A/N: Sorry it took so long to update. I was having a really hard time deciding where to place the next scene and I was really confused about where I wanted this go at the end. Anyway, please review and thanks to everyone who has; you have no idea how much it means to me. Oh, and I changed Thengel to Éomund so thanks to those who pointed it out! I seriously have to stop being so lazy sometimes and go look stuff like that up…
Faramir's P.O.V.:
Flashback
I wake to find myself in a foreign room smelling of herbs and medicines. How have I come here? I close my eyes briefly and sigh: the Houses of Healing. I have been here many times as a boy, "volunteered" to its services by my father.
"Awake, are you, sir?" A soft voice calls from the bed beside me. She looks as pale as a sickly child save for the many patches of dried blood that are scattered on her face.
"Yes," I murmur, "how did you know?" The woman smiles knowingly.
"I have been waiting for you to wake since you arrived, nine days ago. Your wounds indicated that you had a remarkable story to tell." I wonder if anyone has told her the same. How could a woman bear the scar of the Witch King of Angmar? She must have done something truly foolish to deserve that, and something truly lucky to have survived.
"I'm afraid that you will have to speak of your tale first, woman, for I do not remember almost anything since a great battle near Osgiliath and my pain does not seem to come from any sword." Her face darkens with disappointment as she speaks. "Then I'm afraid that we must settle to speak as normal folk, for I do not remember anything either. You are Lord Faramir of Ithilien, are you not? That serving maid over there has told me so. Very well, Lord Faramir, I am Éowyn, daughter of Éomund."
She is so bold for her age, as if nothing interferes with her life except what is to come. "Perchance," I say quietly, "you should be grateful to talk at all. That black cut next to your mouth looks something dreadful." Éowyn laughs painfully until a sturdy knock on the door interrupts her voice.
"Come in," I say smiling. She has such contagious indifference.
A sweating man comes in, his face blackened by dirt and worry. Immediately he sees the lady and breathes out a sigh of relief.
"So I see you are healing, Lady Éowyn," his voice reflects his muscular build. Éowyn straightens in her surprise and smiles forcefully. "Aragorn, I am so honored to have you visit." I wonder who this man is, though his name sounds oddly familiar.
One of the healing maids stops applying my bandage and gasps in recognition. "My King! What brings you here again?" I frown in confusion. I have never heard of this man, this "King". This lady must be from outside of Minas Tirith.
Aragorn smiles weakly, obviously drained of all energy. "Actually, Ealrian, I have been staying here for quite some time since Éowyn's arrival just to make sure she was healing properly."
The old maid chuckles lightly and her face wrinkles fondly. "How could she not be healing properly, after all that you did to save her?" Éowyn looks as confused as I am at this point. How could this rugged man have healed such a deadly wound? She blushes suddenly. "Forgive me," she says looking flustered, "I did not even imagine that you had healed me. Thank you, sir." The man bowed slightly.
"Oh, and Faramir," she adds quickly, "Please forgive my lack of manners as well. This is Aragorn, the man who saved my life." I nod in acknowledgement towards him. "Your lover?" I ask her innocently. Suddenly the room grows deadly quiet and I can sense an awkward connection between the two. Aragorn breaks the silence with a feigned smile.
"No, Faramir, Éowyn and I are simply good friends who go back quite a bit." I will have to thoroughly inquire about this man once I am healed.
Soon Aragorn backs away from our bedsides with a look of embarrassment. "I will leave you two to rest, but expect me back in the near future." We both mutter thanks towards him as he gets up and heads to the door.
"My King," calls an elderly Gondorian soldier from the other side of the room, "We trust that you will restore peace amongst our people when these dark times have passed." Aragorn pauses to turn around and smile at the wounded soldier. "I thank you, sir." The door closes softly and I can feel my jaw drop in the silence. Ealrian picks up the dropped cloth and starts up again, winding my blackened arm and applying a fragrant paste to the other.
"I know what you are wondering about," she says timidly, "But we will save that for another day. You need to rest as the King says you should." I take no comfort from her words, but I soon feel myself drifting off into a soothing lull. I will find answers later.