Chapter Fourteen: Accusations
Summary: Amlach returns from exile, and has a few things to say to Faramir.
A/N: This update is slow because I've had a sudden rush of quiz-making. Check it out:
More to come soon. :)

Faramir knew he was in trouble the minute he saw Amlach. What he didn't realize was how much.

He had known he would have to talk to the man eventually and apologize for what had happened. It wasn't something he looked forward to. He disliked the thought of giving Amlach any leverage over him with an apology, for one thing; but what was most frustrating was that Faramir hadn't actually done anything wrong.

Still, the last thing he was going to do was let Aragorn take the fall for this. In point of fact, he wasn't sure if Aragorn remembered the whole mess - they hadn't spoken about it since the day before their picnic, and Faramir had quietly had the order sent for Amlach to return to the city without mentioning it to Aragorn. With luck, Aragorn would never have to interact with Amlach.

Unfortunately, that left Faramir with the task of pacifying him.

When he saw Amlach heading for him through the crowd, Faramir quickly excused himself from the widow he was talking to and went to meet him, determined not to let Amlach control the meeting. "Lieutenant Amlach. Follow me, please."

Amlach said nothing, but he fell into step behind Faramir. Faramir debated on where to go and finally decided on his public study, not the one attached to his rooms. No need to make this any more personal than it already was.

Faramir closed the door behind them, grateful that someone had already lit the small torches in the wall sconces, for he could not have done so and it would have created embarrassment. His study never got much light, and it was nearing dusk anyway.

He took a deep breath before beginning. "Amlach," he said, hoping dropping the title would lessen the tension, "I'm glad to see you back." That was possibly the most untrue thing he had ever said, but he had to say it. "Let me assure you that this whole mess has been a misunderstanding. I never intended for you to be sent away." That, at least, was true.

Amlach shifted slightly. "You will forgive me, Captain, if I find it difficult to believe you," he said in a subdued tone.

Faramir exhaled. "I will. I do not know how to make you trust me."

Amlach hesitated for a moment, but apparently couldn't resist making a bitter comment. "I do not see why I should, since you do not trust me."

"You have given me no reason to," Faramir said flatly. We was too tired to be tactful. "And don't tell me that Boromir trusted you," he added as Amlach opened his mouth. "You tell me that too often. I have no way of knowing if Boromir truly treated you as you claimed."

He had hit a sore spot. Amlach jumped to his feet, the force of his standing pushing his chair back a few feet. "Boromir loved me!" he cried.

Faramir blinked, suddenly seeing something for the first time. "You..." He shook his head. No wonder the man was so hostile to him. "You grieve for him."

"How can I not? He left you in his place."

Bile rose in Faramir's throat, and he also stood. So...one of the countless number who wishes I had died in his place. But Aragorn doesn't. Not Aragorn.

"You are out of line, soldier," he said tightly. Gods knew he had to take this sort of thing from courtiers and diplomats, but not from men under his own command.

"No more than you are, pretending to be what you are not."

"I am the Steward of Gondor," Faramir said, his voice quiet despite his anger. "I pretend to be no more or less."

"You pretend to be Boromir!"

"I do not!" Faramir heard the edge in his own voice and tried desperately to reign himself in. "I do not"

"Yet you assume his position." Amlach was beginning to pace, running a hand through his hair.

"There is no other to assume it." Faramir was furious and ashamed to hear his voice crack on the words.

Amlach gnawed on his lower lip, silent for a moment. Faramir let him be. He was beginning to become slightly frightened. Amlach seemed unstable to him, somehow. As though his grief for all the pain and loss the war had brought was still there - convoluted, like Faramir's was. Only instead of a fear of fire, Amlach's grief was coming out as rage and hatred.

"I thought you would be like him," Amlach murmured.

The words hit Faramir like a fist to the gut. I was never like Boromir, never as good as he was. "We are as different as brothers could be," Faramir said calmly.

"And yet he loved you." Amlach was pacing in earnest now, only half speaking to Faramir - it seemed he was speaking to himself, or to no one. "He loved you, loved you more than he loved me. Do you realize how much he thought of you?" Amlach tugged at his hair. "Constantly, he worried about you. Always wanted to be taking care of you instead of the men on the field. And I thought it I could get close to you, if I could be near you I could understand what made a man like Boromir care for you.

"But you're nothing. He felt a sense of duty to youbecause you were his brother, Boromir would have tried to protect you and always get the best for you. He always knew it was his job to protect those weaker than him." Amlach's throat was closing up around his words, and his eyes became bright for a moment. "He never knew how much I loved him. He was too busy loving you."

Suddenly Amlach leaped forward. Stunned, Faramir found himself pinned against the wall.

"I saw him kiss you once," Amlach said raggedly. "Here." And Amlach brushed his lips across Faramir's temple, which had been Boromir's favored way of showing affection.

"Stop," Faramir said uneasily, trembling from the all-too-familiar gesture. He pushed Amlach away roughly.

The small violence incensed Amlach. "So I am unworthy even to touch you?"

"I" Faramir found himself without words. What did one say to someone suffering repressed grief and unrequited love for one's dead brother? Faramir was so obviously inadequate in Amlach's eyes. What could he do?

"You have nothing to say to me?" Amlach's face darkened even further. "Of course not. You cannot gain from me." He started pacing again. "The King is your new project now. You burden him as you burdened your brother," he said in disgust. "It is your way to find a great man and leech off of him, take him under your spell, make him protect you and give you attention out of a false sense of duty."

"Stop!" Faramir cried. "You have no right to say these things to me."

"But someone must say them!" Faramir made the mistake of meeting Amlach's eyes, just for a moment. There was nothing but hatred for him there. "Someone must recall you to your duty before it is too late."

"What do you mean?" Faramir asked warily.

"The King will become attendant on you," Amlach warned. "He will focus on you to the exclusion of all else, forgetting his duties and coddling you; and it will lead to disasters greater than Osgiliath. It's better I should say these things now than that they should be said in front of the Council. Better that it should end now."

Amlach suddenly reached out and took one of the torches from the wall. It probably was not done with the intent of threatening Faramir - maybe he was just distraught and needed something to grasp and crush in his palm - but it didn't matter. Seeing fire in the hands on his enemy made Faramir cry out and jump back. He tripped over the leg of his chair and went sprawling painfully onto the floor.

Amlach stared at him in silence. Faramir didn't dare to move. Then Amlach snorted in disgust and lowered the torch.

"No wonder Denethor tried to burn you," he muttered. He dropped the torch onto the ground, and Faramir was too stunned and overwhelmed to even crawl away from it as Amlach turned his back and left.