Henvain had found himself facing many dangers lately, but today, he found himself curiously more nervous than ever before.
It was very foolish, he chided himself as he walked down the bright hallway leading to the Steward's Quarters, careful not to stride too closely to the guardsman who went before him, leading the way. It wasn't as if he'd never been in the Citadel before, or that he was in any trouble. There was nothing foreboding in the air; it was a beautiful, sunny autumn morning, one of the nicest to dawn since he'd returned to Gondor a month ago.
He certainly had no reason to fear for his health, either, as he was fully healed, with only a twinge or two now and then. He hadn't needed the cane for weeks, he mused as he firmly matched the soldier step for step. Oh, there would always be the scars, and the healers had said his knee would always ache in the damp or cold. But he could bear such things easily, in return for being able to don his uniform again and go back to his old life.
Well, he thought as he gazed at the fine tapestries on the walls without really seeing them, that wasn't really true, he'd found. His old life wasn't where he'd left it all that time ago, when he'd gone to Mordor with Lord Faramir and Lord Legolas. Things were different now, and he still didn't know if that was all good or bad, or a mix of the two. But he wasn't too anxious about that, either; like everything else, he figured it would all get straightened out somehow.
No, he decided as he followed the guardsman up a finely polished set of stone stairs as old as the City itself, he was nervous because today he had been summoned to visit Lord Faramir. He'd been anticipating this for a long time, had often wanted to speak to the Captain again, but today was his first chance since they'd parted on the road in Mordor two months ago.
What was he going to say, to someone who'd suffered so much, and been far braver than Henvain could ever hope to be?
Henvain's mind flew back to the recent past. He never got to see Lord Faramir after they'd found him, but he'd heard the stories, and had little doubt that they were all true. On the day the Steward returned to the City, Henvain had been among the crowd to see the procession. It had been a grand sight, with the Kings Elessar and Eomer riding up front, but the one the people truly wanted to see was Lord Faramir.
Henvain, being on the short side and caught behind some taller folk, hadn't seen much. Through the canvas opening of the covered wagon he'd glimpsed a pale figure in bandages and a linen shirt, and that was all.
Since that day, everyone in the City talked of Lord Faramir's progress, and Henvain had little trouble keeping up. There was news of his condition-he was still weak and healing, but he would live-the daily treatments by the King himself, as well as Lord Legolas, and the day he was well enough to be moved to the Steward's Quarters a while was greeted with much relief throughout every level. There was even talk that he'd been taking medicines offered by the Haradrim, and Henvain couldn't help smiling at the memory of the consternation caused by /that/ news.
The King had also been seen visiting the Steward's chambers in the early night hours as well, Henvain recalled as they climbed the stairs. His heart twinged with sympathy, wondering if perhaps Lord Faramir had been having nightmares, and the King was helping him with those, too. He'd had some awful ones, himself, for a while after the battle, and what the Steward had endured would give any man foul dreams for a lifetime. But if the King was helping him along with that, surely, he would be all right; Elessar had proven he knew a thing or two about healing, by now.
They topped the stairs and entered a long hallway, and Henvain found himself growing even more unsettled as he saw the large wooden door at the end that had to be where Lord Faramir was.
He swallowed, concerned that he was about to make an idiot of himself. He wasn't one for knowing the proper behavior at such times, and what could he say to Lord Faramir after all he'd been through that wouldn't sound plain foolish? He was relieved beyond words that the Steward was recovering, but so was everyone. He could offer sympathy for his suffering, but what did he-or anyone-know of the sort of horrors Lord Faramir had endured?
There was another, deeper worry gnawing at him as well. He'd heard of some men who'd survived being captives of the Orcs, had even seen a few, and the experience had scarred them forever. Some went mad; others became violent, or grew to be complete strangers to those they loved. He didn't want to think of Lord Faramir that way. The Steward was such a good man; it would be a tragedy if this had somehow stolen the kind nature that Henvain had seen in him when they were traveling together.
A grim image flashed through Henvain's mind, of Lord Faramir wasting away in a chair like some of the men he'd heard about, his mind forever crippled, the hopeful light that had been in his eyes gone for good. He shuddered; if that was what was he would see this morning, he wasn't sure he could bear it.
They drew closer to the end of the hall, and Henvain sighed and braced himself.
The guardsman knocked on the door.
After a moment, the door was pulled open, and Lady Eowyn stood before them, resplendent in a light blue morning gown, her golden hair flowing about her shoulders. At the sight of Henvain, she smiled brightly.
He bowed, figuring it best to stay silent until a coherent thought could be formed in his head.
"Lieutenant Henvain to see Lord Faramir, milady," the guardsman announced, before stepping aside. In an instant, he was walking back down the hall to his post, and Eowyn was motioning Henvain to enter the chambers.
"Good morning, Lieutenant," she said pleasantly as he entered. "I am so glad you could come. Lord Faramir has been anxious to see you again."
Henvain nodded, praying he wouldn't trip on anything. "Thank you, and good morning to you, milady," he said in his best formal voice as he walked into the rooms. They were larger and more opulent than anything he'd ever seen besides the Throne Room, and flooded with sunlight. "Is Lord Faramir, um, resting well?"
"Very well," she answered, as they began to walk towards the back of the apartments. "I do not believe any medicine has been half so effective as the chance to sleep in his own bed once more. Lord Legolas is with him now."
He stopped walking, feeling suddenly awkward. "If I should come back at another time, milady-"
But she laughed a little and gently took his arm. "Have no fear, Lieutenant-they have both been eagerly awaiting you. Come!"
Henvain dared not argue with the White Lady of Rohan, so he consented to follow her until they arrived at last in the farthest room of the apartments.
It was a very large bed-chamber, as flooded with sunlight as the rest of the place. As Henvain entered, he at once noticed the delicate fragrance of flowers filling the room. Then he saw that the far end of the room opened into a garden, and its doorway was flanked by a trellis on both sides, their slats heavily entwined with roses.
Set against the western wall of the room beneath a wide open window was a large bed, and in this bed reclined Lord Faramir, lying back against several large pillows. Lord Legolas sat at the bedside, reading aloud from some large book. Directly next to the bed was a table, piled with several more books, maps, and scrolls.
At the entrance of Eowyn and Henvain both men turned to look at them, expectant smiles upon both of their faces.
Henvain looked closely at Faramir, and was gratified to find the Steward looking better than he'd expected, although clearly far from his normal strength. There was still a weary paleness to Faramir's face, and Henvain could make out faint, dark circles beneath his eyes. The Steward wore a loose linen nightshirt open at the throat; through it, the healing lines of a few scars were still visible on his skin, and Henvain could see the edges of a bandage that had yet to be removed.
Yet Henvain recognized at once the familiar strength of spirit still burning in Faramir's eyes, the same kind, generous light that he had seen there during their journeys in Mordor. He sighed to himself, relieved; the Lord Faramir he knew had truly survived after all.
"Ah, Lieutenant!" Faramir exclaimed, delighted. His voice was firm, if not as strong as Henvain remembered it. "I had hoped you would be able to come today."
Henvain straightened himself and bowed. "Yes, sir," he said, with as much decorum as before. "Thank you for the invitation."
Legolas closed his book and rose from his seat with a smile. "You need not stand upon formalities," he said in a warm manner, "after all we three have been through together. Lord Faramir and I both owe you our lives; you are certainly among friends here."
Henvain blinked and looked at them both. The, suddenly, his anxiousness melted away, and he relaxed immediately.
"No, sir," he said with a smile, feeling the tightness flow from his shoulders. "No, sir, you're right."
The Elf tucked the book under his arm, stepped forward, and clasped Henvain on the shoulder, still smiling.
"When the time is right, we shall all three of us take a glass and toast to our mutual survival," Legolas vowed. "For now, I have made a promise to Lady Eowyn to inspect her garden, so you must excuse us."
To Henvain's surprise, the Elf bowed to him. Eowyn gently released his arm after nodding a farewell, took Legolas' elbow, and disappeared with him into the garden.
"You are looking quite well, Master Henvain," Faramir said approvingly as he lifted his hand towards the seat Legolas had vacated.
"I am, sir, thank you," said Henvain as he walked over and eased himself into the chair. "Haven't needed the cane for a while now, and most of the aches are gone. I'll be going back to my regiment in a few days."
Faramir settled back against the pillows as he looked at Henvain, the sunlight streaming over him from above. He looked very comfortable, at least, thought Henvain, even if he didn't seem up to moving very much.
"You must have found the time with your family most relaxing," the Steward commented amiably as he nestled his head into the pillows. "They were very pleased to have you home for so long, I am sure. Are they well?"
Henvain nodded. "Yes, sir," he replied. "I even enjoyed seein' my brother Turwaith again. I...I think he might have been a little jealous of me, when he heard what I've been about while he was gone. He said I'd better look out or I'd get a big head from bein' such a hero."
He couldn't help but grin at that memory; never in his life had his brother ever been envious of him for anything.
Faramir was smiling, too. "And what did you say to that, my friend?"
Henvain's smile faltered a bit. "Um-well, I told him I hadn't done it to be a hero, honestly, and not for glory or anything like that," he answered, his words becoming quiet. "Most of the time it was tiring, and frightening, and dirty, not what I'd thought it would be like. But..." He paused. "But if it happened again, I'd do it again, because it was my duty, no matter how unpleasant it was, because your life and the lives of the folks here at home depended on us gettin' back. And that was all there was to it."
For a moment Henvain ceased speaking, his expression becoming more pensive.
"After I'd said all that," he continued, "Turwaith just sort of nodded and said that was what the battle at the Black Gate was like, the one he'd gone to and I was so sorry I'd missed. And...and I think I understand now why he never seemed to see it as I did, as some grand, painless adventure that I'd been left out of. That was a hard duty, just like this was, but we both did it, because it was needed of us."
Faramir gazed proudly at him. "Spoken like a true soldier of Gondor," he said softly.
"Well..." Henvain hesitated. He probably wasn't going to say this right, but there was no help for it. "To be truthful, sir, if it hadn't been for those kind words you gave me when we were on the road, and me seeing how brave you were, fighting off them Orcs even after it was too late, I don't think I could have made it all the way home. Every time I got to thinking I couldn't go another step, that's what I thought about. It helped me keep my heart up, and...and I don't think I'll ever have the words to properly thank you for that."
He fell silent and looked up at the Steward. He hadn't been as eloquent as he'd hoped, perhaps, but Henvain felt that he'd said pretty much what he'd wanted to, as well as he could say it.
Lord Faramir, at least, appeared to be very pleased and touched, as the smile seemed to deepen on his face.
"I am honored by your words, my friend," said Faramir in a hushed voice. "You have proven through your deeds that all I said to you during our journey was the truth; you are a remarkable young man. Gondor, and myself, shall ever be in your debt."
Henvain gave a small, self-depracating laugh and shook his head. "Please, sir, don't feel in debt to me," he pleaded. "Not after all you've suffered. I didn't do anything remarkable, not like...I mean..." Curse it, this wasn't going to come out right at all. "I'm sure I could never bear up as you did, in that fortress."
There as a slight rustling as Faramir turned his head to peer at Henvain more directly, a look of quiet thoughtfulness on his face.
"I would not be so certain of that, my friend," said the Steward. "You have already shown that you are willing to bear great hardship on behalf of Gondor and her people. I pray you are never faced with such an ordeal as mine, but were it ever to befall you, I believe you would once more find yourself stronger than you suppose."
There was nothing Henvain could think of to say for a few moments. He hadn't really thought of it that way, or even considered that he could be as brave as Lord Faramir. But then, he'd have considered his recent adventure impossible as well not so long ago, so perhaps there was something to Lord Faramir's words after all.
"I hope that would be the truth, sir, if it ever came down to that," he replied with a sigh. "Thank you."
Faramir regarded him kindly. "I had great faith that you would deliver Lord Legolas safely to Minas Tirith, and alert the King to the danger that threatened the kingdom," Faramir informed him. "It was this belief that sustained me in my darkest hours; so, it seems we have helped each other. For this, I must place myself in your debt. I fear I must insist upon it." He smiled.
Henvain smiled, utterly embarrassed. "It's enough just to have you back with us, sir, it's all the reward I'd ever want," he admitted honestly.
The Steward reached for something on the table beside the bed. "It is very kind of you to speak thus, Henvain," he said, before turning back to him. "However, one of my reasons for asking you here this morning was to present you with a more tangible representation of my thanks. I hope you will accept it, as a reminder of my deep gratitude for all you have done."
With these words, he handed the object in his hands to Henvain.
It was a book, quite thick and impressive-looking, the blue leather cover rather worn about the edges. Embossed across the front in worn gold leaf was the title 'Great Battles of the Past Ages as Fought by the Armies of Gondor, with Tactical Analyses and Maps'.
Henvain felt his heart jump a little; he'd always had a fondness for battle history, and maps as well.
"Thank you, sir," he remembered to gasp, even as he pulled it open. The pages were a little worn, but clearly well-cared for. The maps were beautifully drawn, detailing every major battle fought by Gondor in the past two thousand years. This was an expensive book, something only those in the higher military ranks would have, and he could scarcely believe that he was now the owner of such a fine object.
"I hoped you would find it interesting," was Faramir's pleased reply. "I've written a commendation on your behalf to your commander, and recommended you be considered for a promotion in rank, if you are agreeable."
Henvain lifted his eyes to stare at Faramir in surprise. "Sir, I-" He paused. "I feel I've been saying 'thank you' too much to you today, but nothing else seems right."
Faramir laughed a little. "That is no matter, Henvain," he assured him. "You are most welcome. The path to the Captaincy is not easy, but I feel you are suited for it. The information in that book will help you prepare for the trials; you have the ability to master it, I am sure."
Henvain smiled, still engrossed in the pages. On nearly every one there were several handwritten notes in ink in the margins, and along the edges of the maps as well, revealing the writer's thoughts on the subject being discussed.
"You seem to have had quite a few ideas of your own here, sir," Henvain observed with a chuckle.
He heard Faramir laugh again. "I did indeed, when that book came to me, but the writing you see there is not mine," he explained. "That volume originally belonged to my brother, Lord Boromir."
This new surprise almost caused Henvain to drop the book. He glanced up, his eyes slightly widened. Lord Boromir was nearly a legend among the soldiers; never did Henvain imagine he would even touch something that belonged to the beloved Captain, let alone own it.
"But, sir," gasped Henvain, hoping he'd sound halfway coherent, "don't...don't you want to keep this, as it belonged to him?" It seemed an impertinent question, but Henvain knew, as all the soldiers did, how close the two brothers had been.
Faramir was regarding him with a wistful, sad smile. "Indeed I do, Henvain, but I desire more for you to have it," he replied. "Were he here, I am certain Boromir would want to reward you for saving my life. My brother placed a high value on the merits of bravery and leadership. I do not think he would know of a more suitable gift to you, than a chance to use this book to nourish your skills and place them in the service of the land we all love."
Henvain blinked and looked down at the book again. His hands were shaking a little now. Then he slowly closed it and lifted his head again, a resolute expression on his face as he considered how truly valuable this gift was.
"Thank you, sir," said Henvain quietly. "I'll put this to the best use I can, I swear."
"I have no doubt of it," Faramir stated, still smiling. "Boromir would also treat you to an ale, but that will have to wait, I fear. For now, come! Tell me of your family, and how you have passed the weeks since your return."
Henvain complied, and they spent the rest of the morning in a most pleasant fashion. It came as a surprise to Henvain when Lady Eowyn and Lord Legolas returned from the garden and announced that the time for the noonday meal had come; he hadn't realized so much time had gone by.
"I shall have to ask your leave, then, sir," said Henvain as he stood, the book in one hand. "I've got to get to the armory, and you have important things to tend to as well, I'm sure."
Faramir smiled. "Important, perhaps, but none will be as pleasant as speaking with you this day," he remarked, giving a nod of farewell. "Thank you for coming, Lieutenant, I have greatly enjoyed our visit. We shall speak again soon; I believe, at the very least, I owe you an ale."
A grin came to Henvain's face at the thought. he was looking forward to it already. "Yes, sir. Well, good day!"
He bowed to the Lords Faramir and Legolas, then turned and followed Lady Eowyn to the door, thinking how odd it all was. When he arrived he didn't want to even cross the threshold, and now he was sorry to have to go.
"You have my gratitude as well, Lieutenant, for all you have done for us both," said the Lady fondly as she opened the door for him. "You will always be welcome here."
Henvain paused at the door and bowed to her. "Thank you, milady," he said sincerely. "I hope you both have a pleasant day. Farewell!"
He nodded to her, smiled at the bow she gave in return, and sped through the opened door quickly before he said anything foolish.
The walk back outside went past in something of a blur, as his mind tried to work through all he had seen and said that morning. It well very well, he thought, and he felt very encouraged to see Lord Faramir so healthy, even if he was still pale and tired. Perhaps next time Henvain would even see him up and walking.
Then Henvain marveled that there would indeed be a next time. He had a standing invitation to visit the Steward of Gondor! It was enough to make one's head spin.
Soon he found himself stepping out into the sunlit Fountain Courtyard. He walked quickly down the stone stairs, flipping through the book in his hand, when a voice caused him to halt and raise his head.
"There you are! Did the King invite you to tea or something?"
It was Faelor, walking across the courtyard to meet him, clad in his Captain's armor with his cloak flowing behind him. He was wearing a large grin on his face.
Henvain closed the book and went forward to meet him, grinning himself as he swaggered a bit.
"Oh, well, you know, I'm moving into all the upper circles these days," he replied lightly.
Faelor laughed. "Maybe if you move fast enough, they won't catch you," was his answer as they met. "Did you see Lord Faramir? How is he?"
"I did, and he's looking quite well for all he's been through, poor fellow," Henvain sighed. "Had a nice chat. He's going to recommend me for a move up in rank!"
"You may not feel so fortunate, once you see what that involves," observed Faelor with a bemused shake of his head. "But you've earned the honor, that's for certain."
"That's what Lord Faramir said," Henvain recalled as they began to walk together back across the courtyard. He held up the book. "He gave me this, said it'd help me with the trials. It belonged to Lord Boromir!"
Faelor took it carefully as he gasped. "That's a nice one!" he said with awe, opening it and looking over a few pages. "You're lucky, I had to do all my studying at the archives. Even some of the Captains don't own a history like this. And from Lord Boromir's library, as well!" He closed it cautiously and handed it back. "You won't have to do a thing, you scoundrel. Just wave that at the examiners and they'll be so impressed they'll pass you at once."
"Huh!" Henvain shook his head. "Somehow I doubt that. But, I'm sure it'll help. Imagine, me, a Captain!"
They reached the steps to the next level and began to descend them.
"It's a remarkable idea, to be sure," conceded Faelor as they moved down the stairs. "But then, it's rather astounding to think of all that's happened in just the past few months, isn't it?"
"Huh!" grunted Henvain with a twitch of his head. "That's for certain. Hard to believe it's only been that long since we were ridin' out on that boring patrol and came across the Haradrim." His tone was wistful. "Seems so long ago, now."
"And remember when Prince Jadim rode off, after giving us the message for the King?" Faelor asked. "You said you'd probably wish things had stayed boring."
His friend chuckled. "Sort of," he admitted. "Boring did seem a whole lot safer, at the time."
"Yes, and look at all that happened since then," Faelor remarked. "What with the peace with the Haradrim tribes more likely than ever now, and most of the Orcs driven out of Mordor, and all that you went through, and looking to be a Captain now..." he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Henvain, but it looks as if nothing's going to be boring again. Everything's different now."
A few moments of silence passed as Henvain considered this.
"Yes, I suppose it is," sighed Henvain, as they traveled from the shadows of the tunnel into the sunlight. "But now that I think on it, I'm not so sure that's a bad thing, Fae. It doesn't seem to me like a bad thing, at all."
His friend smiled in agreement, and they continued their journey together through the bright autumn morning.
----------
Author's Note: Just one more chapter to go! Stay tuned, and thanks so much for reading!