Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear.

This particularly one is German, and this time we have opted for some more serious and deep thoughts in the tale. Meaning that there will be some angst in there as well. We are doing that with Earendil Eldar in mind for the comment of, "And to think... you haven't even exacted any torture on the poor dear." Well, now we have. It was only a matter of time before that happened. I hope that you shall enjoy what we did though.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

Now, since the annoying temporary ending is no more, (at least for the moment,) here follows part two. There is also a part three witch comes next week.

Die Könige sind Dummköpfe, part two

When they came back from the ride it was near supper time. Something that Aragorn, Eomer and Telheart were grateful for. They were all rather hungry. As before they ate in the village hall, a large building where the whole village gathered at times. For the moment it was them and some other representatives. They did not sit at the long table, instead one of the smaller ones had been set, and there was plenty of food.

The others ate gladly and several rounds of ale were served. Yet Faramir did not eat much. He had no real appetite as he was still running things over in his mind.

"Relax and enjoy yourself." Aragorn whispered quietly to him as he noticed that the young man was merely pushing the food around on his plate.

Faramir nodded and took a draught of his ale. Yet he could not force any more of the food down. To him it tasted foul and wooden in his mouth. Some taste that clung to his tongue and would not be washed away with the ale.

He felt much relief when the meal was over and they left the table. Not feeling up to hours of pleasant conversation he excused himself early and sought his bed.

Aragorn watched his back as he headed towards the inn where they had been given rooms.

"He seemed a bit distant this eve," Eomer noted quietly. "Do you think that something is wrong?"

Aragorn stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I would guess that he has worried himself to a headache. He is very concerned about everything and worries overly much."

"Denethor was harsh on him, or so Eowyn tells me." Eomer also looked as Faramir disappeared behind a corner. "We both know how he fears scorn and harsh words. It might be that he is not really fit for these things." He meant nothing ill with his words and Aragorn knew it.

"He is a very skilled Steward, he only needs assurance that his friends do not judge him."

Eomer nodded. "At first I doubted that he was worthy of my sister, but now I think he is of a great worth. He just can not see it himself."

"If he is suffering a headache and is still awake when I return I shall brew him a tea," Aragorn decided. Faramir had inherited the gift, or curse, of experiencing visions. A Númenorian trait that varied in how it worked. Faramir might fall into a swoon from it at times, yet he would sometimes act as if awake, merely as if he was wandering in a dream. Because of the visions he was also prone to headaches whenever stressed or worried.

Aragorn had learnt about this from Boromir while the Fellowship walked, and he knew about the dream that had sent Boromir to seek council from the Elves.

Eomer nodded in agreement and then he and Aragorn turned back to their host as they wanted to avoid seeming rude.

When Aragorn returned Faramir was curled up on the bed. Since the inn only had a limited amount of rooms they shared two double rooms that had two beds in each room. It had been natural for Aragorn and Faramir to share even if some thought the two Kings should have been together in the best one.

Faramir had undressed to leggings and shirt but had not pulled a blanket over himself.

"Headache?" Aragorn asked quietly as he laid a hand on his arm, gently alerting him to the fact that he was not alone anymore.

Faramir nodded, it had grown on him while he walked back to the inn. The hearth was cold but Aragorn soon had a small fire going, brewing a dose of a tea that should deal with the headache and allow him to sleep.

Faramir sat up and drained the cup he was offered, knowing from experience that Aragorn's brews rarely tasted too foul, and that they helped. He was right, it was slightly bitter in the taste, but not so bad he could not drink it.

"Thank you." He handed back the empty cup.

"Sleep now." Aragorn took a blanket and draped over him. He felt sympathy for him, he did not suffer regular headaches himself, but he knew how awful any headache was.

Faramir closed his eyes and snuggled down into the blanket, falling almost instantly asleep.

He awoke in the middle of the night, feeling wretched. His head pounded with such force he was afraid his skull would crack open. He had stomach spasms and it hurt so badly he could not even cry out. Curling up into a tight ball he waited for it to pass. His body was covered in cold sweat and he felt incredibly hot, yet he shivered at the same time.

Even in his hazy state he knew that he was ill, he had not been ill often since he grew into adulthood. Yet he was most definitely feverish now, and the pain in his stomach suggested that it was something more serious than an ordinary cold with the following fever.

It was bad enough that he almost wanted to wake Aragorn, knowing that Aragorn could most likely make him some brew that would make him feel better, but he did not want to wake him. He would feel so embarrassed. He curled up tighter and pressed his hands to his stomach. That was the worst part of it, the shivering and the feeling hot and stifled at the same time was unpleasant but not as bad.

Eventually he was exhausted enough to fall asleep again, even if it was not a restful sleep. He tossed and turned and felt very uncomfortable.

When Aragorn woke up he could hear stifled groans from the other bed. Turning his head he saw Faramir entangled in the blanket, twisting and groaning even though he was still asleep. Concerned, he climbed out of his own bed and felt Faramir's forehead. He was hot, too hot, and there was a sheen of sweat on his face. His whole body was covered in cold sweat.

Aragorn moved to untangle the blanket first, hoping he would be more comfortable when his limbs was free. Faramir opened his eyes when he felt the extended touch.

"Aragorn," he mumbled. He really felt wretched.

"Faramir." Aragorn sat down on the mattress and brushed away the strands of hair that clung to his wet forehead. "You have a fever, is something else wrong?"

"Not sure, feel pretty bad." He felt a bit drowsy, what he wanted most was to sleep deeply so that all the pain would go away. "Bad headache."

"I shall make you a brew for that, and something for the fever," Aragorn said soothingly. "I don't know what it is you have caught though." It had to be some strain of fever, but who had he caught it from?

"Thanks." Faramir rubbed a hand across his forehead. "Feel rather stupid to get sick."

"We don't tend to have a lot to say about those things," Aragorn soothed him. "It is of no matter." He went to get his pack and began looking through his supply of healing herbs. He knew what to make for the fever and the headache, but for some reason he did not think it was a simple illness.

While the herbs steeped in hot water he managed to get some honey from the kitchen to sweeten the taste with.

When he returned, Eomer was leaving the room he and Telheart shared.

"Faramir has taken ill of some kind." Aragorn said quietly.

Eomer nodded as he took in the news. "That would explain why he seemed to act so odd yesterday eve," he said. "He was probably getting sick even then. How is he?" he added.

"Feverish, and he has a headache. He has not even tried to get up yet so he must be feeling pretty bad," Aragorn said as he opened the door.

Faramir lay with his eyes closed and was breathing heavily. He did not react to the fact that he was not alone anymore. In fact he did not seem to react at all. Not until Aragorn laid a hand against his forehead. Then he opened his eyes.

Eomer stood of to the side. Eyeing him cautiously. He was a bit worried that the illness could be catching as there was no telling how far it might spread if that was the case. It was also disconcerting to see how far it had developed in such a short time. Faramir had not looked to be truly ill the evening before. He hoped that Aragorn with his vast knowledge of herbs could cure him, and that Faramir would not suffer much.

Aragorn was trying to determine just what the symptoms he had were. He did not recognise this as any particularly illness and it was disconcerting to say the least. He stirred some of the honey in his brew and handed Eomer the clay mug.

"Give him this." He said. "And carefully, it is rather hot." He searched through his pack after a salve that should ease his breathing when it was rubbed onto his chest. "When was it you began to feel ill, Faramir?" He asked. "The exact time as close as you can tell it."

"When we ate." He mumbled absently. "Was not very hungry, thought everything tasted funny. Then I started to feel rather bad and when I came back here I had an headache."

"Could some of the food have been bad?" Eomer asked as he helped Faramir drink from the mug again.

"Then he would not be the only one ill." Aragorn shook his head. "And if anyone else had taken ill we would have heard something about it by now." He shook his head." Yet I cannot understand it. I have never seen an illness act this way before. And for it to have come so quickly." He frowned as he paused in his ministrations. The salve he was rubbing on Faramir's chest should have eased his breathing. So why was he breathing even more heavily now, almost as if he was in more pain.

He looked up to see that Eomer was having problems with making him drink the brew. Faramir kept trying to twist away from the mug.

"Faramir, you must drink that." Aragorn said softly. "It will help with your headache. I used honey for the taste so it should not be to bad."

"It burns." Faramir groaned and he sounded pitiful Eomer thought.

"Let it cool some Eomer." Aragorn decided. Yet even after he had checked the temperature Faramir complained that it burnt. That was when Aragorn discovered the tiny blisters around his mouth. Whenever he brushed against them Faramir groaned with pain.

"Faramir, did everything of the food taste funny yesterday eve, or did it start tasting funny while you ate?" He asked.

"Think it tasted fine first, but it started tasting bad rather quickly." In some ways he felt better now that Aragorn was near, but in some way he also felt worse. Now Aragorn was stroking his throat in a way that was really unpleasant, enough so that he near changed his mind about feeling better when Aragorn was near.

"Open your mouth Faramir, I want to look at your throat." Aragorn said carefully. He was aware of the fact that Faramir probably would not like it.

He did not and it took some gentle coaxing to get him to open his mouth. Aragorn clenched his teeth shut. Faramir had a few blistered sores on his tongue and on the inside of his cheeks. His throat looked rather irritated.

"This is no mere fever." He said in a low voice. Low enough that Eomer heard but not Faramir. "It's poison of some sort."

"What!" Eomer reached for the sword that he was not wearing and cursed the fact that it was not at his belt.

"Some kind of poison." Aragorn said, trying not to show all the anger he felt. "Probably got it when we ate. I am beginning to think he was not paranoid, Eomer. If he has been poisoned, we can be sure that someone here does not like us."

Eomer looked rather grim and dangerous.

"Now that I know what it is I can take care of it." Aragorn went on. "But if they find out he is well again before we find out who did it. He will be in danger."

"I say we get him well again." Eomer stated. "Then we get him out of here and deal with the rest."

"If who ever did it finds out that we know it is poison they will kill him outright." Aragorn sated. "We must pretend that we think it is a mere illness, or we will put him at risk."

Eomer nodded solemnly, was there a more cowardly thing than poison? Those who knew Eomer knew that for the moment he wanted nothing more than to teach the one's who had poisoned his friend a lesson, with his sword. Those who did not know him well enough to know this were at risk of finding it out. The fact that they did not yet know Eomer well enough, was probably the only reason they had dared to use poison. Anyone who knew how Eomer was likely to use his sword would have refrained from such an cowardly act.

"So we tell them that he has fallen ill, and that we do not think he shall make it." Eomer stated. "That should satisfy them. If they find out you can cure him they would come after him again."

Aragorn nodded. "We need to find out why, and we need some help." He grinned slightly as he thought of a plan. "They would not allow us to send for help." He stated. "But if we claim to think that Faramir is dying, then we could say that we send Telheart after Eowyn. They would not have any reason not to believe us."

"He could go and bring back a rather large troop of men." Eomer nodded. "We should be able to have them here in little more than a week."

"I do not know how fast the poison is supposed to work." Aragorn noted. "But that should not alert them." He rummaged around in his pack after the right herbs to counter the poison. Faramir was curled up again, and with the blisters making it painful he would not like to take any medication. "They will know that we are trying to cure him, and we will tell them that he is doing poorly. He must never be alone Eomer, never. We shall have to take turns at watching over him, and we must take care to always be armed."

Aragorn threw some herbs in a pot of water. "That will not be ready in a few more hours, I shall go and inform our hosts about our Steward's condition.

Another temporary ending here, I apologize if it is not the best place for a chapter break, but there was no better one available. Luckily this is only a temporary inconvenience, as next week the last chapter shall be posted. The last of this particularly one that is. Until then, fare you all well.

Silver Sniper: Glad you liked the plot line, I was a bit nervous since it was the first time we made this one so serious and with angst in it. So you can imagine that I am glad it turned out well and that you liked it. The language is German, I got the phrases from a friend who have German relatives. I know that it is hard to recognize every language, so we do name them in the authors note. If you do not recognize it, look there, it should be there.

Your computer sounds like mine, I had to reinstall windows just to be able to boot it, I can be out on the internet with it now, but I can not open a word document, and it keeps going, 'C: error, information may be lost, please press any button to continue.' I am beginning to think that it just wants attention.

ForeverFaramir: Yeah, the background music is almost creepy at times. It is also almost so that Celebrion and me thinks that it is creepy. Sure, it is Faramir and he is the greatest, but how does he manages to know all of those languages. You must admit that it is quite impressive.

Horsiegurl: Yes, we thought that we should make an attempt at something more serious, and we were not sure how it would turn out, so we are very happy that you liked it. I can admit that I was fairly nervous to see what the response to it would be. So thank you again for your kind support, it means very much to us.

Lindahoyland: I had no idea that you knew German, mine is very limited, I can understand more than I can speak though. I used to watch some movies that had been dubbed into German, and you sort of learn to understand it then. It is interesting though, we are getting reviews in the languages we have used every now and again. That is interesting.

Also, I think that I am frightened here, your 'new story where Faramir really will suffer.' What did he do the last time? If that was not suffering, then we are not writing about languages.

Just had to tease you, I can't not wait to read what you are up to.

Vicky23: Thank you, we always love to see a new review. Also, thank you for correcting us, we do our best, but it sometimes are not enough. I got the German from a friend of mine who has German relatives, I shall have to tease him for not being able to spell it better. There might be more errors, and if there are we are sorry for them.

For the moment we have all the German we need since this tale is finished and just waiting to be posted. We will however be sure to keep you in mind if we decide to do more German, and since we would then have a source that would be guaranteed to be correct, that is more than likely.

Thank you again.

Shireling: Thank you, I must say again that it means a lot to me to have you reading this, and even more to have you actually like it. Yes, Faramir does tend to get caught in the middle a whole lot, and he always wants to spare everyone else. Meaning is the one who winds up suffering because he tried to make it easier for someone else. Fear not though, he has Aragorn and Eomer with him, and they are taking well care of him.

Legolas's Girl 9: Well, actually since I am the one writing this I can, but it would be a rather stupid thing to do since we intend to write a whole lot more of this. If we killed him we would have to bring him back in some way, and that would just be to much work. ;) Fear not, we like Faramir to much to do something like that. We have not harmed him more than that he shall be like new again after some glue and a hug or two. Feel free to help with the hugging part whenever you want and all shall be well again.

Steelelf: Yes, the previous chapter did turn out rather well. We hope that you shall like this as well though. Hm, you really sounded stressed, must be chaotic, I hope that you have gotten at least some time to take it ease now.

Raksha The Demon: I always try not to put in to many mean cliff hangers, but sometimes it can not be avoided. We write these things as a whole story, and then if they becomes to long we divide them into chapters as we post them, and it is sometimes hard to find a good place for the break. We do our best thought.

Also yes, it was German. We thought that we would try that as we had not done it yet. I hope that you found it interesting.

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote

based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score.

When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.