By noon Faramir stood in front of the barracks in hideously uncomfortable plate armor. Boromir's men were practically disconsolate to hear from Faramir that the rumors of their captain's death were true, for Faramir had decided that he needed to accept his brother's loss, wherever he might be. In Boromir's place, though, every man present would follow Faramir to the death as well. The men were forming up to go to the stables and Faramir was just going toward Gandalf's quarters to ask him to relay a few things to his father, in case he did not get the chance. Even Gandalf had tears rolling down his wrinkled face as he said, "that order is madness, Faramir. No soldier is required to obey the order of a madman."
"Quite right, but I am no longer required to obey Denethor's word in any case. I am not doing this because he bid it. I am doing this for Bor-," Faramir's voice caught as he buried his face against his old friend's shoulder. Everyone in the city knew by now that this was a suicide mission. Some, the more astute and "inside" citizens of Citadel who saw often Denethor's reactions to Faramir, could not help but think this was not so much a suicide mission as it was a murder mission.
Near the barracks were the men of Boromir's company assembled was Imrahil, watching the captain intently. Not only did this young man resemble his nephew, but he also bore a resemblance to his beloved sister. Now Imrahil was aware that Finduilas had borne a second child, five years younger than Boromir and not of Denethor's loins. On her deathbed, she had spoken the name of her "little Faramir," begging the gods to protect him. As Faramir lead them to the stables to mount up and ride out of the City to Osgiliath, Imrahil went to Gandalf, whom he respected immensely, and asked who the young man was.
Gandalf's response, with an inflection of knowing why Imrahil was so interested, "that is Faramir," rather than "that is Faramir," stood the Prince of Dol Amroth on end for a moment.
A dearly loved child of his sister that he had never known, riding out on such a horrendous mission in devotion to his half-brother… it stirred Imrahil's heart to tears to see one so very valiant and loyal, yet so humble. To act out of love alone was a rare thing in such dark times. Would that he had only known this child as well as he did Boromir!
"Ah, do not wish it!" Gandalf said, performing that mind-reading trickery that frightened many. "Finduilas knew what she was doing, for that one had meant all to his father and neither could have come so far without the other."
Faramir hated the long ride, down through all the levels of the city. The people lined the way with sorrow in their eyes, pity for these brave men who were essentially a sacrifice. Some only wept, some ladies pressed "favors" into the hands of riders, perhaps it was a comfort to die with a woman's flower or scarf tucked inside one's gauntlet. Those whose husbands, lovers, or sons were riding reached out to them, some taking last kisses.
Faramir saw all of these goodbyes and for the first time in his life, he was thankful to be wearing a helm that covered his face; though never one to hide his feelings, the sense of privacy allowed Faramir to think of his father as they rode and to make his silent goodbyes. The one thing that broke Faramir's heart above all else was the thought of his father arriving victorious in Minas Tirith only to learn of his son's death. Faramir hated so much to be a cause of hurt to the father he adored and he allowed himself a moment, only a moment, to lean low over his saddle pommel and simply weep of what was surely to be.
Once they had all passed the gates and formed ranks on the field, Faramir turned to his men, looking each in the eye and assessing fear in some, bravery in others, sadness in them all, and he shouted, with all the passion he had, "For Boromir!" The cry was echoed by the entire company and resounded off the city walls, sure to be heard even in the highest room of the Tower.
Imrahil stood at the wall looking out over the Pelennor as he watched the men riding out. He was awash with silent tears and turned to Gandalf saying, "I have no doubt that that man is my lost nephew."
Gandalf did not respond to that, but only said, "This is going to break his father's heart intolerably. I watched him grow up at his father's side, they were inseparable, and one often wondered who was more dependant upon whom." It was rather clear that his father's was not to be the only heart hurt by this suicide mission.
"Finduilas, even if the gods shall not help, I will not fail you," Imrahil said, looking upward. He turned then and went back inside the barracks.
Osgiliath was oddly still as the riders charged toward it. It made Faramir tense and anxious. His company rode with caution into the western side of the city. This place had been crawling with orcs, it was visible from the City, but where were they now? With even more caution did the men cross over to the Eastern half of the city. That was when fighting broke out very suddenly. Many of Boromir's men were not used to the kind of city warfare being waged in the ruined streets of Osgiliath, orcs would suddenly jump out from old buildings or around corners. The Rangers, however, were used to ducking in and out of trees and so fared better.
The struggle just went on and on and it seemed that for every orc killed another nine were standing in its place. After a solid day of fighting, Faramir was growing desperate. Gondor was losing too many and it felt like they were not making so much as a dent in the enemy's forces. Faramir called his forces back to the Causeway Forts. It was at least a little easier to keep the enemy from crossing that way. What Faramir had not counted on was the fact that orcs were already coming in from Anórien, having taken Cair Andros.
When the attack from northward came in the fight grew grim. No one had really thought they would make it out of this anyway, but now was the reality starting to hit home for the men there. More and more death cries were heard, some calling desperately for loved ones, some damning the Steward for sending them, some just in agony.
"We have to retreat," Anborn said, just getting close enough to Faramir to speak before resuming his hacking of orc limbs, though his own limbs felt as though they were going to drop off on their own.
Faramir did not have time to respond immediately. For a second he found himself not swinging at anything and was able to disappear into an abandoned building to breathe for a moment. He glanced around warily, feeling the presence of another and thinking that an orc was hiding, waiting to attack him. No such thing happened though and Faramir chalked it up to paranoia. He pulled himself away from the wall, telling himself he had to go back out there. Such was the danger of taking even the shortest of rests during a battle. As he moved, though, a tiny glint in the corner caught his eye and he knelt to see what was there. As he reached out, Faramir felt something clasp his wrist, pulling him forward.
"Boromir?" Faramir merely breathed.
"Fara', get out of here now," Boromir hissed. "I don't know what you think you are doing! Go!"
"No," Faramir whispered, voice trembling. "I will not leave you here again."
"I cannot walk, you have no choice. Go!" Boromir's tone was silent but sharp.
Assessing the situation in a heartbeat, Faramir shook his head and lifted his brother into his arms. "Do not make a sound unless you want us both dead," he cautioned, knowing Boromir would protest. Faramir crossed the ruined street and ducked into another building. From there he carried Boromir to the backmost room and silently pushed open a door. The door led to a long tunnel that let out near the city wall. "I always told you it pays to spend time in a library," Faramir said. He put his brother atop his horse and told him to get back to the city.
"No, now you are going to listen to me. Everything I have done so far has been to your benefit, now I will not leave without you on this horse also, whether he likes to bear us both or not," Boromir said obdurately.
"Boromir, I will stand with the men until the end!" Faramir insisted.
"Little brother, this is the end. There is naught more for us to do but to get home and hope she stands." Faramir hated the sound of resignation in his brother's voice, it was wholly foreign.
"I would have given the retreat order already if I had not found…. Anborn, call the retreat," Faramir shouted, spying his second across the way. "Now, listen to reason, I must stay to see to it that this is an honorable retreat, that we do not lose more."
"There is no longer any honor, Faramir. All that is left for a man is to save himself… or someone he loves. Now get up here!" Faramir could not help but think that Boromir was masking that statement as a way of asking for help, as if he was asking Faramir to save him, not the other way round. Boromir began to slouch forward atop the unsaddled horse and looked like he was struggling to breathe. Faramir knew he was headed for a faint and jumped up behind him, catching him just in time. It was a lucky thing that Faramir was more comfortable riding without tack than with.
As what was left of his men began their retreat, which was not going well, especially for the rearguard, a host of knights in blue was crossing the Pelennor led by a white rider. The field was already in battle; forces of orcs, Haradrim, and Nazgûl were overrunning the place, making the retreat extremely difficult, as even more of Gondor's men were lost. It was a blessing of the Valar, thought Faramir, that Boromir was not conscious to see this. A few more blessings and they might reach the city….
Just then, something struck Faramir's shoulder and knocked him from the horse. For a moment, he did not know what happened as he lay there on the ground. Then he looked around for the horse, for Boromir but did not see them. He tried to get back up, but his legs failed him completely, he was at the uttermost end of exhaustion and began to feel something strange working on him, something more than just exhaustion, something that felt so wrong, so evil that Faramir wanted to shout and scream, but he could not. He could hear orders being given to stop the Southrons before they reached Faramir.
"Drive them back! Drive them back!" Faramir heard. "Eldor, get that unmanned horse back to the city. Ride hard!" Someone was leaning over him, but he could see nothing. Whoever it was pressed a hand to his forehead and pulled the arrow out of him. From there, Faramir knew no more of the waking world, for his visions were of blackest nightmares.
"Imrahil, get him back inside," Gandalf said. "I will manage this enough to get the rest of these men out of here." Again holding aloft his white staff, Gandalf drove back the Nazgûl and a good number of orcs gave way a bit as well.
Imrahil did not need to be told once, let alone twice, and he immediately made for the city, his lost nephew cradled before him. Finally, he made it inside the gates. Up ahead there was a horse bearing an unconscious burden and one of his knights was tending Eldor, who was clearly suffering as well.
"He is struck, sir," said the young knight, referring to his comrade-at-arms Eldor.
"This day is gone ill indeed," Imrahil lamented. "Who is the rider?"
"I know him not, sir, a Ranger by the look of his uniform, though never have I seen a cloak such as his."
"Get them both to the Houses of Healing, quickly," Imrahil sighed. He had dearly hoped that Faramir had been bearing back his half-brother. Clutching Faramir a little tighter to him, Imrahil rode up to the Citadel, unsure of why he bore Faramir there first. Perhaps he had meant to berate his brother-in-law for such a brainless maneuver, with Faramir as proof. He had hoped that Denethor would come to see what he did already, that this man was the son of Finduilas and she loved him so greatly that she sent him away to where he would grow up happy. He had loved his sister more than anything and if Denethor had ever really cared for her as he claimed, he would want to see a beloved child of hers cared for as well.
It shocked Imrahil when Denethor came out from the Tower weeping and asked that Faramir be given to him. Perhaps the old buzzard had finally come to his senses after all. A fine time for it too, Imrahil thought. That hope was dashed when Denethor went immediately back into the Tower and refused to come out. Though he hated to have to leave his lost nephew when he had just "met" him, he knew he had to return to the field. He hated the thought, but he knew he had to trust Denethor to get Faramir the proper care. In the meantime, Gandalf had no hesitation about taking charge of the City with Imrahil by his side. If the Steward would not lead, someone had to.
ooo
linda: Faramir does seem to be a bit more stubborn than usual. Must come from growing up around Elrond and Erestor. Moreover, he is just not afraid of Denethor. Now Aragorn's health is looking improved, but both Boromir and Faramir are jeopardized. I have gone this far AU already... one has to wonder just how much farther i will go.
Elenhin: I just love writing in surprises,so i will probably explain more about Boromir's will later. It remains to be seen if he will need it, of course.For now i must get on with cleaning up a bit and recovering fromthis year'sFestival, but hopefully i will get some more written this evening. The action will probably get going fast from here.