Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof
Faramir found Rohan impressive in a daunting manner. The openness of the plains shocked him, and he could not help but stare at the multitude of blond-haired men and women. Equally, they stared at him: obviously foreign, his clothing worn from only days of travel, his hair dark as soot, and his skin so pale! This (and no question remained) was a child of stone. Their stares made Faramir feel naked, and he did not look back after some moments, but the weight of the gazes of what felt like every Rohir in Edoras rested heavily upon him. Suddenly he understood that, to these people, Faramir represented all of Gondor. He straightened his shoulders and tried to appear noble and friendly at once.
He didn't feel either, in his heart. He felt alone and frightened. His horse was stabled and being seen to, his belongings, everything he had been able to fit into his saddlebags and knapsack, he carried. The urge to straighten his tunic bumped again and again against Faramir's rigid self-control.
For the umpteenth time he wished no escort followed behind him. The knight Culas and his squire Beregond, with whom Faramir had left Gondor, followed behind him. Faramir would have given anything to be alone. What sort of clean start could he make with two guards who, while Faramir respected that they protected him, made Faramir feel jailed.
Juniper, Faramir thought to distract himself. Used as a diuretic and to cure dysfunctions of the bladder and kidney.
Edoras was so different from Minas Tirith! Even the city was more open, a blossom to Minas Tirith's bud. Faramir felt terribly exposed.
Zedoary, Turmeric; used for debility of the digestive organs. (Memorized from the text given him by Theodred, Faramir knew not what this phrase meant) Ginger has the same effects and is more often employed.
He set one foot on the first of the stairs leading to the doors of the Golden Hall, and Faramir raised his head, and the doorguard looked upon him. That may be as well, Faramir thought. They see my approach; I do not hide from them, so perhaps they know I mean no harm. The stairs comforted Faramir, reminding him vaguely of the Tower of Ecthelion, and set his heart at ease. "Please," he said, turning to Beregond and Culas, "leave me be now." Faramir needed to be alone, needed to know he could do this for himself.
Culas frowned. He had dark eyes which somewhat frightened Faramir, unreadable eyes. "Our orders were to deliver you safely into the custody of the king of Rohan," he said.
"And so you have done. Here is the Golden Hall of Edoras and I am safe. You have done your job, and well," Faramir replied.
The knight's eyes seemed to darken, if such a thing was possible, but at last he nodded. Faramir sighed with relief and bade the knight and squire farewell. Then he pushed himself up the stairs, almost giddily.
"I am come to see the King," Faramir said to the doorguard, looking up at the tall Rohir.
"The King does not now hold open audience."
Faramir shook his head. "I have a letter..." Where had he left it? Oh, no. "One moment, if you please?" He dropped to his knees and dug frantically through his knapsack. "I cannot find it," he muttered, dreadful realization dawning. What if he had not brought it? No! He always remembered everything! He could not possibly have--
"That will be enough from you, boy. Unless you have reason--"
"I do, truly!" Losing his nerve, Faramir knew the doorguard found him suspicious. Theodred had written, Faramir knew he had, but now Faramir could not find the letter and-- his hand brushed against something familiar, and without thinking he snatched it up. This proved a most unfortunate move. The dagger gifted to Faramir in farewell from his father flew from its sheath, and in moments the doorguard had immobilized the boy.
Faramir's heart raced painfully. He knew that if he did nothing, he would stand no chance of entering the Golden Hall. He would be tossed to the ground and in all likelihood cast from Edoras, at which point he would dare not return to Gondor but wait, hoping, for Theodred to ride out and find him. But what course of action could he take? Acting on a sudden impulse, Faramir screamed as loudly as he could: "Theodred! Theodred, help!"
"Enough!" the doorguard, startled off his senses by the shrill voice in his ear, thumped Faramir in the stomach. The winded child immediately fell limp and silent, and the doorguard released him, but warily.
For a long moment neither of them dared move, uncertain and afraid, in each his own way. The doorguard feared he had injured the boy dreadfully. Faramir feared the doorguard. So they remained in silence, the doorguard half-watching Faramir and half-watching the stairs, and Faramir crumpled on the ground clutching his belly, until the door to the Golden Hall was thrown open and forth strode--
Oh, by Arda...
Faramir struggled to his feet. The doorguard straightened his shoulders, then bowed.
"What goes on here?" Theoden asked.
"My liege, this boy..."
The doorguard's words were lost to Theoden, who squinted at the child. He certainly looked familiar, but from where? Then all at once he remembered, and asked, "Daisy?" Oh, no. Theoden recovered himself, "Faramir?"
"Thanks be!" Faramir leapt forward and engulfed the king in such a hug that Theoden had to assure the doorguard that he was, in fact, quite fine. "Perhaps better," he added, smiling. "Now, where is Theodred?"
Faramir found Rohan to be every bit what he had heard, every piece of gossip a truth, and yet it was nothing the crude vernacular could touch upon. The plains stretching as far as the eye could see, those were true, but how far they rambled! How they shook with the hooves of horses, how gallant and brave the riders appeared, what heroes! Faramir sat for hours watching every blade of grass shift in the slightest of winds. He did not speak.
"Daisy, Daisy," Theodred would chide in jest, shaking his head when Faramir stumbled to what he now knew as home, often past dark, his legs moving stiffly from hours sitting still. "What do you see?" Faramir always shook his head to the question, and never spoke a word.
Every day he asked Theoden for permission to climb the city's wall and watch the plains. Theoden often replied, "Please yourself." Other times he might answer, "Look after yourself" or "Do not cause any great mischief." Faramir was unfamiliar with such a freedom, being more accustomed to such an answer as "Be back within the hour" or, more often, "How is your sword-arm?" The lack of boundaries intimidated him, and he withdrew into himself. This was also due to a riveting fascination with the new world around him. Every day he looked with wide eyes, drinking in every detail of his surroundings, sometimes the same details day after day, and he never tired of them. He dared speak of this to no one, lest he be mocked and the beauty shattered.
"Do you suppose Daisy is well, Father?" Theodred asked in private. The nickname seemed to have stuck fast to Faramir, who not only answered to it but even smiled upon it. "He is horrid with his manners--" meaning, of course, that Faramir hardly moved but to follow decorum "--and he hardly smiles."
Theoden nodded. "I believe Daisy smiles more within himself than without. Give him time to adjust. Rohan differs much from Gondor."
The next morning Faramir rose very early. He crept away from home and strode briskly through the streets. The sky was grey with a predawn lack of light, the air a darker hue as though saturated with particles of dust. There grew a terrible ache in Faramir's heart, as though it had been encased in stone and fought against it, and he broke into a run. Propelling himself forward, racing with all the muscle built up over the years, Faramir flew to the most eastern point on the wall. He tripped on the stairs, pushed himself up to his feet and, panting, braced himself against a rail raised for safety.
The sun came up slowly, every heartbeat second a fleeting eternity. Faramir felt beautifully alone. He felt he was seeing Rohan for the first time, the first man ever to see the land. He felt, quite abruptly, alive.
And Faramir did begin to live.
Of course he continued to run, but he invited Theodred to accompany him and together they informed Theoden of their intentions. They ran races, which Faramir nearly always won. Theodred often suggested riding, but Faramir refused. "You go on, though," he would say. "Do not stay here on my account!"
It was late afternoon, an hour or so to sunset. Faramir sat at a table in the library, something he believed every kingdom in the world to have, with a heavy tome lying open before him. Theodred stood before him, and his eyes were sad. "Will you ever forgive me, Faramir?" Theodred asked at last, snatching up Faramir's attention with the use of his proper name. "I never meant your father to be so angry."
"Whatever can you mean?" Faramir asked, raising his eyes to meet those of Theodred.
"You never will come riding with me," Theodred said. "I presume you do so in anger or in fear... I am sorry for what your suffered on my behalf. I was a stupid boy and did not think. When will you forgive me?"
Faramir bit his lip against tears. "I never intended to cause you harm," he said. Theodred raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Realization hit Faramir like a heavy stone: he would have to trade a piece of his past for Theodred's happiness. As a friend and a guest, Faramir knew there was no choice. "Theodred, I have never been given free rein in a library. Father bartered with me, granted me an hour or two but never could I sit and read to my heart's content..." he laughed. "My heart will never be content."
Theodred sat opposite his friend. "What are you reading?" he asked, and Faramir began to cry, so touched was his by the goodness of his companion.
The next morning, Theodred left a note for Faramir asking that the younger boy meet him in the stable nearest the city's main gate. Faramir dressed quickly and ran to find his friend. He and Theodred had explored every corner of Edoras together, running or walking, even only speaking of the places Theodred knew so well he could see when he closed his eyes. Faramir was not once lost.
"Theodred!"
The prince of Rohan smiled. "At long last, slow-coach," he replied. "Good morrow. Come and help me tack up."
Faramir regarded the horse before which the two boys stood, a huge black gelding. "Theodred, I would be afraid to put a saddle on him," Faramir whispered, shaking his head and stepping back.
"Then let us ride bareback," Theodred replied, smiling. He had a ploy and an indomitable spirit because of it. He would have his way. On such a beautiful day, what could possibly go wrong? The sun was shining, the air was clear, the sky so blue and eternal a person might drown in it. The day was one for happiness and adventure, or so Theodred most firmly believed.
"Your father--" Faramir began, but Theodred only laughed and presented Faramir with a letter, signed by the king himself.
Theodred grinned. "You have his explicit permission to ride this horse. Get up there, Daisy."
The plains of Rohan shook beneath the horse's great hooves. The earth split open, great chasms gaping wherever the horse struck. Faramir and Theodred shouted, whooped and howled. They announced their presence, pride and liberty to the skies. They screamed out their agonies and shames and were truly free.
Laughing, their lungs aching, the boys fell into the grass and rolled over and over. The great black gelding had been hobbled, his front hooves bound loosely that he could walk but not run, and grazed lazily. If he was tired, he did not show it.
"You're living, Daisy!" Theodred yelled. "Free of that horrible wretch you call a father."
"Theodred!" Faramir exclaimed. "I may not have a wonderful relationship with him, but he is still my father. Just because he and I do not embrace as you and Theoden King do does not mean that he is a horrible wretch."
Much sobered, Theodred replied, "He never allowed you to study botany. You always loved it. Why should that have been forbidden, hm?"
Sighing, Faramir shook his head. He turned away from Theodred, peering instead to the endless horizon, the grasses rippling in the warm summer breeze. "You cannot understand. You are Rohirrim. You are different."
Theodred crossed his arms over his chest. "Try me," he said, and Faramir did.
"Father wants proper sons. In Gondor, yes, this does mean a son who practices no such girlish arts as botany."
"You are lying," Theodred accused. "Tell me the truth. I order you."
Torn between his binding to rules of decorum, which, Faramir realized, he had one by one begun to throw out the window, and his desire to strengthen his relationship with Theodred, Faramir flopped onto his back and stared up at the sky.
"Do not tell me," Theodred said. "If you speak only because I order you to, we are not friends. Tell me only what you wish to speak of."
"I poisoned him," Faramir said casually. Then with a deep sigh, for Faramir's lungs at last filled fully with a great stone moved from them, he flopped onto his back and stared up at the manifold azure sky.
"You did what?" Theodred asked, disbelieving, shocked and a little impressed.
Faramir continued to stare at the sky. The soft grass tickled his neck and his braids formed a pillow for his head. "I slipped him a concentration of, oh, I believe it was elder but do not properly remember. I concocted a vile potion and my father consumed it unknowingly."
Theodred stared at his friend, intrigued, his eyes wide, but no information was forthcoming. "And?" Theodred asked at last. "What happened?"
"Nothing much." But Faramir was blushing, and again he told the truth. "Elder can be used as a diuretic or to cure constipation. If one needs not these symptoms but takes the medicine anyway, they may... experience... similar results."
For a moment longer Theodred only stared, shocked that Faramir would do such a thing, wholly impressed with his young friend. Then he burst out laughing and began to applaud. "No wonder the old man dislikes botany," he crowed. "No wonder at all!"
The leaves fell and the air grew colder. Rohan experienced a heavy snow that winter, and a marauding wolf that hunted deer more swiftly than the men did not help. Faramir and Theodred joined the party hunting the wolf, following two other men out of Edoras.
"Wolves," Faramir whispered to Theodred, "may live in packs of about six, or alone. They are silent, able to run on only their toes." They crept through a thicket in which the wolf was thought to reside, trying like the wolf to move in silence. Every cracked twig seemed to echo. Even the beating of their hearts resounded in their ears. Faramir jerked to the left of a sudden. "Did you see that?" he asked Theodred.
"Hush," hissed one of the men, for he too had seen and wished to listen for any telltale sounds. He was in the lead, a burly man who wore a foxfur cloak and who had with a knife removed the hair from his head. He enjoyed war and fighting though he did not wish it, and he enjoyed giving off the air of an impressive hunter.
"See what?" asked the fourth member of their party, a nervous but apparently competent boy of no more then twenty years. The three rookies followed the expert, glad for a chance to learn and gain experience.
"I fear we are prey," Faramir whispered.
No sooner had he spoken than a white wolf leapt from the trees. As though able to discern their leader, it bounded towards the older man. He whipped out his weapon of choice, a small axe, and braced himself. The wolf rushed toward him, jumped-- and at the last minute the man dodged to the wide, striking out with his axe as he did so.
But he suffered for his theatrics, for though the wolf landed roughly before falling to the ground, the man also fell.
The Rohirrim boys went to him, Theodred taking a protective stance and the nervous boy observing the damage to the warrior. Faramir ran to the wolf, which struggled to its feet. Blood painted its white hide red. It emitted a low growling sound, and Faramir drew the sword from its scabbard at his hip. "No," the warrior called to him. "We will track it." Faramir brought the sword swishing through the air so fast and so hard the wolf did not even howl. Its spine was severed; it died swiftly.
Before he could recover from the knowledge of what he had done, Faramir was being shaken by the warrior, who seemed quite all right save for the few gashes on his shoulder. "What are you thinking, boy? We could have found the den from that one! You lost us a kill, stupid!"
"Leave him alone!" Theodred's voice rang out with surprising clarity, and the warrior dropped Faramir. "You will not lay one finger on that boy," the prince continued.
"Meaning no disrespect," the warrior said, facing his prince, "but this boy may have cost lives, Rohirrim lives."
"No," Faramir said quietly, "I did not. Look at her. She was not well fed. She is not the predator you worried about. She is only a mother looking after her babes. Trying to take care of her babes." His words fluttered as misty clouds in the air, and he whirled to face the others with a determined expression on his face. "I will follow her tracks back to her den. I killed her. I will raise her pups."
The warrior shook his head and cried the duty insane, but Theodred said, "I will follow you, Faramir. You are my responsibility." The warrior followed Theodred, and the nervous boy followed the crowd.
To be continued
I am not certain of the botanical potions discussed in this chapter.