Faramir/Merry/Eowyn fic... Part II
Just a lot of Faramir in here... i didn't forget about this fic.
I have another part I may post soon.
Thank you to grey_wonderer for her thoughts and to lindahoyland for her beta!
Part II- Faramir deals with his grief and finds some hope too. Lots of h/c and angst....
Bright fire was falling everywhere. It was always hot and steaming now. The once strong foundation of stone was also succumbing to the heat. The white unstained stones were blood filled and everything was crumbling, crumbling!
He found himself stumbling. Fire was everywhere. When had Ithilien burned so hard and so deep?
And where was Boromir? He had seen him go down to the river. His father Denethor, always stern, never a man to show emotion, was openly weeping, holding the broken horn of Gondor, the token that his dear brother had held.
“Then do you wish our places had been exchanged?”
“Yes, for he was no wizard’s pupil while you are - only looking and seeking Mithrandir’s approval. While you left the hobbits wonder witlessly into the Black Land of Mordor, you hastened the destruction of your own land. Why are you such a fool? Never do you seek my counsel-do you always think of your father a dotard and a fool?”
“No, I would never think that way!”
“Burning, burning, all is burning. I will burn too!”
Father, no!”
Denethor did not heed anyone, especially not Faramir. And to Faramir’s horror, Denethor poured oil unto himself and flung himself out the tower.
“NO!!!”
Faramir flung the covers of his blankets on to the floor, and leapt to his feet. He sought his sword but then realized he was in the Houses of Healing and that he had had a most vivid nightmare. It was still the middle of the night.
Sweat had drenched his nightshirt, and he felt foolish to have been so affected by a nightmare as this. Tears pricked his eyes. His shoulder throbbed anew with the sudden movement he made. He was heavy with grief about his father, but he knew better than to blame himself.
His shoulder ached, his head hurt, and suddenly he felt very alone in this world. He walked slowly over to the window that faced eastwards. It was deepest blackness outside with not a star or the moon to illuminate the night sky. The Captains of the West had marched away for two days now and there was no word. He had had an engrossing conversation with the Hobbit Meriadoc yesterday, but he did not confide in anyway and with anyone about how hollow he felt with his brother and now father gone from the circles of Arda. Grieve while he may when there was still uncertainty that they would win against Mordor. It would be a bitter spring to be without family and without hope.
During the time in Osgiliath, he was busy directing the Rangers of Ithilien and did not have time to properly grieve, but now he felt the great emptiness of not having his older brother here anymore. And to hear how his father had perished was too much to endure.
Tears streamed down his eyes, which made his headache worse. He wept freely. He walked back tentatively to his bed and felt older than his years. If only he had someone to talk with, someone who understood grief and loss as he did. Faramir took a deep breath. He laid back down in bed and felt the headache was not as intense now as the throbbing on his shoulder. His physical health had improved greatly since Aragorn had seen him three days ago, but sometimes when it was quiet at night, he would feel some of the after effects of the Black Breath. The head nurse, Amarie, who was assigned to him, would still come to check how he was during the day, making sure he took the necessary pain medication and willow bark and Echinacea teas to prevent any fever.
The wound was healing well, but there would most likely be a scar till the end of his days of where the arrow had penetrated. He shuddered to think that he could have perished. He still felt a slither of hope that there would be a better future of Gondor.
But now, he would think of how tragic both his father and brother’s deaths were and remember them. Even though he was not close to Denethor, he still felt the loss and he was shocked at the madness that drove his father to the abyss. The grief was unbearable.
He remembered being pulled from a never-ending labyrinth of warped nightmares by Aragorn back into reality when he was under the Black Shadow. It was unlike anything that he had felt. Was he on the edge of death before? He did not know entirely, but he knew Aragorn’s intentions were good and he could lead Gondor and the Northern Kingdoms back to the glory that they once had. He felt indebted and in Aragorn’s service after he had saved his life. He could not explain the trust and confidence, but he knew that if Aragorn came back, he would make sure there would be a smooth transition.
He felt more at ease on thinking about the hopeful future that might be if the War was won. However, sleep did not come easily for the nightmare had made him anxious and troubled. How might matters have been different had he went to Imladris? How might it have been different had they successfully defended Osgliath? There was hope, but fear was yet stronger as the dark forces were pouring forth to quench any hope of a positive spring for Gondor and also Middle-earth. It would be a bitter spring, indeed, if the Dark Lord crushed Gondor’s forces and if the Ring were found.
Faramir was weary, but he could not close his eyes, for fear that his father would still haunt him in his dreams with taunts that he could never hope to be as good as his brother. His eyes grew heavy and tired from weeping as much as he did. Eventually he fell into an uneasy sleep.
~~~
The morning came but gave no respite from Faramir’s dark thoughts. Faramir did not rise when the nurse entered nor when breakfast came. He felt too tired and out of sorts, less hopeful than how he had felt yesterday and the day before when he was speaking with the Hobbit and about Lady Éowyn.
“My Lord?” Amarie was standing by his bed seemingly wanting to give him his medicine.
But he was in a fey mood and feigned sleep; he hoped that everyone would leave him be for the moment. He would worry about his responsibilities when the King returned. If he returned.
But his nurse was insistent.
“My Lord Faramir; you are warmer than expected at the moment. We need to change your dressing and you need to wake up to take your medicine. Lord Faramir!”
Blearily he opened his eyes. Amarie examined his wound, checked his pulse and placed some cooling cloths on his head. He did not feel like protesting.
Amarie was young, with brown hair, brown eyes and small stature. She was a kindly woman, directly under Ioreth in supervising him and making sure he would get better. She was the head nurse, second only to Ioreth in skill. There were a handful of people from the city who visited him each day, and all were anxious for his health. Bergil would come as well, representing Beregond, who he knew was devoted to him. Today, he did not feel like any visitors.
“Sorry, I did not sleep too well last night.” Faramir yawned, and he felt the throbbing intensely in his shoulder and he felt warmer than expected. “Please tell my visitors that I wish to be alone today.”
“You do not look as well as yesterday. We will only bother you for a little while now,” Amarie replied.
She changed his bandages, and he acquiesced to the willow bark tea that was prepared for him. He did not have an appetite though and laid back down and closed his eyes.
“My lord, you have to eat this late breakfast that Ioreth ordered for you.”
“I will later; I am quite tired now,” replied Faramir drowsily.
“I will be back in half hour; it is quite late, my Lord, and you haven’t eaten today,” Amarie insisted.
“I will eat later, I promise,” replied Faramir and with those words he fell asleep again.
When Faramir woke later that day, it was an hour past noon, but he felt better physically. Amarie and Ioreth were both there chiding him to eat and he did. He took a bite of his meal they had brought back for him, and Amarie checked his vital signs.
After the meal and some tea, he felt well enough to get up. He never liked being idle, even though he was still ordered to take it easy each day.
“Even if you feel up to, please do not overtax yourself, my Lord! You weren’t yourself this morning. We cannot rule out a relapse and remember, you were pulled from the Black Shadow only recently!” Ioreth reprimanded.
“Very well, I will take care,” replied Faramir as he looked out his window.
He remembered that he would like to meet the Lady Éowyn if he could. The one thought that kept his hope alive was that there that there might be someone in whose company he could keep the darkness at bay. This also motivated to keep his strength up. He did not quite understand why he was so drawn to her, especially at their first meeting when she seemed so ill at ease for being in the Houses of Healing.
After walking around his room, he did not feel strong enough yet to venture out to the Gardens. He sat wearily back on his bed. He resolved he would take a walk during the evening. He had hoped Merry would be there again and they would look out for the Lady of Rohan together.
Afternoon turned to early evening when Faramir took another nap.
There was a hollow darkness and a great shadow that sought to overcome Gondor. Dark waves threaten to drown Gondor. But how could that be? That was only of Numenor long ago. Surely Gondor did not suffer from the same fate?
Faramir awoke with a start, beads of sweat on his forehead. He blinked and saw the familiar surroundings of his room. The darkness in the dream had an uninviting look, and it scared him because he felt like he would fall into it if he didn’t wake up in time.
“My lord?” Amarie was beside him, her brown eyes wide with concern. “Are you all right? It is time for dinner. It was just a dream.” She brought him some tea.
“I dreamt of ruin and destruction,” Faramir trembled and spoke slowly between sips of the tea and water that Amarie had brought for him.
“Do not despair, my lord,” Amarie replied. “There is a leader that went off to the Black Gate. He will not let us down. I’ve heard that he pulled you back from the brink of death. The worst is over.”
“I’ve heard that too,” Faramir lay back down. Snatches of the nightmare were receding, but he still feared for his people. He missed Boromir who made him feel better despite all the challenges that Gondor faced throughout the years. Boromir always knew the reassuring words to say to make him feel better despite all the obstacles that Gondor faced. Now he hoped he had not failed Gondor.
Amarie felt Faramir’s forehead. “Aye, sir, you are still feeling too warm. Let me check your shoulder. You should not be feverish anymore, but you still are which I am concerned about. Are you feeling ill?”
“No, I am well enough. I will eat dinner and then go out to the Gardens,” Faramir was keen to show that he was better. He was just weary, and he did not feel like idling. Just those dreams had made him uneasy.
“I will eat by the window, so please bring my tray there,” said Faramir as he sat up and motioned to the window facing East.
“Do not worry overmuch; you need to keep getting better, my Lord. Gondor needs its Steward to lead us,” said Amarie gently.
“You are right, don’t worry about me,” replied Fararmir. He felt a sense of responsibility that he had to take once he was one hundred percent. He cannot let Gondor down.
Later, that evening, Faramir found Merry; sitting not by himself this time, but with Bergil and they were speaking about life in the Shire. Faramir was gladdened by this scene and even smiled. However, Éowyn did not come to join them while they let the dark sky devour them as they waited for another day, maybe a day that would give them reason to hope.
TBC
I have another part I may post soon.
Thank you to grey_wonderer for her thoughts and to lindahoyland for her beta!
Part II- Faramir deals with his grief and finds some hope too. Lots of h/c and angst....
Bright fire was falling everywhere. It was always hot and steaming now. The once strong foundation of stone was also succumbing to the heat. The white unstained stones were blood filled and everything was crumbling, crumbling!
He found himself stumbling. Fire was everywhere. When had Ithilien burned so hard and so deep?
And where was Boromir? He had seen him go down to the river. His father Denethor, always stern, never a man to show emotion, was openly weeping, holding the broken horn of Gondor, the token that his dear brother had held.
“Then do you wish our places had been exchanged?”
“Yes, for he was no wizard’s pupil while you are - only looking and seeking Mithrandir’s approval. While you left the hobbits wonder witlessly into the Black Land of Mordor, you hastened the destruction of your own land. Why are you such a fool? Never do you seek my counsel-do you always think of your father a dotard and a fool?”
“No, I would never think that way!”
“Burning, burning, all is burning. I will burn too!”
Father, no!”
Denethor did not heed anyone, especially not Faramir. And to Faramir’s horror, Denethor poured oil unto himself and flung himself out the tower.
“NO!!!”
Faramir flung the covers of his blankets on to the floor, and leapt to his feet. He sought his sword but then realized he was in the Houses of Healing and that he had had a most vivid nightmare. It was still the middle of the night.
Sweat had drenched his nightshirt, and he felt foolish to have been so affected by a nightmare as this. Tears pricked his eyes. His shoulder throbbed anew with the sudden movement he made. He was heavy with grief about his father, but he knew better than to blame himself.
His shoulder ached, his head hurt, and suddenly he felt very alone in this world. He walked slowly over to the window that faced eastwards. It was deepest blackness outside with not a star or the moon to illuminate the night sky. The Captains of the West had marched away for two days now and there was no word. He had had an engrossing conversation with the Hobbit Meriadoc yesterday, but he did not confide in anyway and with anyone about how hollow he felt with his brother and now father gone from the circles of Arda. Grieve while he may when there was still uncertainty that they would win against Mordor. It would be a bitter spring to be without family and without hope.
During the time in Osgiliath, he was busy directing the Rangers of Ithilien and did not have time to properly grieve, but now he felt the great emptiness of not having his older brother here anymore. And to hear how his father had perished was too much to endure.
Tears streamed down his eyes, which made his headache worse. He wept freely. He walked back tentatively to his bed and felt older than his years. If only he had someone to talk with, someone who understood grief and loss as he did. Faramir took a deep breath. He laid back down in bed and felt the headache was not as intense now as the throbbing on his shoulder. His physical health had improved greatly since Aragorn had seen him three days ago, but sometimes when it was quiet at night, he would feel some of the after effects of the Black Breath. The head nurse, Amarie, who was assigned to him, would still come to check how he was during the day, making sure he took the necessary pain medication and willow bark and Echinacea teas to prevent any fever.
The wound was healing well, but there would most likely be a scar till the end of his days of where the arrow had penetrated. He shuddered to think that he could have perished. He still felt a slither of hope that there would be a better future of Gondor.
But now, he would think of how tragic both his father and brother’s deaths were and remember them. Even though he was not close to Denethor, he still felt the loss and he was shocked at the madness that drove his father to the abyss. The grief was unbearable.
He remembered being pulled from a never-ending labyrinth of warped nightmares by Aragorn back into reality when he was under the Black Shadow. It was unlike anything that he had felt. Was he on the edge of death before? He did not know entirely, but he knew Aragorn’s intentions were good and he could lead Gondor and the Northern Kingdoms back to the glory that they once had. He felt indebted and in Aragorn’s service after he had saved his life. He could not explain the trust and confidence, but he knew that if Aragorn came back, he would make sure there would be a smooth transition.
He felt more at ease on thinking about the hopeful future that might be if the War was won. However, sleep did not come easily for the nightmare had made him anxious and troubled. How might matters have been different had he went to Imladris? How might it have been different had they successfully defended Osgliath? There was hope, but fear was yet stronger as the dark forces were pouring forth to quench any hope of a positive spring for Gondor and also Middle-earth. It would be a bitter spring, indeed, if the Dark Lord crushed Gondor’s forces and if the Ring were found.
Faramir was weary, but he could not close his eyes, for fear that his father would still haunt him in his dreams with taunts that he could never hope to be as good as his brother. His eyes grew heavy and tired from weeping as much as he did. Eventually he fell into an uneasy sleep.
~~~
The morning came but gave no respite from Faramir’s dark thoughts. Faramir did not rise when the nurse entered nor when breakfast came. He felt too tired and out of sorts, less hopeful than how he had felt yesterday and the day before when he was speaking with the Hobbit and about Lady Éowyn.
“My Lord?” Amarie was standing by his bed seemingly wanting to give him his medicine.
But he was in a fey mood and feigned sleep; he hoped that everyone would leave him be for the moment. He would worry about his responsibilities when the King returned. If he returned.
But his nurse was insistent.
“My Lord Faramir; you are warmer than expected at the moment. We need to change your dressing and you need to wake up to take your medicine. Lord Faramir!”
Blearily he opened his eyes. Amarie examined his wound, checked his pulse and placed some cooling cloths on his head. He did not feel like protesting.
Amarie was young, with brown hair, brown eyes and small stature. She was a kindly woman, directly under Ioreth in supervising him and making sure he would get better. She was the head nurse, second only to Ioreth in skill. There were a handful of people from the city who visited him each day, and all were anxious for his health. Bergil would come as well, representing Beregond, who he knew was devoted to him. Today, he did not feel like any visitors.
“Sorry, I did not sleep too well last night.” Faramir yawned, and he felt the throbbing intensely in his shoulder and he felt warmer than expected. “Please tell my visitors that I wish to be alone today.”
“You do not look as well as yesterday. We will only bother you for a little while now,” Amarie replied.
She changed his bandages, and he acquiesced to the willow bark tea that was prepared for him. He did not have an appetite though and laid back down and closed his eyes.
“My lord, you have to eat this late breakfast that Ioreth ordered for you.”
“I will later; I am quite tired now,” replied Faramir drowsily.
“I will be back in half hour; it is quite late, my Lord, and you haven’t eaten today,” Amarie insisted.
“I will eat later, I promise,” replied Faramir and with those words he fell asleep again.
When Faramir woke later that day, it was an hour past noon, but he felt better physically. Amarie and Ioreth were both there chiding him to eat and he did. He took a bite of his meal they had brought back for him, and Amarie checked his vital signs.
After the meal and some tea, he felt well enough to get up. He never liked being idle, even though he was still ordered to take it easy each day.
“Even if you feel up to, please do not overtax yourself, my Lord! You weren’t yourself this morning. We cannot rule out a relapse and remember, you were pulled from the Black Shadow only recently!” Ioreth reprimanded.
“Very well, I will take care,” replied Faramir as he looked out his window.
He remembered that he would like to meet the Lady Éowyn if he could. The one thought that kept his hope alive was that there that there might be someone in whose company he could keep the darkness at bay. This also motivated to keep his strength up. He did not quite understand why he was so drawn to her, especially at their first meeting when she seemed so ill at ease for being in the Houses of Healing.
After walking around his room, he did not feel strong enough yet to venture out to the Gardens. He sat wearily back on his bed. He resolved he would take a walk during the evening. He had hoped Merry would be there again and they would look out for the Lady of Rohan together.
Afternoon turned to early evening when Faramir took another nap.
There was a hollow darkness and a great shadow that sought to overcome Gondor. Dark waves threaten to drown Gondor. But how could that be? That was only of Numenor long ago. Surely Gondor did not suffer from the same fate?
Faramir awoke with a start, beads of sweat on his forehead. He blinked and saw the familiar surroundings of his room. The darkness in the dream had an uninviting look, and it scared him because he felt like he would fall into it if he didn’t wake up in time.
“My lord?” Amarie was beside him, her brown eyes wide with concern. “Are you all right? It is time for dinner. It was just a dream.” She brought him some tea.
“I dreamt of ruin and destruction,” Faramir trembled and spoke slowly between sips of the tea and water that Amarie had brought for him.
“Do not despair, my lord,” Amarie replied. “There is a leader that went off to the Black Gate. He will not let us down. I’ve heard that he pulled you back from the brink of death. The worst is over.”
“I’ve heard that too,” Faramir lay back down. Snatches of the nightmare were receding, but he still feared for his people. He missed Boromir who made him feel better despite all the challenges that Gondor faced throughout the years. Boromir always knew the reassuring words to say to make him feel better despite all the obstacles that Gondor faced. Now he hoped he had not failed Gondor.
Amarie felt Faramir’s forehead. “Aye, sir, you are still feeling too warm. Let me check your shoulder. You should not be feverish anymore, but you still are which I am concerned about. Are you feeling ill?”
“No, I am well enough. I will eat dinner and then go out to the Gardens,” Faramir was keen to show that he was better. He was just weary, and he did not feel like idling. Just those dreams had made him uneasy.
“I will eat by the window, so please bring my tray there,” said Faramir as he sat up and motioned to the window facing East.
“Do not worry overmuch; you need to keep getting better, my Lord. Gondor needs its Steward to lead us,” said Amarie gently.
“You are right, don’t worry about me,” replied Fararmir. He felt a sense of responsibility that he had to take once he was one hundred percent. He cannot let Gondor down.
Later, that evening, Faramir found Merry; sitting not by himself this time, but with Bergil and they were speaking about life in the Shire. Faramir was gladdened by this scene and even smiled. However, Éowyn did not come to join them while they let the dark sky devour them as they waited for another day, maybe a day that would give them reason to hope.
TBC