These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain
"Et tu, Brute?" (Even you Brutus ?) - Julius Ceasar
Warning – This chapter and subsequent ones contain material, which may shock or distress sensitive readers.
After passing a broken down gamekeeper's cottage, they finally reached their destination.
Devorin's Hunting Lodge was situated right on the edge of the forest and was somewhat larger than Faramir had been led to believe, closely resembling where he had stayed with Aragorn and Eowyn the year before. He only hoped that he would not have to share a bed with about ten others while he was here. Embracing Lord Lamedon and eating with him and his company was quite unpleasant enough.
When they dismounted and gave the care of their horses over to the grooms, a familiar small figure came running out of the house.
"Greetings, Lady Elbeth!" Lord Lamedon said pompously, kissing her small hand. She wrinkled her nose in distaste and then ran towards Faramir, who was a few paces behind. On reaching the Steward, she flung her small arms around his waist.
"You've come back!" she exclaimed joyfully, "I missed you! Mummy took me away from the nice lady you said was going to look after me and brought me here and I don't like it! Can you take me home?"
Faramir scooped her up and hugged her. She was slightly taller and plumper now than when he had first met her and instead of being clad in one of Aragorn's spare shirts, was now wearing a garish and unsuitable gown of pink silk, embroidered in gold.
"I missed you too, little one!" Faramir replied, ignoring her plea but knowing that he would have to somehow take her with him, if he escaped from this place alive.
"I'm not little now, I'm grown up and I'm going to be queen soon!" Elbeth pouted.
"Leave the Lord Steward alone, Lady Elbeth!" snapped Lord Lamedon.
"I do not mind, after all she is my niece!" Faramir replied.
"You! How dare you come here, let go of my daughter!" cried a strident voice, "Arrest him at once, you fools!"
Hanna, her manner and demeanour much as Faramir remembered, but vastly altered in appearance, as like her daughter she had put on weight and was lavishly attired in a red silk gown lavishly decorated with oversized ruffles.
"Peace, Lady Hanna!" Lord Lamedon soothed, "The Steward has seen the error of his ways and has come to join us. Have you not, Lord Faramir?"
Faramir bent to let Elbeth climb down, hoping that might be also interpreted as a bow to her mother.
"Indeed, I am most sorry for any discourtesy done to you, my lady, I acted only on the late King's orders" he said contritely, "I now wish only to see you and my niece given her rightful place in society."
Hanna snorted not seeming very convinced. Taking Elbeth by the hand,she dragged the reluctant child back indoors.
Faramir stared after them for a moment. It was strange to think that this innocent child should be the course of so much turmoil. If only he had taken her to Ithilien with him a year ago!
A servant then appeared and showed Faramir to his room, which to his great relief appeared to be for his sole use, despite the size of the bed. He had been concerned about sharing, which was the usual custom, lest he talked in his sleep and gave away his deception. Not that sharing a bed with a traitor would be a pleasant prospect in itself. He shuddered; thinking that was exactly what he was in the eyes of the world now.
He unpacked the few processions he had brought; all calculated not arouse suspicion, fine tunics, shirts and breeches, clean linens, a comb, a book and a silver dish as a gift for his host.
The vial containing the spider venom and a tapestry needle purloined from Arwen's sewing room, were the only suspicious items he carried, which he intended to keep on his person. He also had his precious brooch with him, a gift from Aragorn, which he was forced to wear pinned inside his shirt.
He bathed before dinner, scrubbing himself vigorously to try to wash away the taint he was feeling and trying to avoid rubbing the place upon his brow where Lord Lamedon had kissed him too conspicuously, though he would have scrubbed it, together with his lips, until it bled if doing so would not have betrayed him. Until today, he had only ever kissed those who were very dear to him.
He kept sword beside him in the bathing chamber as a precaution, wishing he could run Lord Lamedon through with its blade for his treachery. He yearned to search the Lodge and take Aragorn away to safety this instant, yet he could not without them both being killed or worse. Then there was Elbeth, somehow he must take her away too, for not only was she his niece, but also unwittingly one of the most dangerous individuals in the land.
Forcing himself to compose his thoughts, he dressed in a clean shirt, tunic and breeches. He had taken care these past weeks, not wear anything bearing the emblems of the White Tree or Seven Stars, as they were too closely associated with Aragorn. Luckily, he also had clothing designed to honour Eowyn's homeland He trusted that a design of white horses on a green background would say nothing more about him than that he loved his wife!
A tap came on his door shortly before the hour set to dine and he heard Lord Lamedon's voice calling "If you are at liberty, Lord Faramir, there is something I would show you!"
"One moment, I am just changing!" Faramir replied, as he again checked the vial of spider venom was in his pocket and a dagger concealed in his boot. On some strange impulse, he retrieved his gloves, which lay beside his travelling cloak, and thrust them into his pocket.
Forcing a smile, he went out to see what his host had planned.
"My Lord Fosco," Faramir exclaimed enthusiastically, "I will be delighted to see whatever you desire! I am most curious."
"This will be a surprise, Lord Faramir!" Fosco gave me a smile, which reminded him uncomfortably of a wolf baring its jaws before devouring its prey.
A lantern in his hand, Lord Lamedon led him through a maze of stone corridors and down towards the basement. The Steward tried to hide his growing fear that this was a trap and he was being led like a lamb to the slaughter.
"Watch your step!" Lord Lamedon advised, as he led Faramir down a flight of worn stairs to what appeared to be a wine cellar. The lantern cast eerie shadows on the mildewed walls and the Steward coughed from the unhealthy dampness.
"I have a surprise for you!" Fosco announced when they paused before a door, "This will be the very last person you expected to see. I have decided that it is only right that you should now that you are obviously on our side .You deserve to be taken into our full confidence!"
He threw open the door and held the lantern high to reveal a windowless cellar unfurnished apart from a rough mattress and a bucket. The sudden stench of combined damp, filth and disease, which emanated from the small room, made Faramir feel like retching.
A man, filthy and emaciated, lay on the bed, his wrist and ankles shackled and fastened by another chain to the wall.
He wore filthy clothing and was partially covered by a moth eaten and stained blanket. The shrunken features were contorted with suffering, but the eyes and noble bearing, even in such circumstances were unmistakable. It was Aragorn.
A surge of elation welled up in Faramir's heart, making him forget the squalid surroundings. His King was alive!
He looked away fearful his eyes would betray his true feelings.
"I've brought you a visitor, Elessar!" Fosco sneered, "You can see now that holding out against authorising the marriage is futile, as the only one who might have opposed the union, has decided to join us!"
Aragorn wearily lifted his head and looked directly at Faramir. A mixture of hope and joy briefly flickered in the grey eyes before giving way to concern.
Faramir knew all too well what his friend was feeling, pleasure at seeing him, swiftly superseded by concern over his safety. He forced himself to look at his King trying to hide his joy that he lived as well as the horror of finding him so obviously ill treated in a cold, dark cellar.
"Why, Lord Faramir, you seem quite dumbstruck!" Lord Lamedon commented, giving the Steward a suspicious look "I could almost suspect that it pleased you to know that this usurper still lives?"
Faramir shuddered inwardly. It seemed that he was about to be unmasked. He would have to do that which he had most feared.
He knew what he must do next, would break Aragorn's heart and his own too. He slid his hands inside his pockets and donned the gloves.
Striding across the small room, he struck the helpless King a blow across the face.
" I thought you at the bottom of the river and not a moment too soon!" he snarled, "After everything you have made me suffer I hoped I was finally rid of you!"
Aragorn barely flinched at the blow but the look of hurt, betrayal and shock in his eyes was more than Faramir could endure.
"Even you Faramir!" The softly voiced reproach was like a dagger through the Steward's heart. He strode towards the door without a second glance. Fosco followed and locked it behind them.
TBC
A/N
"Et tu, Brute?" is used to express surprise and dismay at the treachery of a supposed friend. Spoken by Caesar in 44 B.C., on seeing that his friend Brutus was one of his assassins
Elbeth and Hanna are introduced in the latter chapters of' Shadow and Thought', which I would recommend referring to, if you have not already read it.
A big thank you to everyone who has reviewed, you are greatly appreciated. I have now passed the 300 mark, how many more depends entirely on my loyal readers. Some of you have made some very good guesses and I loved the poem!
Faramir does not dislike chicken but being in such company has rather spoiled his appetite.
The idea of Faramir burying his head in the tunic was Elenhin's, for which I am most grateful.