The ride back to Minas Tirith took considerably longer. Boromir was, of course, at the fore, but his riding was not at its best. Ordinarily he could have moved a little more gracefully even with his brother balanced in front of him, but now his ankle was demanding that it be paid attention to, whether Boromir liked to or not. It made for uncomfortable and slow riding.
On the charge out, he was able to do as he always had, ignore the pain and go charging off. It was familiar territory for him and it was what he excelled at. Now, though, the enduring rush of a fight subsiding left nothing but for the pain to take its place. It wasn't just the pain in his ankle that was bothering him though, but the realization that he could have lost his brother so easily.
It wasn't as though there hadn't been situations that were exceedingly more dangerous for them both, in fact this had proved to be more like an exercise mission than anything else. It was just that this time it came home to him that the situation didn't have to be especially precarious for something to go wrong, and now he held tightly to Faramir, wishing he'd wake up and wondering how bad was the blow that had knocked him out. More than once one of his captains would offer to bear Faramir for a while, but Boromir declined.
It just made no sense to Boromir why his little brother, who was infinitely more sensible than he was, went dashing off toward an enemy force unarmed and alone, after dismissing the guards. Perhaps, Boromir thought, spending too much time in the library had finally done Fara's head in.
It wasn't until they had reached the city and had the provisional gates closed behind them that Boromir allowed Beregond to take Faramir on ahead to the Houses of Healing. "And have them get him into a double room," Boromir said in something of a growl because he could not speak elsewise through the pain, "I'll be joining him shortly." One of Boromir's men offered to aid his Lord out of the saddle, knowing how he must be hurting, but Boromir refused to. He knew too well that the moment he no longer had a huge horse holding him up he would crumple to the ground immediately.
Boromir then turned toward those who were guarding the one-handed prisoner. There was little that he could see of him even with the city lights around them. The Captain-General was well aware that he needed to keep his ire in check. It would be so easy to kill the prisoner then and there, it would have been even easier to kill him when he took his hand off, but being around Faramir so much had rubbed off a bit of Boromir. He felt absolutely no understanding for the enemy the way Faramir seemed to be able to do, rather Boromir had decided to spare the leader simply because he wanted answers. He'd decided that it was better to be informed of threats from the threat itself.
"Lock him up directly," Boromir growled again. "Someone get him a healer, but bring the healer to the prisoner. Keep him alive and coherent until I can talk to him."
The orders were carried out without delay and Boromir waited until the prisoner was out of sight before leaning low in saddle and taking a tight grip of his horse's mane, his exhaustion and agony obvious. He could not even nudge the horse's flanks to signal him to move onward and his second took the reigns to lead the horse up to the sixth level where Boromir was helped down and was completely unable to bear his own weight.
Had Boromir not been so exhausted he would have been in a terror of a mood and shouting at nurses who were doing nothing wrong, nor even anything to cause him further discomfort. Injured Boromir rarely had any concept of what he was really saying and would apologize profusely afterward, of course, but not before more than one nurse had been reduced to tears and refused to do anything to treat him further.
Now, though, Boromir lay silently fuming that not just once, but twice that night he'd just had to care so much about his little brother that he'd really taken a set-back on that damnable ankle of his. Every so often he'd glance over to the bed beside his to see if Faramir had come around yet, but alas, he was probably still having pleasant dreams of gadding about Rivendell as a lad or something to that effect. Much like the dreams Boromir himself often had of his youth in Dol Amroth.
Of course, he wasn't about to say so, but he was starting to get worried about Faramir, and the longer he was out for the count, the more words Boromir intended to have with him when he woke, likewise the more "words" he intended to have with that prisoner as soon as he regained use of his leg.
Eventually, though, exhaustion had it's way with Boromir and he fell asleep, only to be wakened a few hours later at dawn by a persistent cawing from outside on the window ledge. Mithrellas had come in to check on both of the brothers and Boromir's greeting to her was "get that bloody bird away from here!"
"Good morn' to you as well, little sandpiper," Mithrellas said with a tone that told Boromir that she was extremely annoyed with him for charging off in the middle of the night with an injury as he did, and yet her smile told him that she could not be more proud of him. She went to open the window to shoo away the bird, only apparently it was taken as an invitation and the feathered visitor flapped in and perched himself atop the headboard of the bed Faramir was still asleep in.
Boromir was about to throw whatever was in reach at the big, black crow, but Mithrellas stayed him, being more intuitive about these things. Besides, the last thing Faramir needed was for his brother to miss and strike his head instead.
"I do not want that filthy bird in here," Boromir began to protest, but the crow began to protest in his own language as though it took great umbrage at the term "filthy bird." The bird calmed immediately when Faramir began to stir.
"Carach?" Faramir mumbled, seemingly incoherently. The bird cawed unmistakably in response. Faramir's head ached and he decided against opening his eyes right away. The last thing he remembered was an unpleasant group of men rushing him and then that blow to his head…. Perhaps it was best to use other senses at the moment, Faramir figured, and noted that he was in a rather comfortable place, ostensibly a bed since he could tell there was a pillow under that mass of pain that he reckoned was still his head. He was completely unhindered by restraints also, but that just didn't stand to reason. He sensed the presence of others nearby, a Ranger always knew when he had company.
For a moment Boromir just looked as his brother shifted slightly, as if testing out his surroundings, but refused to open his eyes. And what was that he'd murmured, why was that familiar sounding? Dunland! It was all coming together, thought Boromir. Those crows that had fairly attacked the Fellowship were called crebain and said to be from Dunland, and spies of Saruman. That one-handed prisoner currently waiting for Boromir's interrogation was a Dunlending. That was all Boromir needed to know, that bird was as good as carrion if he had anything to say about it.
"Faramir," he said, by way of greeting, "move aside so I can kill that bird." Not that he was entirely sure that Faramir was lucid enough to understand him, but it was sort of his way of finding out. The crow began to flap and squawk at Boromir, it certainly understood well enough!
"Boromir?" Faramir was entirely perplexed now and chanced to open his eyes very slightly, knowing that the light would cause a veritable explosion in his head. This was a healing room in Minas Tirith, sure enough, but how had he gotten here? How had Boromir gotten here? And why was his crow here?
"Good, you can hear me," Boromir said, "now move so I can kill that bird without hitting you."
Faramir tried to pull himself up a bit, but it made him rather dizzy. Instead he just reached his hand up, allowing the crow to perch on his fingers. He held the corvid close and stroked at its silky black plumage. Now dizzy as well as confused, Faramir spoke quietly. "What happened? How did Carach get here?"
Boromir looked at Faramir as though he was mad. Was he actually petting that thing? The wretched traitors must have knocked the sense completely out of his little brother. "That thing flew in the window. Now, Faramir, please move so that it can be eliminated."
"What do you mean?" Faramir kept his eyes mostly shut, but shifted to lay so that he could see Boromir. "What happened?" he asked when he saw that his brother was not there as a visitor, but also a patient.
"Faramir, you are confused, just get away from the bird," Boromir insisted.
"Why? Carach must have found me for a reason. Boromir, tell me what happened." Although he'd admit that he was confused, Faramir knew that he was not mentally weakened as his brother seemed to think. And why ever did Boromir seem to have something against Carach?
"What happened! You went out to say good evening to an enemy, alone, and utterly unarmed," Boromir said, his voice raising a good bit. He was plainly working himself up to a good shout.
Faramir decided that that wouldn't do, not in the Houses of Healing. "Boromir, it wasn't an enemy. I mean, I didn't think it was. I don't know who it was, but they knew me, they knew my family. What happened?"
Boromir was getting frustrated with his little brother asking that same question again and again. "Why don't you tell me that? I am the one who deserves an explanation from you!"
Faramir now did close his eyes, he could just imagine Ioreth coming in any moment to berate them both about conduct in her wing. Boromir was right though, Faramir did owe him an explanation. "I went out to the balustrade and saw a rather small group out by the edge of the Greywood," he said. "Your second had guards at every gate and a battalion of archers lined up, but he did not know who it was approaching. They bore light, but seemed to remain by the wood, as if they would not come to the City in the night. There was something strange about the light, though. It was muted and seemed to glow, as if not from a torch. That is how they knew they would fool me. From Minas Tirith they looked like Eldarim, and that message I'd received seemed to back it up. Only now do I realize why the hand of it was strange to me and seemed to be written in a rush."
It took Boromir a few moments to comprehend what Faramir was saying. "You mean that they made you think that they were Elves…. Then they could only have been after you. And why is that bloody bird still here!"
"Yes, only me. But I still do not know why, or how they knew that I was raised in Imladris. How would anyone from Dunland know anything of me?"
"Probably through that bird!" Boromir cried. "The bloody things are spies for the evil wizard and according to what I have heard, said wizard has practically enthralled the population of Dunland to have them fight against Rohan for him."
Faramir shook his head, before he realized that such an action would hurt, and continued to smooth the feathers of the crow still perched almost defensively on his hand. "Carach is not a spy, Bor'. He's been with me in Ithilien since he was a fledgling."
"Fine, so he's a double agent. What's the difference? Kill it!"
Carach flapped and cawed unhappily at Boromir, and Faramir chuckled. "He says that if you say that one more time he's going to peck your eyes out. He doesn't think you are extraordinarily intelligent and doesn't know why I have spoken so well of you."
"Oh, doesn't he? How, by chance, would you know what he is saying?"
"We communicate. I tried to tell you that, he's been my guide for years now. He's helped us avoid some quite nasty run-ins out there," Faramir explained.
"You talk to crows?" Boromir said disbelievingly.
"Not entirely. He talks more to me than I do to him. He understands some Westron, more Sindarin, and can speak a few words of both, but still thinks people-language is unnecessarily verbose. And yet he can spend days in Fangorn listening to -"
"How do you understand what he says, Faramir?" Boromir interjected. "I know you were raised by Elves and all, but you are still one of us. Next you'll be telling me you talk to trees!"
"Well, not to them, but I do have an idea of what -" Faramir abandoned that train of thought when he saw the perturbed look on his brother's face. "Crows have a very clear and specific language, though it is simpler in it's meanings than human speech. Erestor taught me how to listen to their conversations and I was fascinated, so I began to learn what they meant. I could never understand as well as some Elves do, but I can understand them."
"You are absolutely certain that that bird is not and has never been a spy for an enemy?" Boromir asked somewhat dubiously.
"Perfectly sure of it," Faramir said, the dizziness beginning to wear off. "Furthermore, had you paid any attention, you would know that the crebain of Dunland are in fact Northwestern crows. Carach, as you can see, is not."
"You are a true riddle little brother," Boromir said shaking his head.
"As you say, but will you finally tell me what happened here? Why in the name of the Valar are you here too? If you tell me that you insisted someone help you down here, on that bad ankle, just because you were concerned about me, I might not speak to you again. Do you not know that rest is the great healer?"
"Faramir," Boromir began indignantly, "do you honestly think that I would have come to this place just because you took a bump on the head!"
"Yes," Faramir smiled ironically. "I know you too well."
"Well you are wrong then. Of course I would not have done that. Do you honestly take me for soft? If I were to do anything, I would have saddled up and lead a party out to Grey Wood to kill the heathens and bring you back here. Naturally."
Faramir glared dangerously at Boromir for a long while and Boromir held his gaze steadily, proving to Faramir that he had in fact done so and would do so again if ever the situation warranted it. Faramir desperately wanted to tell his brother off about that bit of foolishness, but he realized that he had no right at the moment to be criticizing anyone for imprudence. And, truthfully, Faramir couldn't help the smile that crept across his lips when he realized that he owed his brother his life, and that Boromir would never consider it a debt. "Thank you, Boromir," he said quietly.
"Do not thank me! You do not know how much pain I am in now for it. Anyway, I swore to your father I'd keep you safe, not about to break my word to the King, now am I? You've always dragged me out of worse, so I owed it to you." Leave it to Boromir to downplay what he'd done. "Speaking of your 'ada'," he said gesturing toward the night stand, "someone brought that letter there just after I came in last night. Best make sure you know who really sent it this time. Ask that bird maybe."
Carach only gave a mild caw, as if still indignant but now also seeing that Boromir was worthy of his reputation of honor. "Ada is sending a 'delegation,'" Faramir said mildly confused, "to help us with an important decision." Faramir had no idea what his father could mean, perhaps he had his own input regarding the nightmare that the planning of the coronation was turning out to be. Faramir had a frightened thought… what if this delegation included his twin uncles? He didn't think he could handle them loose in Minas Tirith at the moment and whoever it was would be due to arrival later that night.
Boromir had another thought. "Whomever he wants to delegate had best be soft and beautiful!"
Mithrellas had decided to send her own delegate to check on Faramir. Though he felt perfectly fine, and ordinarily would have insisted on being allowed to get up and get to work, the delegate Mithrellas sent was one that Faramir did not wish to argue with. Mostly because he knew he would never win, but also because he had to admit that he wanted to be in her company as much as possible.
Boromir made it a point to roll over whenever Eowyn came in the room (he could only do so because he had been given a tea that effectively numbed the pain in his ankle, thus making him at least somewhat sufferable again). He lay there eavesdropping for a few moments before he got completely bored of listening to their sickly sweet discussion and decided to pretend to fall asleep, snoring loudly. It was just about then that Carach flew back in through the open window, perching upon Faramir's headboard and startling Eowyn.
Boromir could swear that bird was actually chuckling! He was proved right whenever Eowyn left again and Faramir said to the crow, "I cannot believe you would take his side!"