Faramir Fiction Archive

Seeking (G)

Written by Shireling

27 June 2005 | 45981 words

Chapter 5 >

Warriors do not make good patients!

I have been in the position of patient enough times in the past to know that to have a man of action under ones care is enough to drive a healer to distraction. And just as I chafed under the restrictions of the sick room, Faramir is now faced with enduring the frustration of enforced idleness. I try to hide my mirth at his predicament, for it is really so endearing to see him pout and fume against the restrictions laid upon him by Lord Elrond but I have made it clear to him that I will brook no argument about it, Lord Elrond’s orders are to be obeyed.

It has been four days now since Faramir emerged from the haze of drug-induced oblivion and awoke to the distress of finding me attending to his care. It was never my intention to cause him such distress, though I believe that the extremity of his reaction was due in part to the disorientating effects of the drugs.

It was a relief to me that he finally gave vent to his emotions and allowed himself the comfort of Legolas’ arms; my dear Elf has such a large and open heart and I know that Faramir has lodged for himself a clear place in the Prince of Mirkwood’s affections. I am saddened that I have failed to engage his confidence but I will not allow myself to be discouraged; I have had to cultivate patience in my life and I will put those skills to use now.

It was at my Ada’s suggestion that I continued to tend to Faramir, offering him my attentions in a healer’s capacity. My first instinct had been to back away and not risk causing Faramir further upset but my Ada is wise and he saw what I did not, that Faramir needed to see that I thought him worthy of my care and attentions and that by holding back I would be reinforcing his feelings of insecurity and lack of self-worth.

He is healing well, he is regaining strength and function in his arms, though he is still in a degree of pain, a fact that he is reluctant to admit; stubborn, stubborn man! For that reason Lord Elrond has refused until now to allow him to move back into his own chambers, afraid that once away from the beady eyes of the healers and attendants he will begin overtaxing his limitations and undoing the progress thus far.

Now that he is on the way to recovery, we have developed a plan to help ease him back into the comradeship of our company. Since his waking four days ago he has declined all company except Legolas and that only because my determined Elf would not allow himself to be turned away. I suspect that his refusal to see visitors had more to do with his feelings of embarrassment at his perceived weakness than his claims of tiredness.

All is set and we now wait for Legolas to set the scheme in motion .The rest of our company are still in the main dining hall finishing supper, Legolas has gone to the Houses of Healing to see Faramir and I am waiting in Arwen’s reception room. The room is large with glazed doors overlooking a large patio; there is a fireplace at each end of the room giving a warm welcoming ambiance. Easy chairs and sofas are grouped together around small tables.

I observe Legolas entering, carrying Faramir. Faramir is dressed in his nightshirt and an ankle-length woollen robe and Legolas has a blanket draped over his shoulder. I watch as he settles Faramir onto a smallish sofa near one of the fireplaces, swinging the Steward’s legs along the seat, plumping the cushions at his back and finally tucking the blanket around Faramir’s legs.

“Would you please stop fussing? You are worse than the nurses!” Ah, Faramir is still on fine form, his irritation taking the form of belligerence.

“Temper, temper. I thought you wanted to escape from that ‘blasted place’, as you so delicately put it!”

“You said you were taking me to my room!”

“I am… .later! I thought you could do with some company,” Legolas teased.

“Blasted, infuriating Elf!”

“Is there a problem, My Lord?” I couldn’t hold back a chuckle as Faramir realised that they were not alone in the room.

“No… no problem, Sire… .except that I fear I am being manipulated… you wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you, Sire!”

“Who me! I hope you are not suggesting I would stoop to underhand practices!” I couldn’t quite catch his reply and from the blush that bloomed across his cheeks I suspect that ignorance is bliss.

“Are you comfortable, Faramir?” I asked, the healer in me coming forth as I felt his pulse and touched the back of my fingers to his brow.

“I’m fine, Sire. Though I feel woefully underdressed… I would be more ‘comfortable’ in my own chambers!” he fumed. I smiled and left him to pout and mutter to himself.

One by one the rest of our company drifted into the room, their arrival carefully and discretely orchestrated by Arwen so as not to overwhelm the invalid.

Frodo was the first to arrive. “Oh, Faramir, it is lovely to see you. I have missed your company!” the Ring-bearer said, bestowing his most winning smile on Faramir. “You don’t mind if I join you, do you?”

Without waiting for a reply, Frodo scrambled up onto the far end of Faramir’s sofa and settled himself against the arm, wriggling until he had the cushions organised to his satisfaction. Faramir had drawn up his feet to make room for Frodo and was about to swing his legs round when, without warning, Frodo picked up one foot and then the other and settled them in his lap. When it seemed that Faramir would protest, Frodo merely wagged his finger and shushed him, pulling the blanket and tucking it around Faramir’s ‘poor, bare toes’. The look on Faramir’s face was a picture and both Legolas and I had to turn away to hide our smiles.

Each new arrival made a point of greeting Faramir before moving away and making themselves comfortable. Last to arrive, Arwen welcomed Faramir with a kiss on the cheek before going to join her brothers outside on the patio. I took an easy chair by the fireside where I could observe Faramir without my scrutiny being too obvious.

He was watchful; he could see most of the room and its occupants from his position. He often closed his eyes as though focussing his attention or maybe just distancing himself from his surroundings. I noticed that Frodo’s hands were almost unconsciously running over Faramir’s feet, massaging them in a manner that mimicked Sam’s frequent attention to Frodo’s feet at the end of a long day’s march on the quest; a tender expression of care.

“Frodo, is Pippin alright?” Faramir had been observing the younger Hobbit for some time, a puzzled expression on his face. Pippin was standing near the other fireplace watching Merry and Gimli battle each other over a game of strategy. Pippin was moving restlessly, shifting his weight from foot to foot as though uncomfortable.

“Ay, I believe so, why do you ask?”

“He seems a little agitated, not quite his usual self,” Faramir said. “Has he been on duty today? Perhaps he is over tired!”

“Perhaps you should ask him, Faramir!” Frodo looked over to me and gave a wicked grin.

“Pippin!” Frodo called his younger cousin over. “Pippin, Faramir wants to know if you are all right! He is worried that you seem a little subdued!” Pippin blushed spectacularly and cast his elder cousin a ferocious frown of disgust.

“Is everything alright, Pippin?” Faramir reached out and beckoned Pippin to his side. Everyone else in the room was studiously ignoring the conversation though several faces sported knowing grins. Pippin leaned in and whispered something to Faramir.

“He Did What!”

“Shush, it’s not like I need everyone to know, Faramir!”

“But I don’t understand! Why did he do that?” Faramir cast a furious frown in my direction. I merely raised an eyebrow in return.

“He had his reasons… though I felt it was totally unnecessary, a total overreaction on his part!” the little Took sniffed.

“Pippin, a moment!” I said calling him over to me. “A total overreaction?” I questioned sternly. He blushed prettily and had the grace to look chastened.

“No, Sire. I deserved it.” He whispered.

“I should say you did, Little Sir. Now I forgave you… have you forgiven me?” I asked him. My answer was to be seized in a mighty Tookish hug.

“Of course, Strider” he whispered, planting a soggy kiss on my cheek. I batted him away with a swat on his behind for his cheek and winked at Faramir who sat watching me with a look of stunned disbelief on his face.

For some time Faramir rested with his eyes closed, though with a look of puzzled concentration as though trying to figure out a complicated conundrum. I left him to his silent contemplation, knowing that his famed insight and keen intellect would work at this puzzle until he formulated an answer.

It was such a simple answer and yet, given his background, I was unsure if he would recognise it in its simplicity.

I had been trying to work out how to broach this subject and now Pippin had innocently raised the matter in his own inimitable fashion. Pippin had been called to account earlier for an ill-considered action, an action that had earned him a session of my ‘loving attention’; a meaningful and painful spanking. And yet clearly Pippin was not afraid of me, had not forfeited my affection or respect nor had he lost his respect or affection for me. He had atoned for his actions, been forgiven and the matter was now behind us.

Such a simple truth. I wondered how long it would take for Faramir to realise that I wanted that truth for him!

“Is everything alright, Faramir?” Legolas was at Faramir’s side and was watching his friend with a look of quiet contemplation.

“I would like to retire now.” Faramir whispered, struggling to release his legs from the folds of the blanket and swing them to the floor. Legolas looked to me for confirmation and I nodded; it would not do to allow Faramir to become over tired.

“NO! I will not be carried!” Faramir hissed; he was on his feet and doing his best to push Legolas away. Seeing that this could progress to a scene, Legolas backed away slightly but kept a hand under Faramir’s elbow.

“You may walk as far as the door, My Lord… and no, you do not want to argue with me!” Legolas was clearly in no mood to tolerate any more petulant behaviour from his charge.

Faramir’s pout was impressive but he hadn’t the energy or the strength to fight a determined Elf. He bowed and made his unsteady progress to the door, leaning heavily on Legolas for support. Lord Elrond watched them leave and rose to follow them.

“Legolas I insist you put me down this instant!” Faramir’s complaint could be heard from the corridor. “Now, Sir… . I insist you Put. Me. Down!”

“Insist away… but bear in mind that if you aggravate me further I will return you to the Houses of Healing and not your own chambers!”

“You would not dare countermand Lord Elrond’s instructions!” Faramir’s whine could be heard as they proceeded along the corridor.

“Lord Elrond can and will change his instructions if he thinks it necessary!” I heard said Elf Lord insist as he followed them

I had to smile to myself, all in all the evening had gone better than I could have expected.

There has been no repeat of Faramir’s outburst of emotion following his waking in the Houses of Healing; indeed the episode has never been referred to between us. I am not sure how much of that time he even remembers and I will not risk embarrassing him by reminding him of it. I do, however, hold the memory close to my heart and with each remembrance a small glow warms within me, a promise for the future.

He remains quiet and watchful. Since his return to his own chambers his recovery has progressed to the point that he is now able to resume most of his former duties, though, to his unvoiced disgust, he has not yet been passed fit to return to active duties, nor is he allowed to ride out beyond the limit of the Pelennor without an Elven escort.

I have been assisting him in his recovery; Lord Elrond instructed me in how to assist Faramir to exercise his shoulder and arm muscles to help him regain strength and full mobility and each afternoon we spend an hour or two exercising and sparing together.

We have achieved a level of understanding that allows us to spend time in easy companionship. He is now comfortable with my presence, though he never actually seeks me out. I would not yet say that he sees me as a friend. He never opens up to me on personal matters nor will he ever talk about his past though I try to give him as many openings as possible.

There are still so many grief’s and tragic remembrances locked up inside his heart and keeping them hidden takes constant vigilance on his part but he has perfected the art of concealment so well that it is only in his most unguarded moments that a hint of his true pain is evidenced. He is locked in an emotional wilderness, unable to share his pain and bewildered by his inability to join in the relief and the joy that the victory over darkness has brought to others.

Because of his incapacity, Faramir missed the next council meeting and so was not there to witness Lord Harmil’s final appearance as a servant of the Crown. The Lord presented his Census report as instructed and it did indeed appear to be most thorough, though it was not enough for Estel to rescind his instruction and the Lord was ‘allowed’ to tender his resignation. The episode did have one positive consequence, Estel was so impressed with how much more efficient it was to have all matters presented in writing that he has made it a standing instruction that in future all routine business be dealt with in this manner; a welcome change that has halved the pointless discussion and bickering that so marred earlier Council meetings. Meetings that in the past dragged on all day are now completed within a few hours.

I could tell that Faramir was dreading his first appearance before the Council. He only picked at his breakfast and was even more quiet than usual. There was little that I could do to ease his apprehension except offer him the support of my company. Estel gave him the opportunity to say his piece at the commencement of the meeting before we started on other business.

He did so well, his apology was dignified and heartfelt. Sitting next to him I could feel the tension thrumming through him though to all outward appearances he appeared calm and collected. Estel gave him a small smile of acknowledgement as he retook his seat and Faramir slumped down, finally allowing the apprehension to drain away. At the end of the morning when Estel drew the meeting to a close, Faramir made to leave with the rest of the councillors.

“My Lord Steward, a moment please!” Faramir’s reaction to Estel’s request was to come to attention, his eyes fixed on the floor at his feet. Estel flashed me a sad sigh for it was clear that Faramir was expecting to be chastised.

“Faramir?” Estel waited until Faramir finally met his gaze.

“Yes, Sire!”

“You did well today. I’m proud of you. You handled that very well.” Estel praised.

Faramir’s face was a picture. A fierce blush spread across his cheeks and I could see his eyes filling at the unexpected praise.

“Thank-thank you, Sire… .please-please excuse me!” He snapped a smart salute and turned on his heel, retreating quickly before those traitorous tears had time to fall. I would have followed him but Estel stopped me.

“Give him a moment, my friend… some lessons are better absorbed in private.”

Over the next few days I watched Faramir carefully, conscious of an increasing degree of tension about him. There was no obvious cause for his increasingly subdued manner; the council meeting had gone well, his changes of the military were proceeding as planned and his strength was improving daily. Even the Warden’s pronouncement that he could resume active service seemed to do little to improve his mood. At Estel’s insistence, Faramir continued to join in the social gatherings of our company though he was always the first to excuse himself, often proclaiming tiredness. And he had reason to be tired, for I know that his sleep is often disturbed.

I find it difficult to rest within the chamber allocated to me and so on warm nights I often spend the quiet hours in the Queen’s garden or in the shelter of one of the tall trees, finding peace and rest amongst their sheltering branches. On several occasions my reverie has been disturbed by distressed cries coming from Faramir’s chambers. When I have gone to investigate I have found Faramir trapped within the grip of some fearful nightmare, gripped by terrors that have his writhing and calling out for his lost family. Boromir’s name is most often on his lips but he also calls pitifully for his father and mother. He seems to calm and relax at my soothing and falls back into peaceful slumber without ever being aware of my presence, for I make sure to slip away at dawn before he awakes.

Common sense warns me that I should perhaps bring this to Estel’s or Lord Elrond’s attention but I fear to invade his privacy any more than I have already done. I am reluctant to strain the tentative trust that has developed between us.

I will continue to watch and wait and hope that I can defuse the crisis that I fear is looming.

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