Chapter 6: Pharazphel's Recovery
For the next few days, Pharazphel remained in the care of the Houses of Healing. She had not woken since telling Boromir of her name. The wounded woman had taken a grievous injury since leaving Rohan. Her hurts did not simply stop with her torture; she had also been hurt by leaving her home in danger and the loss of her mother. She may have died in the torture of those strange creatures with all the pain she endured.
Boromir and Faramir barely left Pharazphel's side. They both felt it was their duty to look after this woman they had rescued. In their hearts, it was the least they could do to help the people of Rohan. It did not take long during this time for Denethor to learn of his sons' secret mission. Once he did, he was furious that his sons had disobeyed him.
"This is how you would serve me? This is how you would serve Gondor?" Denethor demanded, his lips curling in fury.
"No, my lord, this is how we would serve Men," Boromir countered.
"By risking the lives of men to aid a country who never aided us?" Denethor demanded.
"Just because Rohan has never sought to aid us does not mean we should abandon them," Faramir said boldly.
"And what are the fruits of your good deed?" Denethor demanded angrily. "You lose more than half the men you traveled with that were useful to us. What's more is that you bring in some weak, broken Rohan damsel!"
"I assure you that the woman is quite a strong woman to endure what she did," Faramir said.
"My lord, what are you saying? We had no choice but to protect this woman," Boromir said.
"She was not worth the loss of your men," Denethor said callously.
Boromir was stunned. "You think we should have left her to die. You think it would have been better if this woman had died in torment of the Uruk-Hai of Isengard."
"Yes, that is what should have happened," Denethor said, his tone unwavering.
Both Boromir and Faramir were stunned at their father. They knew he had grown into a cold man, but they did not know the frost covered his heart.
"I am sorry to have disappointed you, my lord," Boromir said earnestly.
Boromir and Faramir bowed and went on their way to the Houses of Healing.
While on the short walk to the Houses of Healing, Boromir was deeply shaken by his father's words. He hated that he disappointed his father, but he hated more what his father asked of him.
"I have never disappointed father like that before," Boromir said sadly.
"I only took comfort in that he was chastising you instead of me," Faramir jested. "This was your idea and you had no shame of it before."
"Why did we bring this woman?" Boromir asked.
"We brought her because she would have died and it was the right thing," Faramir said nobly.
"Perhaps Father was right," Boromir said regretfully.
"Are you ashamed that we rescued this woman?" Faramir demanded, aghast.
"We did lose our men that could have served here," Boromir said.
"Father is not always right and we both know that," Faramir said.
"I just cannot believe what he asked of us. I did not know that he would condone the death of one of our brethren," Boromir said in shock.
"What matters is that the woman is safe and we did right saving her," Faramir said firmly.
Boromir nodded. "Come. Let us know the condition of this brave woman."
Boromir and Faramir entered the Houses of Healing and met with Ioreth.
"How does the lady fare?" Boromir asked.
Ioreth was grave. "It is difficult to say, my lords."
"Has she spoken or awakened at all?" Faramir wanted to know.
"No, my lord," Ioreth said sadly. "I am afraid the lady has been severely hurt."
Both brothers had shivers run down their spines.
"Will she not live?" Boromir asked sadly.
"I do not know," Ioreth replied. "I can see that this woman has strength, but I fear that her wounds are stronger."
"What can we do for her?" Boromir wanted to know.
"I do not think there is anything more you can do, my lords," Ioreth said gravely. "I must change this woman's bandages."
Ioreth turned Pharazphel on her belly and began to change the bandages. Boromir and Faramir were horrified by what they saw. The bandages were dyed red by Pharazphel's blood and her back was horribly scarred.
"What monsters could do this to a lady?" Boromir demanded, his blood boiling.
"Saruman's hordes will taste the blood of any man, woman, or child," Faramir said grimly.
"Now I know this woman must have strength like stone," Boromir said in awe. "To endure the torment of these monsters one must be made of stone."
"Indeed," Faramir said.
Boromir gazed at Pharazphel. His heart sank as he looked at her, her broken arm bound in a sling, many bruises blackening her white skin. Pharazphel looked as if death had already taken her. Her skin was a deathly white and she seemed not to breathe. Boromir was ashamed of himself for letting his father's words get to him.
"What a fool I was to regret saving this woman," Boromir sighed. "I do not even know if we even saved her completely."
"How do you mean?" Faramir asked.
"We may have destroyed her tormentors, but I think that we may have already been too late," Boromir replied sorrowfully.
"There is always hope, brother," Faramir said.
Pharazphel remained near death for another week. Boromir and Faramir grew worried every day that she would never wake. They worried that they might have indeed been too late to save Pharazphel from her captors.
Finally, on the last day of the week, Pharazphel began to show small signs of improvement.
"How does the lady fare, Ioreth?" Boromir asked.
"She is starting to recover," Ioreth said brightly.
Boromir was taken aback. "Are you certain?"
"How do you know?" Faramir asked.
"Look," Ioreth said, pointing to Pharazphel's still body.
To the amazement of Boromir and Faramir, they could see Pharazphel's breast rise beneath the covers. Her skin had more colour than before and her black bruises were gone.
"The lady is on the mend," Ioreth declared proudly. "Her fever has gone. She is nearly healed, save for her right arm."
"It looks like she had strength like stone as you said, brother," Faramir said happily.
"Indeed," Boromir said in relief.
By that night, Pharazphel had awakened. She was startled, as she did not know where she was. She saw many wounded around her and many nurses tending these wounded. The room was of marble and seemed to glimmer in the moonlight.
Pharazphel took notice of her own wounds. She saw her arm bound in a sling and grimaced as she tried to rise. A tall man with fair hair came to her side.
"Please, you need your rest, Pharazphel," the man said.
"Who are you?" Pharazphel asked.
"You do not remember?" the man asked.
"No, my last memory is leaving Rohan and I do not know you," Pharazphel replied.
"I am Boromir, son of Denethor," replied the tall man.
"Then I am not in Edoras?" Pharazphel wanted to know.
"No, my lady, you are in Minas Tirith, and you are in the Houses of Healing," Boromir answered.
"I should be in Edoras," Pharazphel said resolutely, attempting to rise again.
"No, rest my lady," Boromir said, lowering her back to her pillow. "You need not travel as wounded as you are."
"I was ordered to go to Edoras. I must warn King Théoden of the attack on our village," Pharazphel said stubbornly.
"I am certain that your King knows of the danger in your land by now," Boromir reassured her.
"How is it that I am here and not in Edoras?" Pharazphel wanted to know.
"My brother and I had heard news of Saruman the Traitor's treachery," Boromir explained. "We rode with a small company to give aid to Rohan, but we were overwhelmed. We freed you from the Uruk-Hai and brought you here to heal."
"Uruk-Hai?" Pharazphel asked, bewildered.
"They are the monsters of Isengard who attacked you," Boromir answered.
"I am grateful for all that you have done for me, my lord, but I must ride for Edoras with all haste," Pharazphel said appreciatively.
"My lady, you have just awakened and have just begun to heal. You need to rest," Boromir said urgently.
"I have been a prisoner of my wounds long enough," Pharazphel said obstinately. "Saruman and his Uruk-Hai are not resting. As long as they are not resting, I cannot so I must go."
"I know your courage as soon as I found you, my lady, but wisdom this is not," Boromir argued. "If you ride now, your wounds may get worse. You could be attacked again or worse."
"I will not be held prisoner here," Pharazphel protested.
"Would you rather be held prisoner by Saruman?" Boromir countered. "That is all that will happen if you ride now. I beg you, Pharazphel, rest."
"You do not understand. My mother died so that I may get to Edoras. I must repay her by fulfilling my duty," Pharazphel explained.
"Your mother would not want you to die needlessly," Boromir countered. "Please, I know it is difficult to ask of you, but stay and rest."
Finally, Pharazphel relented and lay still. "Forgive me, my lord."
"There is nothing to forgive, Pharazphel," Boromir said gently. "Tell me about your mother."
"She taught me everything I know," Pharazphel said. "She taught me to fight and ride. The last lesson I ever learned from her was to never fear death as there are worse things."
"Hence your courage," Boromir added.
"I truly believe those Uruk-Hai were afraid of me because I did not break," Pharazphel said proudly.
Boromir laughed. "I think they were terrified, indeed. You must be made of stone to endure their torment."
"I would not consider that torment. I think that the Uruk-Hai only have me longer arms and legs," Pharazphel jested.
Boromir laughed merrily. "Indeed. Please, you must rest now."
"Thank you, my lord," Pharazphel said graciously.
Later that night, under the cover of darkness, Pharazphel rose from her bed and looked north. She could not bear the thought of her country suffering. She could not bear to rest while her people were murdered and the country burned. Pharazphel could take no more. She crept out into the darkness in search of the stables.
She crept into the stable and opened the creaking door as carefully as she could. She then took the nearest horse she could find and mounted it. To her dismay, the horse reared and screeched. Before she could make her escape, Pharazphel was stopped by another man. Through the darkness, Pharazphel could see that this man greatly resembled Boromir.
"Who are you?" the man demanded.
"I am Pharazphel, daughter of Pharazpher," Pharazphel replied. "What be your name?"
"I am Faramir, son of Denethor," the man replied. "You belong in the Houses of Healing, not on a horse, my lady."
Pharazphel groaned. She accepted her defeat and went willingly with Faramir back to the Houses of Healing. As she did, she promised herself that she would get back to Rohan.
