"Mumma…." The man moaned, waking to a degree but still very dazed. Someone was next to him, he could not quite make out whom, but he got the sense that it was his mother.
"Easy," soothed a woman's gentle voice. "Drink up now, you will feel better."
Boromir felt a cup being pressed into his hand and was able to hold it, but he did not bring it to his lips. He felt too weak to sit upright under his own power and his mind felt so strangely blurred.
"You need to drink," the woman persisted. She moved closer, hugging him to her and lifting him as he put to cup to his lips and tipped it. Now that he was awake, he was able to take drink and eat if with assistance and she immediately called for whatever could be spared. A young lad came in and gave her a handful of berries. "Bergil," she said in surprise, "are you certain these can be spared?"
The boy nodded and said, "Yes, Lady Mithrellas. There are still many needing help, but… too few can take any sustenance. I was told to give these only to men who…."
"Aye, I know, lad," she said softly. "I daresay his Lordship will be able to return to his own chambers soon, a better way of clearing space for another wounded man than the other way."
The Houses of Healing were becoming lately and quickly less Houses of Healing as much as Houses of Dying. Many a man was brought to them out of the vain hope of a terrified brother or son, sister or mother. Healers and nurses had no real idea what was going on beyond their walls, when someone was brought to them the only thing that was important was the patient's condition. They had heard that the city was under heavy siege and being, literally, broken bit by bit. Many women were being brought to them for injuries sustained from falling walls and such. More than one expectant mother was in premature labor induced by sheer terror. All was in chaos.
Mithrellas was "assigned" to take care of Boromir. Had it been anyone else she would have protested vehemently that rank no longer mattered and there were many others who needed the care of a knowledgeable nurse. Never had she been able to see her best friend's son as merely his rank or title though. Mithrellas remembered holding her friend's newborn boy before he was taken to his father; it had not been so many years before that she had lost a child that she had carried. She remembered returning to Minas Tirith from Dol Amroth after her father's death and being greeted by a miniature soldier of Gondor of four years. She remembered the little one clinging to her skirts for dear life when she took him to the Houses of Healing when Finduilas gave birth for a second time. She remembered watching the happy young boy playing on the beach with his uncle, gradually growing into a young man, fun-loving and handsome, and training with his uncle's men. Mithrellas felt like it was her own son leaving the day Boromir decided he would return to Minas Tirith.
Ever since losing her own child Mithrellas had a tendency to be sharp-tongued with those who she perceived as acting in a superior manner. It had not been much of a problem in Dol Amorth, but she and Denethor had clashed constantly. If she had not been dear to Finduilas she would have likely ended up exiled from Minas Tirith, or more. Mithrellas still firmly believed that her father had forced the hand of the physician who was looking after her pregnancy into giving her a strong dosage of pennyroyal before her condition became too noticeable, though it had very nearly killed her as well. Falas, Imrahil's herald, had even been courageous enough to go to her father and explain that he had intended to ask him for her hand all along and had no notion of turning coward now, but he had been refused her hand, as well as any further contact with her.
Much had changed for all involved when they returned to Dol Amroth in Boromir's fifth year. Her father was gone, she was reunited with Falas, and she allowed her heart to once again soften and heal. The real turning point came, though, when both Finduilas and Falas had died within two years time. Boromir was ten years old when his mother died, old enough to be expected to bear up, but too young really to be able to do so, and many nights Mithrellas held him as the boy cried himself to sleep. She held him then just as she did now, brushing stray hair back from his paled features, and kissing the temple of one too young for such terror, or so 70 years of life had made her think.
"Mumma 'Rell," Boromir said in a weak voice, drawing her attention back. "What happened to me? Where am i?"
"We are in the Houses of Healing, child. I think, though, now that you are awake, you should be taken to your own chambers. It will be safer there and we need more space here."
"Why do I feel so strange, so restless and weak?" Boromir asked.
"Keep drinking, Bori', you were without water for some days," Mithrellas explained and instructed at once.
"Done without before…," he muttered ineffectively.
Mithrellas called Bergil again and together they helped the soldier to his feet and went to the street, looking out cautiously and calling softly for the gates of the Citadel to be opened. Boromir was still weak and dazed and it took both the woman and the boy to support his weight and get him to move as quickly as possible to the tunnel. They took their time from there and when they emerged, a couple of Guards came to help. Bergil was sent back to the Houses while Mithrellas went with Boromir to get him settled into his chambers and make sure he would have someone to keep him drinking, frequently, now that he was conscious. As they crossed the lawn by the fountain, she chanced a look back over the Pelennor and dearly wished she had not. It was filled with the black filth of Mordor. Smoke was rising from down toward the Silent Street. She feared that even the Citadel would not be a safe place in this terrible war, but just then, she saw horses, riders, coming over the northeast ridge. The green banners of Rohan were evident and she was again filled with hope, hurrying on with the Guards towards Boromir's chambers.
ooo
It was only a moment after Mithrellas and Bergil had gotten Boromir beyond the Citadel gates that Gandalf and Beregond came to the Houses, bearing Faramir between them. Beds in the Houses were being reserved for those most seriously ill and Faramir was taken to one right away. A nurse stood before the door to the room insisting that they could not bring a man into that room, even though the other nurses of the House were less than worried about the traditionally off-limits birthing chambers being converted for soldiers.
"My lady," Gandalf said, seriously beginning to lose his patience, "is there a woman giving birth in there at this moment?"
"No, sir, but -"
"Then stand aside!" Gandalf practically shouted, causing the woman to jump. She, indeed, moved off quickly enough. "I regret deeply, Faramir, that I shall have to leave you in the care of these people for now, but the battle must be joined and I should have been out on that field some time ago." Gandalf knew that his old friend's son could not hear him, but he needed to vent that frustration anyway. "Come, Beregond."
As soon as Mithrellas returned to the Houses she set back to work. Within just a few moments, Bergil found her, telling her that his father had brought in a soldier who was seriously ill. She went with the boy and started out by getting him cleaned up as much as she could. He was running a terrible fever and she set a cold cloth on his forehead as she worked. The young man was covered in some kind of oily substance and she had no desire to know what that meant. "Do we know this one's name?" Mithrellas asked Bergil. She made it a point to try to know the names of the soldiers she cared for, it was a small courtesy and, hopefully, a comfort to them that she could call them by their names when, if, they woke.
"Master Gandalf called him Faramir, my lady, and I think my father knew him," Bergil replied.
Mithrellas dropped the cloth in her hand and stood still, her eyes and mouth wide. Oh, she saw it now, just how alike this man looked to Boromir, to Finduilas… to Thorongil, if memory served her right.
"Are you all right," Bergil asked in concern for the aging lady.
"Aye, child, aye," she said very softly, resuming her work. "After all these years…" she breathed in amazement.
ooo
The day had been long, arduous, and agonizing for everyone. Aragorn looked around him… this was what he was suppose to inherit? He picked his way around orc carcasses and the fallen dead of his own kin. He had heard that Théoden had fallen and, unfortunately, had seen Halbarad go down with his own eyes. How many others would he never seen again? He tried to keep from looking too long at the fallen around him; he was trying to get toward the Gates where everyone else was grouping.
Someone had the decency to begin setting up a pavilion outside the city and Aragorn was immensely thankful. He needed counsel with Gandalf and whoever else remained of his companions and then he needed sleep. Had Aragorn not stolen that several hours nap as the sailed up the Anduin the day before he would not have been able to talk to them at all. As it was, it was his only hope that he could just lay down and sleep the rest of the night, let Denethor invite him in on the morrow, if he did not recognize him at once.
Imrahil agreed with Aragorn that it would be wisest to wait until Denethor had extended the invitation, as he knew how Denethor had hated Thorongil so. Éomer, however, could not understand that Aragorn, who he knew had already made the decision to take up his birthright, would rather wait until a lesser man acknowledged him. However, Aragorn knew the cautious route needed to be taken until the War was won, not just the battle.
Éomer turned away from him in frustration, trying to keep his cool but having a very difficult time of it. The afternoon had gone particularly ill for him. He had lost his uncle and King and his sister, though he would not speak of this, for he knew that others had suffered losses as well. Imrahil decided to stay by Éomer and engage him in something useful: he intended to introduce him to the Steward of Gondor and together they would announce a "Captain of the Rangers" who awaited without the Gates.
In the meantime, Aragorn took from his brow the Star of the North Kingdom and gave it back into the keeping of Elrohir, who was still shaken and afraid, for he had not seen his mirror image since midday. Aragorn had just lain down to rest his weary head, arms, legs, everything, in short, when who was suddenly standing over him but the wily old Wizard who Aragorn had threatened to seriously injure since he had not caught sight of the old codger on the battlefield for even a moment that day.
"And where, if I may ask, have you been this day, of all days?" Aragorn asked with not a small amount of bitterness in his tone.
"Saving your son's life, which, may I add, is still suspended by just the merest of threads," Gandalf replied meaningfully.
"Faramir?" Aragorn said alarmed, on his feet again in a flash. Only just then had he realized that he had not seen Faramir at all that day either. "Where is my son?"
"In the Houses of Healing, and we must go quickly, for there are others in need of your hand, but Faramir's need is most urgent," Gandalf said tossing Aragorn's Lórien cloak at him.
Gandalf explained to Aragorn in quiet tone as they went what had happened at the Hallows. Had he not been in terror for his precious son's life, Aragorn knew he would have had to been restrained from relieving the Steward of his corrupted heart with his bare hands, and he said as much to Gandalf, mostly as a warning to keep him steered clear.
"In case you did not hear me, Estel, I told you that Denethor put himself upon the pyre when Beregond stopped him going after your son," Gandalf reiterated.
"Aye, but… well, I presumed he'd been pulled away before…." Aragorn realized that Denethor had ended his own life in the Hallows. "I wish I could say that that news grieves me. It does not. If my son does not survive…."
"Estel, you might also wish to know that now that Denethor is gone, some are calling Faramir the Steward. Boromir's last written word left Faramir as his heir; it was dated the day before they set out for Imladris. It may also be of interest to you that Boromir was not departed when he departed you at Amon Hen."
Well, that confirmed it to Aragorn, Denethor's madness was catching and here was Gandalf as proof. "Boromir was most assuredly not living, Gandalf. The man had no pulse; do think I would not have checked? And what is this about Faramir being called Steward?"
"His pulse was made dangerously faint by the poison of orc's arrows, there is no blame in your action," Gandalf explained. "He was alive and with Faramir when he came to Osgiliath, but somehow he fell behind as they were coming back to the City and has not been seen since. Now then, if you promise not to interrupt me again, I shall tell you that Faramir indeed delivered the Ring back into its proper bearer's hands."
"Maybe, just maybe, you could have somehow, someway imparted this to me sooner?" Aragorn said in relief, but also annoyance. Outside the Houses they were met by Imrahil and Éomer and Aragorn was glad that neither immediately recognized him for his cloak. He asked Imrahil to take command of the City until Faramir was able to, though Aragorn still could not believe that Boromir had actually willed his inheritance to him. It was agreed, however, among the four of them that Gandalf would ultimately be the leader of them all.
Before walking into the Houses, Aragorn glanced up into the sky, which was filled with stars for the first time in days. "Le nallon sí di-nguruthos, a tiro nin, Fanuilos!" he begged.
ooo
Le nallon sí di-nguruthos, a tiro nin, Fanuilos - I cry to thee nowbeneath the shadow of death, o look toward me, Fanuilos (literally Everwhite, aka Elbereth)
linda: Thank you, i was hoping that Denethor's mad raving would be interesting.
Elenhin: Yes, i did find Boromir, but not everyone else has yet. Right now he is doing pretty well, considering, but much remains to be seen. Eldor did return and a few others should be making themselves known again next chapter. Did you get a chance to check out the skies on Friday night? I had a great time of it, remind me to tell you all about it.
AM: As i said to linda, i did hope that inside look at Denethor would be interesting. Writing madness can be pretty fun :)
Coming up next iseveryone's favorite Houses of Healing scene. I have written this scene a few times now. I don't want to change it, per se, but it is not easy to write it in mainly book-verse every time. Ah, i shall have to come with something to hold everyone's attention though :)