For the two months after Faramir's arrival at Henneth Annun, the Ranger's stationed in Ithilien were busier than they had ever been. Ordinarily the "first half" (the patrol stationed during the first half of the year) was thought to have an easier time of it, there were generally fewer attacks during the winter and spring months than there were during the summer and fall months. No man who had ever been in Ithilien during the "first half" of the year ever agreed with that myth, though.
The winter months were worse than lean in most cases. Though the troops stationed through the fall always made certain that their compatriots had adequate stores set by from the harvest, it was usually only enough to get them through until late February before it began to run low. It was also usually around the time that tempers started to fray. From then until about May it was a rather unsteady diet of rabbit and a few roots to boost energy now and then. It took a man of much more stamina to patrol Ithilien in the "first half" than in the second.
It happened late in February that Faramir was scouting with several of his men near the river. Something upstream caught his eye and he walked down closer to the bank. It was a small boat that looked to be unmanned, as it came closer Faramir knew with certainty that the vessel was of Elven craft. Moreover, the boat seemed to be low in the water, as if laden, and Faramir's curiosity prompted him to wade out and take a closer look, despite the hissing whispers of his companions urging him to stay back. Faramir knew this boat had to come from Lorien, and he knew that such boats did not often simply "drift off." Wading out and catching the small vessel's stern, Faramir immediately shouted for help.
Running into the river, as much as one can "run" through water, Damrod came Faramir's side first. Together the two men pulled the boat to the shore. Faramir just stood for a few moments in silence, he was too afraid even to check if Boromir was living or not. Damrod put a hand to Boromir's brow and, feeling warmth, lifted the soldier into his arms. "We've got to get him back to the cave, Captain," Damrod said urgently.
"He lives?" Faramir said almost incredulously.
"Barely," Damrod muttered as Mablung hurried toward them.
"I'll take his Lordship, I can bear him easier. You just look after the Captain," the big Ranger said, noting how pale Faramir was looking.
In the boat were a number of items: Boromir's sword and shield, the Great Horn, orc weapons. Orc weapons… then they were attacked. Someone had clearly taken Boromir for dead, for this was a funeral boat if ever there was one, and it was someone in a hurry. Damrod took the sword and shield and pressed the horn into Faramir's hands before attempting (and failing) to knock a hole into the boat to sink it. Rangers were well aware of what harm could be done by one boat going astray and landing in the wrong hands, it was why their patrol was so vital. Giving up, Damrod pushed the boat back into the river, hoping that it would not wash up on the wrong shore. He took his Captain under the arm and all but forced him to get back to the cave.
Faramir's mind was awash with fear. What had happened, and who else might not have escaped? Faramir was sure that his father would have known the difference between life and death; did this then portend further tragedy? Faramir did not think that he could cope with the loss of his father, but he forced himself to put such things out of his mind when they made it back to the cave.
Mablung had already arrived and found Boromir a "comfortable" place to lie, or at least it was what Rangers referred to as comfortable, and he'd set out what medicinal supplies they had available. He backed away when Faramir entered, knowing well that his captain's skill in healing had saved several men in the past. Faramir, however, did not immediately reach for anything curative. Instead, he knelt beside his beloved half-brother, brushing the hair away from his face and feeling how hot he was. It took a moment to register with Faramir that he would need cold water to start with. Only when he heard a low groan from Boromir did he realize what misery his brother must be in, it was almost too much to believe that he was even alive.
Damrod fetched a bucketful of near-icy water from the falls and Faramir set a soaked cloth on Boromir's forehead to calm him, hoping it would help bring down the fever. He began to cut away the many layers of clothes from his brother, but stopped suddenly when he caught a golden glint under Boromir's shirt. Faramir's heart raced in panic and setting aside his knife he lifted his brother and took him behind the curtained recess without a single word to anyone.
Faramir's fingers reached tentatively for the laces on Boromir's shirt, his eyes closed, silently repeating to himself that "it could not possibly be that." When he pulled the shirt back, though, his worst fears were confirmed when he saw that simple and unassuming golden ring suspended from a chain. Faramir bowed his head, resting his forehead against Boromir's chest. "How could you?" he murmured repeatedly, as if speaking directly to his brother's heart.
Another small, weak moan from Boromir brought Faramir back to the reality of the situation. Telling himself that he would deal with this latest predicament when Boromir was able to tell him what happened, Faramir set about trying to get his brother re-hydrated and cooled down. Knowing it would take time, he again set about removing Boromir's garments, and wishing that his brother had not been so formal in his travel attire, some of these were costly garments to be slicing through.
The examination needed not be overly thorough for Faramir to see what had happened. An arrow wound that, by all rights, looked like it should have killed Boromir, was looking all the worse for infection. Faramir guessed at how long it might have been that his brother went without food, water, or even conscious thought and he knew that even a day was too much. It took hours for Faramir to clean and dress to his satisfaction the wound his brother had taken; Faramir insisted on working alone because he could not risk anyone else seeing what was suspended from Boromir's neck.
It was a painful process for them both, more so for Faramir than for Boromir because the elder of the two was mostly unconscious, only whimpering weakly when the procedure was most painful. Faramir wished he had the resources his grandfather had; he could have made certain that his brother felt nothing and the wound could have cleaned and dressed much more to Faramir's liking. Nevertheless, infection drained and dressed, Faramir concentrated on making sure that the fever broke, and soon. He dressed Boromir as best he could under the circumstances, needing to conceal the Ring, but not even remotely willing to touch it himself. Only then did he ask Damrod's assistance in keeping watch on Boromir's fever.
For four days Faramir stayed as near to his brother as circumstances allowed. The fever had not receded enough for Faramir's comfort and twice he had to reopen the wound on Boromir's chest. It was only luck, or perhaps something a little more powerful than luck, that kept the arrow from hitting his heart and it was more than just fortunate that the tip was not poisoned. Still Boromir was largely insensible; he recognized that Faramir was with him, but beyond that nothing more. He could speak but a little and did not usually say more than his brother's name, though several times Faramir heard him asking for his mumma as if he did not even remember that she had died when he was 10.
Faramir was in a terrible position. Every time someone reported to him of the movements of the enemy in the area, their situation grew more pressing. He knew he could not get Boromir moved from the cave, though, and then there was… it. Faramir did not even want to approach that subject in his own mind. What could have transpired to land this thing in Boromir's possession? The knowledge that his father would never have allowed that to happen terrified Faramir. The desire to stay in the refuge at Henneth Annûn until the coming war either was won or lost was very strong, but Faramir recognized the persuasiveness of the Ring and knew that there would be no winning or losing until it was either found by Sauron or destroyed by someone.
That, then, was Faramir's answer. Regardless of what happened to bring this situation to his feet, he was the only one present who could put things right. Faramir had made his decision, he would go into Mordor, leaving his trusted companions in command to do what they judged best, and he was even just reaching to remove the chain from around Boromir's neck when Mablung called for his captain, saying two trespassers had been intercepted and were being brought, blindfolded, to the cave.
Faramir was not at all in the mood to deal with more trouble, and yet it was a reason to delay having to take the Ring immediately. Faramir fixed his mask and hood in place and looking for the millionth time with sad eyes at his half-brother, he emerged into the main chamber of the cavern. In only a moment's time, he heard footsteps coming toward the falls and drew himself up, as much as he could manage, and tried to look imposing.
When the two captives were walked in and their blindfolds removed, Faramir nearly passed out from the relief that flooded him. Mablung looked a little afraid for Faramir when he saw the expression of shock and said hastily, "I shoulda' told you they were children, Captain, but with the Steward's new laws -"
"We are not children!" cried Sam in aggravation. "And we were told to come here to see Faramir!"
"It's all right, Mablung," Faramir said, throwing back his cloak and drawing off his mask, "I know these gentlemen. Thank you for escorting them, but I shall need to speak with them privately." Faramir glanced around at the men currently in the cave and all nodded, understanding his subtle directive.
"I could not be more relieved to see two Hobbits if I tried. Please tell me what has happened," Faramir said, speaking in a soft voice, half-afraid to hear what news these little ones bore.
Sam looked at Frodo, expecting him to give Faramir the details. When Frodo said nothing, though, Sam was not surprised, he had not spoken much at all since the incident at Amon Hen. So it was Sam who told Faramir about Frodo walking off to make a decision about their road when they came to the waterfall. Faramir stopped him and asked why it was Frodo who had to make that decision, for had it not been agreed that Gandalf was to lead them?
"Mr. Gandalf… fell in Moria," Sam said in sadness. "And Strider didn't want to take on the decision about our road into Gondor, because I think he wanted to return here and fight and let Mr. Frodo get on with his part of things, if you understand me, Mr. Faramir, sir."
Taking in the fact that Gandalf was lost was difficult, but Faramir could not keep from voicing the question that had burned in him since he found Boromir in the river. "And what of my father?" he asked in a voice so small and worried that Sam reached out and patted Faramir's shoulder in encouragement.
"Strider was all right enough last we saw him," Sam said. "He was pretty upset about the Ring and all, but that's why he sent us on, said if anyone would have found him and given him and proper funeral – Lord Boromir, I mean – it would've been you. You'll pardon me for saying, but it's not that I think he deserved one."
"What did he do?" Faramir asked solemnly. "How did he get it?"
"Took it from Mr. Frodo, of course," Sam said in utter resentment. "He swore an oath, and he took it from him, near strangled him to death as well!" Faramir lowered his head and the distress around him was so evident that Sam softened his tone, remembering that he had called the man brother. "Them orcs caught up with him near the river and he was shot. They took Mr. Merry and Pippin, and Strider meant to go after them, said it would be best if we came here alone,in secret anyway."
"It's here, Sam," said a distracted sounding voice that did not seem much like Frodo's voice.
"All right, Mr. Frodo," Sam hushed. "Have a bit more of this stuff, maybe, now we are here leastways," he said handing Frodo a few bits of lembas.
"Sam, Boromir did not die. I do not know what happened to him, but I saw the way he behaved when the Ring was near and he was not the man I have known then. I found him in a boat on the river four days ago, I took him for dead but a companion felt the heat on his brow and we brought him here. You are right, Frodo, it is here. Had you not come just now…. I had no way of knowing what had gone on, if any remained, and I was going to take it upon myself to get to Mordor. This must be done, somehow."
Faramir drew back the curtain to reveal Boromir, sleeping fitfully. Frodo slowly moved toward him took the chain from around his neck, setting him about himself once again. Sam glared at the warrior lying there, but he was also able to see the damage done and didn't think it right for anyone to endure such a thing.
"Thank you, Mr. Faramir," Sam said sincerely, looking up into Faramir's eyes. "What you've done has probably saved us all."
Faramir nodded, knelt to Sam, and whispered, "the burden now rests on your shoulders. Do not leave Frodo's side." He paused for a moment, glancing back toward the recess where his half-brother lay. "I know what you think of him, but I have known him for many years, and always was his honor his second priority, for he would never place himself above those who he defended. He folded under a pressure that wearied even my grandfather, Lord Elrond, while he was in its presence. You, Sam, are more than extraordinary. Stay true, and lay low, for your way is perilous." Faramir then called Damrod and Mablung and asked them to see Sam and Frodo safely off and to give them a bit of nutrition, if any could be spared.
Faramir went back to his brother and checked his fever, bathing his face in cold water and trying to get him to drink a little. Boromir now moved a bit on his own for the first time in days, drawing himself onto his side and curling toward his little brother. Faramir leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I've done what I could to put things right again, and you have already paid dearly," he whispered, tenderly brushing the sweat-soaked hair from his brother's face. "Now please just let me have my big brother back."
ooo
linda: Horrors, indeed, one minor scene out of what would have been many just like it. And, yes, compassion is Faramir's middle name... even though there really aren't middle names in Middle-earth, how ironic. You have been reading my writing for a long time, you should know what a truly terrible muse i have.
Elenhin: I used to not fit so much into chapters. I suppose i was always worried that you, the readers, would think it too long and get bored half-way through the chapter. As to letting Boromir have his way... do you think i maybe should have reigned him in a bit this time?
Redone: Thanks. I try to keep the updates coming as often as i can. I had a lot of pondering to do on this chapter before i settled on this course, but still it came pretty quickly once i got going. I almost always have reasons for what i write, though ocassionally i don't. I hated to split up Faramir from his family, too, but it did have to be done. I just could not bring myself to write a 10th member fic, it so messes up the beautiful balance of Walkers against Riders.