Lunch was turkey curry. Faramir had never encountered anything quite that spicy – even the evil garlic sausage young Anborn used to bring back from leave in Lebennin didn't have that much of a kick. But it was nice when you got used to it – and even nicer when he added in a couple of spoonfuls of the children's much milder version while no-one was looking, and a good dollop of yoghurt.
After lunch Jane's phone buzzed, and she quickly checked to see the message. (Palantirs, Faramir found himself thinking once more.)
"Oh great, Izzy from number 20 says she can come and babysit. Says after two days of her parents, she's looking forward to a break." Jane laughed. "That'll be ours in seven or eight years' time."
"It's just soooo unfair," Theo answered, in a quite passable imitation of Kevin the Teenager. "Mind you, I've already been through it all once… in fact, given the way they were belting hell out of each other earlier, I'm not sure I'm out of it yet."
"Faramir came off worst," said Éowyn.
"Only 'cos he made the mistake of pissing you off," Éomer retorted.
"So – pub tonight," Jane interrupted. "And Wyn, try to find something that's not jeans and a sweatshirt fraying round the cuffs."
Faramir volunteered to help Jane tidy up (he was acutely aware of her generosity in looking after him). Éomer offered too. Kelly (who had decided two big brother figures were better than one) came to supervise, and perched on a chair, chattering enthusiastically.
"Éomer's horse is called Maldon. Did you know all the horses are called after battles or places, so Maldon must be extra special because he's called after both?"
Éomer's face broke into a broad grin. "He's a good boy, is Maldon. Well behaved, but plenty of spirit with it."
"And Maldon lives really, really high up. All the way up near the top of a tower block. He has to go up and down in a special lift for horses."
Faramir shot Éomer a look of complete bafflement. Éomer laughed, and pulled out his phone. "Here," he said, and passed the phone over. Faramir took it as though it might bite (again, that part of his mind which still whispered Palantir). True to his suspicions, the phone showed an image – of a high tower which dwarfed the trees around its base, majestic chestnuts and oaks and limes though they were. The tower stood proud against a bright blue sky. So sharp was the contrast, one might almost have imagined being able to reach from one of the upper windows and place a hand on the high vault of the firmament itself.
"Hyde Park Barracks," Éomer explained. "There really is a lift inside for the horses, and some of the stables are near the top."
Faramir stood stock still. There was a roaring sound in his ears, and he felt as though the world had tilted around him. He whispered in a voice almost too low to be heard, "Seek for the swordsman who is no man, and the knight whose horse is stabled in the sky."
Éomer and Jane both stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at him, Jane turning chalk white.
Faramir gave his head a shake, then looked around. He saw his companions looking at him with shocked faces. "I…" He didn't quite know where to start. These people already thought him mad, and now he had added to that impression. And he realised, thrown out of kilter by the fragmentary memory, that he was not entirely sure himself that he was sane. But yet, but yet.
"They are what I remember someone saying to me before I was cast into this world. I was to seek for these people… And it seems as though you have been here all along, both of you."
He could see Jane, pressing her hands on the kitchen counter for support, knuckles white, looking even more distressed.
"I know you think I am mad, moon-struck. I would think the same were I you. But all I can tell you is the truth as I know it – that someone said these words to me, entrusted me with a sacred mission to find the swordsman and the knight. And it seems I have found them, though I know not what I am meant to do."
Suddenly, a wave of tiredness washed over him. He sat down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs and rubbed the backs of his hands against his eyes.
Jane's shoulder's sagged. She was searching round desperately for a sane explanation. Eventually, she came up with the best one she could. "Tomorrow I'm taking you to the doctor. I think this might be the after effects of the bang on the head. It's your brain trying to fill in the gaps it doesn't remember, and just latching onto things you've come across in the last few days, weaving them into a story at random."
Faramir was too tired to argue the point. "Perhaps you are right, Mistress Jane. Maybe I should go and rest for an hour or so. I am sorry if my words have caused you distress." He gave one of those strange bows, hand to his chest, then turned and left.
Éomer let out a long breath he hadn't known he was holding. "Mad as a box of frogs," he said. Then, "Christ, and I think Éowyn's falling for him."
"I'll get him to the doctor tomorrow..."
Jane was interrupted by Theo walking into the kitchen. "Get who to the doctor? Faramir?"
"Yes, he's had a bit of a funny turn. Started talking about having been sent to find a… what was it again, Éomer?"
"A swordsman who was no man, and a knight whose horse was stabled in the sky. Seems to think it was me and Éowyn." Éomer touched his finger to his temple and circled it in the time-honoured gesture.
"Faramir's not mad. He's nice." Kelly's voice suddenly piped up out of nowhere. Jane drew in a sharp breath – she'd forgotten Kelly was there, listening to everything.
"You're right, of course he's not mad. But he has had a nasty bump on the head and we're worried about him, love. Éomer…" She shot him a warning look, as if to say help me out here. "Didn't you want to watch that new DVD with the kids?"
Éomer grimaced as if to say Not particularly, but scooped Kelly up and took her through to the sitting room.
Theo sat down, unwittingly taking the chair Faramir had just vacated. "So, tell me about it."
Jane filled him in on the details. "It was quite uncanny. He really believes this stuff."
There was a long silence. Eventually, Theo spoke.
"You're going to think I'm as mad as he is. But… About a week before social services turned up in the middle of the night with a couple of traveller kids, cold and frightened out of their wits, Sue had a dream. In the dream, someone came to her – a wise man, a dewin, she called him. He said that her greatest desire would come to her, two children to love and look after, and bring to adulthood. But these children were only on loan. That one day, someone would come for them. Not in a bad way, mind. Just that they were destined for greatness, and he'd be there to let them know the time had come."
"You're right. You do sound as mad as him."
"There's an old trunk in the lock-up with my work stuff. The rest of the stuff the kids came with. It's in there, I think." Theo looked at his watch. "I'll go get it tomorrow. You and I can go through it, see what there is in there."
"Theo, I'm worried. About you. You're getting drawn into this whole thing and it's completely crazy."
~o~O~o~
Éomer put Kelly on the couch, then found the new DVD. Éowyn looked up from where she'd been helping Callum to build another railway.
"Where's Faramir?"
In times to come, Éomer sometimes felt a lot of trouble – and he meant a lot – might have been saved if he'd been honest with Éowyn and told her just how barking mad the dark-haired man she'd insisted on bringing home was. He should have been honest. Rather than stay silent and let her fall for a nutter. Though… Perhaps some things were destined to be. Perhaps she'd still have fallen in love with him knowing he was a nutter. Either way, hindsight was a wonderful thing, but the trouble was, one didn't have it at the moment the decision had to be made. And he decided, in that moment, to stay quiet.
In any case, the truth was, he actually liked the man. And he couldn't bring himself to make Éowyn unhappy. Right now, there and then, not knowing what lay in store, all he could think was that Éowyn would work it out for herself soon enough, so he didn't need to upset her right now.
"He's gone for a lie down – bit of a headache. Says he'll be fine after a bit of a rest. Plenty good enough to go to the pub. Which is the important thing."
"Good. Farouk just called. He said we could go and check on your bike if we wanted. He wanted to know what you wanted doing with it – the quick fix or the more expensive solution."
"Well, seeing as how you're going to have to pay for it, I think the more expensive one. But okay, we'll go and see him. He happy with us going over on Boxing Day?"
"Yeah. Said he quite likes Christmas itself, excuse a bit of a party and stuffing yourself with nice food. But by Boxing Day he's getting a bit fed up with the whole palaver, and really he'd sooner be celebrating Eid. The food tastes better after all the fasting, apparently, and he's fed up with turkey."
Éomer laughed.
Ten minutes later, Faramir appeared in the doorway.
"Feeling better?" Éowyn asked.
"I am very much improved, thank you," Faramir lied. In fact he had spent the last hour or so staring at the ceiling in a state of turmoil. He now had two fragmentary memories, and knew he had found something important to his quest, but how it tied together, or how he was supposed to proceed from here, he had not the first idea.
Éowyn wasn't fooled. His face had a pinched, drawn look, and there were furrows of worry between his brows. She wondered if a distraction would help.
"I'm going out in the garden to sort out my fencing gear," she said, getting up from her place on the floor. "I've got a competition when I get back to barracks, and I want to make sure I've got the right kit with me. Do you want to show me your stuff while we're out there? I'd be interested to see it."
Faramir nodded, grateful for something to do, and stood to one side to let her lead the way.
Éowyn made short work of selecting her favourite competition blades and the protective clothing that went with them, stowing them safely in a large holdall. Then, from the back of the shed, she unearthed a folding table which she set out on the path.
"Put your stuff on here and talk me through it," she said.
Faramir placed his bow and quiver on the table. "I would imagine these will be of least interest to you – for you are a… mistress with the sword, rather than an archer. The bow is one of my favourites. For a pitched battle, I'd choose a longbow, but for work in the woods – scouting, ambushes – a longbow would be unwieldy and get caught. So this one is a bit shorter. Still quite a heavy draw weight." He paused, strung the bow, then handed it to Éowyn. She tried to pull it, but could only get it about half way. Faramir smiled. "It takes practice. I won't nock any arrows – it wouldn't be safe so close to the houses."
He put the bow and quiver back in the shed, then got out his sword in its scabbard, and two knives. Éowyn looked at the knives first, drawing them carefully from their scabbards. Cautiously, she tested an edge with her thumb.
"Good and sharp..."
"Wouldn't be much use if it wasn't."
She looked at the blade. Along the blade, just in from the cutting edge, was a sworling, wavy line of mottled grey steel, almost like marbling. She looked more closely. Along the length of the blade, parallel to it, she could make out fine lines, almost like the grain in wood, but much, much finer. Éowyn traced the irregular wave with a finger tip.
"It's beautiful."
"The wave comes from repeatedly heating and quenching the blade during forging. The grain comes from folding the metal over and over again, to make it strong and flexible."
"Like a Japanese Katana," Éowyn said. "But I've never seen this done for a dagger before."
"I know not of the Katana, but yes, we forge both daggers and swords this way. Though my sword is a very work-a-day implement. The scabbard, though, belonged to my grandfather."
Éowyn picked up the sword in its scabbard. The scabbard was an old, but supple and well-cared for leather. She turned it over. Stitched into the leather, in silver thread, was an emblem – a stylised tree, white against the dark leather. She placed her hand over it, and instantly felt something like an electric shock, a sense of connection. Startled, she pulled her hand back.
"You felt it too… as I felt it, when I held your brooch in my hand," Faramir said.
Éowyn stared at him, feeling the world tilt beneath her feet.
"I don't understand it either," Faramir said, covering her hand with his own for a moment. "But I feel it too. And – hard as it may be to believe – I am not mad." Just for a moment, he held onto her hand, stroking gentle circles on the back of it with his thumb.