.
"Thank you, Mithrandir," Feomir and Morwen said dutifully, and then they turned to go. I watched them running out with a half smile.
"Oh Feomir?" the boy paused and tuned around with a slightly frightened air. My face may have been sterner than I wished it; I do not know. "I want you to make sure you finish that poem, son. I will not have laziness in this family."
Feomir nodded and then scampered off with Morwen. I then turned back to Mithrandir and resumed talking with him, and I did not realized until later that night that Mithrandir had stared at me for a long, long time after Feomir had gone.
Mithrandir stayed for two weeks, in which time he had much opportunity to observe our family and how it worked, and I know he did not like what he saw. I was becoming more and more strict toward Feomir, I am sorry to say, and less and less toward my other children. I did not TRY to do so, but it seemed that every time I wanted to say something to Feomir something completely different came out. Worse, I knew that Elboron and Morwen were beginning to notice it too.
After everyone had gone to bed one night, as I worked by candlelight, I heard a knock on my door and set down my pen. "Come in," I called.
A white head poked itself inside and I smiled at Mithrandir. "What brings you to my study so late, friend?" I asked.
By his stance and manner I soon realized that it was something serious, and my guard went up. "I come to speak with you on a matter this is pressing upon me," the wizard said, shutting the door gently. "May I sit?"
I nodded and gestured to a spare chair. He sat, but within thirty seconds he was up again and pacing. My heart knew what he had come about, but I refused to listen and asked, "What is it?"
Mithrandir turned and looked me full in the face. "Tonight, something has come to my full attention."
I sighed and leaned back. "Yes?"
He put a hand on my desk and leaned forward. "Faramir, what is become of you? You are turning into something I know you are not. What did Feomir do?"
My mind was thrown back to supper and what had happened then. Feomir, in a five-year-old way had spilled his milk, and I had given him a five minute lecture on it. It was unnecessary, and I should not have been so harsh. But I shrugged anyway. "He spilled his milk. He is old enough to know better."
"Everyone makes mistakes Faramir!"
"Look, Mithrandir, if you're so upset over a glass of spilled mi-"
"It's not ABOUT milk, Faramir!" Mithrandir cut in. "It's about all I've seen over the past two weeks. The way you are curt with the lad, and punish him without reason. He's only five, and yet you treat him as if he is ten! You of all people should know better than to do such things."
My mind immediately jumped to accusations; what my heart did I do not recall. "Imrahil sent you, didn't he?" My eyes narrowed, and I stood. "Or perhaps the King? You are all spying on my family, trying to find some way to make my life even more miserable!"
"What nonsense!" Mithrandir snapped. "You have lost so many, Faramir, are you trying to lose your friends too? For that is what one could conclude."
I set my jaw. "In all your lives, Mithrandir, have you seen anyone as cursed as I? And what did they do to deserve it?" I do not know what was possessing me, for Mithrandir had been my closest friend since I was a lad. But somehow, I had the feeling that night that I could never have anymore friends, at least not real ones.
Mithrandir's face suddenly took on a grave expression. "Faramir, you have a tragic life, but not a miserable one. Think of your children, man! Think of your country!"
"YOU think of them, for I find it hard to trust in anything anymore," I replied. Mithrandir's eyes smoked, and we stared at each other long and hard.
"You do not trust in Eru, do you," he said, but it was not a question. There was no need to nod, for he knew the answer. "And you will not let your children either."
I snorted. "Why should they when life is pain? Why should I build up their minds with dreams and fantasies when the reality is cold and hard? I will prepare them for life's trials."
"But what of the good?" Mithrandir pleaded, again placing his hands on my desk. "What of all the love and light there is in life?"
"What of it? What has prevailed in my life? Only the darkness," I said.
Mithrandir shook his head. "That is because all you allow is the darkness," he murmured. There was silence in the room, and absolute stillness out the window behind me. The moon shone over the inanimate figures in the room, lighting up Mithrandir's face.
"Mithrandir, you are my friend," I finally said, "but you have done me no service. I will thank you to leave."
Never, never in all my days had I said anything like that to anyone, and I know Mithrandir was cut to the heart. But something else was dawning on his face, and he whispered something in an ancient tongue that I did not know. I saw his old face change to an archaic one, and he whispered as if in a trance, "He said that to me once. Those exact words. He said them."
I raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
His eyes burned into mine, piercing my depths, and for once under that gaze I felt unclean. "Your father."
It was as if he had struck me across the face. He of all people knew best the extent of what my father had done to me, and he knew what kind of man my father was. To call me my father to my face was, to me, as if calling me a minion of Sauron. I narrowed my eyes and hissed, "Get out."
Mithrandir turned as slowly as a century. At the door, he turned back to me, his gray eyes clouded with a grief I did not know he could possess. "No Faramir, I have not done you a service, for if I had, you would not be where you are. I pray that Eru will spare you from further pain, but I pray more for Feomir. And I want you to know that I will be keeping an eye on him, even as I kept an eye on you." He stopped, and with a deep breath he said, "I had hoped, and was almost quite sure it would never come to this, but it has. Hear me this final time, Faramir, if never again. What would she want you to do? Éowyn, like Finduilas, would not wish for her child to be abused. Come back from the shadow and understand."
And then he was gone. I set my heart and mind against him, willing his words away from me until they were gone. The next morning Mithrandir himself was gone, and it was not until much, much later that I realized what I had done.
And then it was too late.
A/N: Yes, I know-you all hate me now. I'M SORRY! But this had to happen, as you will someday see. I apologize, though. I myself have shed many tears because of Far's lack of insight. Now, please review! (And yes, the little fluffy part at the beginning was because of the enormous sadness of the rest of this chapter-had to give you something-)