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Seeking (G) Print

Written by Shireling

27 June 2005 | 45981 words

Warnings: Spanking. Non Slash.
Summary: In the first days of the Fourth Age, Estel and Legolas seek to help Faramir to break away from the shadows of the past.

Disclaimer: These beloved characters belong to the genius of JRR Tolkien. Sadly, I borrow them only for a while and promise to give them back in one piece.

Archivist’s Note: See also the sequel “Paying the Piper


Chapter 1

It is an odd sensation, to find myself in this great city in the aftermath of war. I am not accustomed to being confined within a city of men. In all the long years of my life I have been a creature of the outdoors, a being in tune with the natural rhythm of weather, tree and beast and even stone; the halls of my father’s realm delve deep into the earth, though they have been wrought to be light and airy. But the great city of Minas Tirith is like no other place I have encountered and though the people have welcomed us unto themselves I cannot warm to its cold and cloistered confines.

I can sense the anguish that remains. The fear and grief of these good people, so long beleaguered by the shadow of Mordor, has seeped into the very fabric of the buildings. The wounds that scar the once proud and noble facades are too fresh and too extensive to be healed without much toil and there are few able hands to tend to those wounds.

And wounds in stone must needs take second place when there are so many wounded in heart and body and spirit who need the salve of compassion and understanding to heal their hurts.

And what of the people!

They endure.

They endure because there is no alternative. They cheer for the King and for his beautiful Elven bride. They pick up the pieces of their shattered pasts; hopeful that the new regime holds a promise for the future; a future that they must face despite the losses that they have weathered. They pull together; the grieved, the bereft, the crippled, the widows, the orphans. All casualties in need of succour.

So many emotions tangle and boil amidst the chaos and destruction, perhaps the most obvious being relief; relief at the ending of the hostilities and fear, relief as loved ones are reunited and homes and businesses reclaimed, even the tainted relief for the bereaved of knowing finally that they can allow themselves the balm of freely expressed grief, that they can grieve for those who never came home. And yet for every citizen, from the highest to the lowest, the aftermath is a unique and personal experience and, while they may find empathy and support from their fellows, in the lonely, silent hours of the night the enormity of their loss must be born alone. Acceptance and the will to face a future never anticipated is a battle to be faced and conquered.

What can one Elf do in the midst of such need?

I share in the grief as I share in the jubilation. I watch as my beloved friend and companion takes on the mantle of his inheritance and assumes his destiny. But I don’t yet see my place, my role. As my father’s representative I am honoured; as one of the nine walkers I am celebrated, but what of me, what of Legolas?

Estel has promised that I may set up my own settlement and begin to heal the fair forests and lands of Ithilien and I relish the prospect, but that is a task for the future. For I must first seek my Father’s blessing and ascertain if there are other Elves who would wish to delay their departure to the West and assist me in the task. I wish also to keep my promise to my dear friend Gimli and travel with him so that we may share with each other our heritage of tree and stone.

I cannot offer my help to the whole city and so I must look closer to home and assist those within our own circle who still shoulder the greatest burdens in these first tentative weeks of peace.

There are two within the King’s entourage whose anguish, though courageously buried, calls out to me. My heart weeps when I catch a glimpse of their pain; when their rigid control slips and their eyes reveal the depth of their torment; a torment they hide to protect us, their friends and loved ones, from the guilt of our impotence.

For we could not protect them, we could not shield them from their pain and sorrow; we could not carry their burdens or share their fates. And so these two gentle and fragile souls still seek to protect us from the burden of our own guilt.

Of the two, Frodo carries the greater physical consequences of his trials. Despite the combined ministrations of the King, Lord Elrond, Gandalf and the master healers of the city he is slow to recover from his ordeal. The burns and lacerations from the last dreadful days in Mordor are now little more than reddened scars and the stump of his missing finger has healed. But his light is dimmed and no amount of healing potions and nourishing food will rekindle that light. Frodo is broken and there is no power on Middle-earth that can rekindle the bright spark of his unique spirit. But Frodo knows that he is loved; he is surrounded by those who would gladly give their lives for his ease and while love cannot heal him, he draws strength from the devotion of his friends.

And the other wounded soul? Faramir, the King’s newly appointed Steward; beloved brother of our dear friend Boromir and son of Denethor. His battles were not fought within the supportive bonds of the fellowship, he fought his battles alone; his brother taken from him, his father disdainful and dismissive, his beloved Rangers slaughtered around him as he battled to keep them and his city safe from the enemy.

If he has ever known joy in his life it has left little mark upon him. He carries his grief and his pain buried deep within himself; it adds a tragic and beautiful stillness to his aura for those who have the eyes to see, for those who can see through the mask of impenetrable calm he has cultivated, of necessity, to protect himself. I am not even sure that he considers himself one of our number. He hovers on the periphery of our company, a still and silent shadow who has yet to realise that we would all welcome him to ourselves if he would only accept the hands that reach out to offer him friendship.

And yet I would not want to give the impression that he is dismissive or disdainful of our company. He is unfailingly polite, painfully shy and almost pathologically deferential, particularly when in the company of the King and his closest companions. I have watched him and seen his almost bewildered awe when in the company of the noble Elves, as if he cannot believe this to be a waking reality; that these beings out of myth and legend are actually gracing the walls of his city with their presence.

To see him going about the endless tasks of restoring the city is to see a different man entirely. He spends many hours each day down in the lower circles of the city where the damage and destruction were greatest. He sees and endeavours to relieve the suffering of those left homeless, bereft and destitute. He coaxes and encourages the exhausted workers with his compassion and force of personality. He addresses the men by name and they work all the harder under the benevolence of his approval. Though he is not yet fully recovered from his own injuries and has yet to be passed as fit for return to active service he continues to oversee the reordering of the military. It is clear that whilst the King commands the respect and duty of the men of Gondor, Faramir has their hearts; he leads by example and they would, and did, follow him to death for the honour of being by his side.

He dispenses compassion and understanding and yet he neither seeks nor accepts it for himself. Before her departure for Rohan, I took to observing him when in the company of Éowyn and whilst it is clear that during their time together they had formed a close bond, their courtship, if that is what it is, was chaste and almost formal, only the brightening of his smile giving hint of his pleasure in her company. He treated her with the utmost gentleness and decorum and would appear almost startled if she took his hand or laced her arm through his as they walked, almost as if any tender, physical contact were unknown to him. This thought is born out by his reaction to the Hobbits. He is clearly drawn by their charm and gentle good humour and yet he is discomforted by their easy and unconscious physicality, by their tactile and rambunctious nature, especially that of Merry and Pippin; Frodo and Sam, I think, he finds easier company because they are by nature and by adversity more subdued than their Shire comrades.

He is an enigma. And I find myself drawn to him in a way I find hard to explain. I have known few mortals in the long years of my life and yet in this kind, gentle, troubled young man I feel a kindred spirit. He reminds me of another, of my dear friend Estel in his younger days, when he was confused and haunted by a destiny he neither sought nor wanted.

Perhaps this then is my role, to help guide this troubled soul back from the darkness of his isolation and to embrace a future that he never believed he would live to see, to show him that he is worthy of the love and friendship of his companions. I needs must resist the temptation of my heart to rush in and scoop him up into the protection of my embrace for I know that he could not yet accept that care. I must let my head rule my heart, for this battle requires a long term strategy, there will be no quick solutions, no easy answers and I will need the support and guidance of those who also care for Faramir to help me achieve victory.


If I am honest, I never gave much thought to the practicalities of ruling a Kingdom. For too long, from the moment I learned of my birthright, I fought against my heritage. I neither wanted nor expected this eventuality to come to pass and yet it seems the fates would have none of my feeble denials and I now find myself, against all odds, anointed and crowned, High King of Gondor. It is, at times, overwhelming but I am fortunate to be surrounded by a host of learned and supportive friends and kinsmen all eager to offer me their guidance and experience; Gandalf, Lord Elrond, The Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood, Legolas and Gimli, my beautiful Arwen plus the Nobles and Councillors of Gondor; Prince Imrahil, Lord Húrin and, not least, my newly appointed Steward, Faramir. With their support these first few weeks have seen great steps taken towards ordering the city and helping the people, my people, on the path towards recovery.

Lord Faramir has achieved great things since he discharged himself from the healers care in the immediate aftermath of the fall of the Dark Lord. In the weeks before our arrival in the city he set about the task of preparing for the Coronation, organising the shelter of the homeless, the distribution of aid and food to the needy and organising accommodation for the expected host; all the while overseeing the defence and security of the city and its immediate surroundings and all this without the expectation of further office, for he assumed that the title and office of Steward would become obsolete upon my taking the throne.

I’m not sure that he entirely welcomed the prospect when I handed him back the Steward’s Rod of Office; if he had given any thought to the future I am sure it did not include tying himself to administrative duties within the White City. But duty has ever ruled his life and he took back the Rod with dignity and honour.

He has already proved to be an invaluable asset to me. He has a keen, scholarly mind; quick, incisive and intuitive. He can see through the convoluted intricacies of protocol and accepted practice, seeking practical solutions to problems that the councillors would argue about for hours; a trait that often fails to endear him to the staid and hidebound statesmen of the old Steward’s Council and they are not slow to show their antagonism.

I have spent a good deal of time in his company on official business and yet I have so far failed to break through his reserve to glimpse the man beneath. He is as much a stranger to me now as he was the day I first laid eyes on him in the House’s of Healing. I have heard much of him from others; from Boromir on our travels, from his uncle Prince Imrahil and from the campfire recollections of the men who considered it an honour to have served with him over many years. All speak highly of his courage and integrity, of his compassion, of his skills as a commander, of his gentle and self effacing nature, of his love for Gondor and for his beloved brother and of his tireless, if fruitless efforts to please his uncompromising and intransigent Father.

I worry about him and I note that others share my concern. When Éowyn was with us he was drawn into our company, though he was always at pains not to draw attention to himself, almost as if he felt he was trespassing uninvited. When the party from Rohan returned to their own lands he again withdrew, seeking his own council and company, losing himself in an endless round of duties that ‘demanded’ his attention. He was so clearly uncomfortable at being included in our informal social gatherings that I hadn’t the heart to insist that he attend, not wanting to add to his discomfiture. Only Arwen’s gentle persuasion occasionally drew him into our circle.

Only once have I caught a glimpse of him in a truly unguarded moment. Arwen had arranged a picnic in one of the larger courtyard gardens near to the Royal Apartments where Sam and Legolas had been working together to restore some order to the neglected borders. It was a lively party and I noticed that Gandalf and Faramir had drawn aside to a secluded bench to converse quietly. They were too far away for me to hear any of their conversation but at some point Lord Elrond had drifted over to them and had joined in what was becoming a quite animated discussion. I noted that Legolas had also noticed the exchange and was observing with a look of quiet relief. Faramir’s outburst of musical laughter was so unexpected and so delightful that it caused everyone else to quiet and still, all turning their attention to see what had affected him so.

In the space between one heartbeat and the next Faramir became aware of the scrutiny and he froze, closing in upon himself tighter than a clamshell, from carefree banter one minute to the closed, neutral façade that we all recognised so well, the next. It was heartbreaking to witness. He mumbled an apology, though he had committed no error, and no amount of urging from Gandalf or my Ada would keep him there. He fled.

For several days I saw him only on official business, his manner formal and awkward; he had obviously decided to keep a low profile, managing to evade the benign but persistent attentions of at least one Elf and several Hobbits. I sought council with both Gandalf and Lord Elrond, for I was feeling out of my depth with the situation and, though they shared my increasing concerns, they could offer no easy solution; Faramir’s difficulties had been a lifetime in the making; circumstances plus his inherent personality conspiring to force him to seek sanctuary deep within himself as a means of self preservation. As a strategy it had been successful but the emotion toll had been high, eating away at his self-esteem, leaving him in a bleak emotional wilderness.

As Faramir was obviously still not comfortable in my company I decided to utilise the ‘services’ of others in our company to draw him out. My first secret weapon was Frodo. I knew that not even Faramir could fail to fall to the Ringbearer’s gentle charms. I suggested to Frodo that Faramir was the ideal person to introduce him to the delights of the archives. Frodo jumped at the suggestion and was quick to request Faramir’s help and company and thereafter they spent many afternoons in quiet and relaxed companionship, sometimes talking and discussing various texts, sometimes quietly enjoying the peace, sometimes dozing and always with Sam as a silent but watchful guardian, fussing over them both and ensuring their ease. They both seemed to gain comfort from each other’s company, perhaps recognising in each other a kindred spirit.

My other plan of attack was to enlist the aid of Legolas. I was already aware that my fair Elf had taken a special interest in helping Faramir, though so far he had made little progress. From discussions with the Warden of the Houses of Healing I knew that Faramir was not yet fully recovered from the effects of his injuries, the wound from the Southron’s Dart had healed well but he was left with residual stiffness and loss of power in his shoulder and he had yet to regain his previous level of fitness. I suggested to Legolas that he offer to assist Faramir on the training field; to spar with him, to ride and to utilise their mutual skills and love of archery on the practice ranges in helping Faramir to regain his strength and hone his skills. It was a start; few can resist Legolas when he is on a mission.

Only time will tell if my strategies will bear fruit and draw Faramir out of his isolation and into the circle of friendship and care that are his due.

Chapter 2

Problems, when they occur, often seem to come out of the blue and this one was no exception. And yet, as I stand in the shadows and watch this confrontation unfold before me, I wonder if I had missed the warning signs, if I could have intervened at an earlier stage and prevented this turn of events.

Perhaps I should have seen this coming. I think perhaps we underestimated Faramir; underestimated his fierce determination to prove himself and to reassert his independence. I’m not sure, even now, that he considers his actions to have been ill-considered or maybe it just never occurred to him that others would take enough interest in his actions to call him to account.

If that is the case then his well known talent for reading the hearts of others has sadly let him down. For now he stands before his Liege Lord and must answer for his actions.

It was at the morning meal that the first hint of trouble occurred. Estel had instituted these working breakfasts, informal gatherings of his closest friends and advisors during which plans for the day could be discussed and outstanding business attended to. Attendance wasn’t compulsory but it was clearly understood that absences were not encouraged. Faramir was, of course, included in those expected and it was his habit to take a report from the duty Guard Commander at first light so that he could then make an up to date report to the King.

This morning, the morning of a full council meeting, Faramir failed to appear and the Guard Commander came in person to give the duty report. The King heard the man out in silence, concern clouding his features.

“Thank you, Captain. Is Lord Faramir indisposed?”

“I know not, Sire. My instructions were to report to you directly.”

“Did Lord Faramir issue you those instructions himself?”

“No Sire, I believe he left them with the garrison Commander before he rode out to Osgiliath.”

“And when was that?”

“I believe it was yesterday, Sire, though I was not on duty then.”

“Thank you, Captain. Notify the guards on the gate that Lord Faramir is to report to me directly upon his return.”

The Captain saluted and made a hasty retreat. Estel sent a page to summon the Steward’s secretary. It is not often that Estel displays his anger and yet now he was clearly beyond exasperation, pacing up and down restlessly and growling to himself under his breath.

“Sire, you wished to see me?” Faramir’s secretary, a career administrator inherited from the Old Steward’s retinue, was a man well used to dealing with temperamental rulers and he stood alert and watchful, his expression neutral. The King’s pacing brought him to a standstill in front of the man.

“I take it Lord Faramir was aware of today’s council meeting?”

“Yes, Sire. All the necessary documentation was prepared and collated before My Lord was called away.

“And where and what was so important that Lord Faramir had to rush off without my knowledge or leave!” he all but shouted. The man was not in the least bit intimidated.

“I know not the particulars, Sire. Lord Faramir received a message from Captain Beregond in Osgiliath and decided it required his personal attention. He did say that he should be back by nightfall but if he was delayed he would be back in time for the meeting… I’m sure he did not mean to cause any inconvenience, Sire.”

The man was dismissed and I was dispatched to the garrison to find out more details of Faramir’s actions and to arrange for a signal to be sent to Osgiliath ordering his immediate return.

“Estel, calm yourself.” I reassured him upon my return. “There was no general alarm, Osgiliath is not under threat. Faramir left yesterday before noon with an escort and arrived safely. He left Osgiliath at first light and should be here presently.”

“I cannot delay the start of the council, we will start without him and I will deal with this other business later.” Seeing his continued state of agitation I turned him towards me with my hands upon his shoulders, waiting until he met my gaze.

“Peace, my friend, all will be well… hear him out… I’m sure there will be a perfectly reasonable explanation,” I said, rocking him slightly until he returned my smile. I hoped there was an explanation, Estel is very protective of those under his charge, a fact that Faramir has, I fear, yet to learn.

The morning session was drawing to a close by the time we heard the trumpets heralding the Steward’s return. The morning had been reasonably productive with several edicts regarding civic administration being agreed with very little argument; a pleasant change from the normal course of events. I had a sneaking suspicion that the ease with which business was being dealt with had much to do with the fact that in Faramir’s absence much of the procrastination and tedious argument of the councillors was absent… the target of their obfuscations not being present to endure it.

Estel adjourned the meeting, inviting the councillors to take refreshment in the ante-room. Faramir was announced. He saluted smartly and went down on one knee before the King in obeisance, remaining in place with his head bowed until the King raised him up. Under Estel’s intense scrutiny he stood tall, his gaze fixed on the collar of the King’s tunic, his expression impassive. He was clearly exhausted from his exertions and the silence was making him squirm, though his discomfort was internal, his rigid stance not betraying his discomfiture.

“Sire, Please forg… ..!” Estel silenced him with a raise of his hand, clasping the younger man on the shoulder in a gesture of reassurance; a kindly gesture, sadly misinterpreted by its recipient who recoiled from the contact and the threat that the raised hand implied. Estel backed a step allowing the increase in distance to reassure his Steward.

“Lord Faramir, we will discuss your apologies and your actions after the council proceedings are completed. Is there anything urgent I need to be aware of in Osgiliath?” Faramir shook his head “Good, then you will go now and refresh yourself and join the rest of the councillors for lunch.”

Estel joined me at the window, a look of sorrow clouding his face. He gazed out at the sun-drenched city. “He thought I was going to strike him!” he said sadly. “He fears me!”

“No Estel,” I said moving behind him and using my thumbs to massage the tension from his shoulders. “It is not you he fears; your position, maybe, your authority. Remember what you know of his history, of the scars he bears. This is the first time he has found himself called to account by his King… he is reacting on instinct… expecting to be treated as he was by Denethor… old habits are hard to break!” I said with a wry smile, hoping to bring reassurance.

“Thank you my friend, you are ever a source of good council. Would you go to him and make sure that he takes some refreshment before we resume.”

My hopes that the meeting would be drawn to a speedy conclusion were granted, though not under the circumstances I had anticipated. There were only a few items left on the agenda: Faramir’s report on the progress of reordering of the military, Gimli’s report on the rebuilding of the gates and the lower circles and a report from the councillor responsible for the Houses of Healing with regards to funding and staffing of health provision in the city. Before we moved on to these last items the King asked the scribe to briefly run through the main discussions and conclusions of the morning session for Faramir’s benefit.

The scribe had almost completed his recitation and was on the last item when Faramir shot to his feet.

WHAT!” his bellow echoed around the chamber, waking the older councillors from their post-prandial dozing. “Sire, that must be a mistake… you cannot allow this!”

“Lord Faramir, sit down, Sir!” The King ordered.

“But, Sire, this is monstrous… what were you thinking!” I tried to settle him down, recognising, as he did not, that he had gone too far.

“Faramir, sit and calm yourself,” I whispered urgently, pulling him down into his seat and restraining him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Now, My Lord Steward, if you can conduct yourself with a modicum of decorum would you kindly explain your objection to these proposals.”

Estel was fighting to rein in his exasperation. The whole room was deathly quiet but I did not miss the looks of sly triumph that passed between some of the more vociferous of Faramir’s detractors.

Having taken a few moments to compose himself Faramir took a deep breath and began speaking.

“Sire, when I took up my duties at the end of the War, the city was in chaos; civic administration had all but broken down, the city was rudderless with no effective means of relieving the plight of the people; the Captains were fighting to restore order and security and it fell to me to look after the people.” He was on his feet again but he was clearly now in control of himself and he paced to help him maintain his composure.

“Go on Faramir,” The King urged.

“Many people were destitute, without the means even feed themselves and so I decided to take control of all the food stocks within the city and pool the resources to allow for an equitable distribution based on need. This strategy was not without its critics; the few remaining merchants objected to having their livelihoods disrupted,” Faramir growled. At least two of the councillors squirmed uncomfortably in their seats. “This new Edict if it is passed would cause untold suffering. There are many people within the city who still rely on the distribution of food for their survival. If we move back to a free-market it is the most vulnerable of your citizens who will suffer, Sire.”

“I see. Lord Harmil, you tabled this motion, what have you to say to Lord Faramir’s predictions!”

“Sire, with the greatest respect, Lord Faramir is a soldier not an economist,” the Lord smarmed, “and, while I do not doubt that his intentions are honourable, he is not an expert in this matter. I have had many years experience dealing with the economic matters and I had Steward Denethor’s complete confidence. We must allow the merchants to trade freely to ensure the prosperity of the city.” The man sat down, oozing arrogance, sure that he had effectively killed any further discussion.

I could feel the anger vibrating within Faramir’s slender frame as he took his seat and I flashed a warning glance to Estel. Before the King could intercede Faramir was again on the offensive.

“Please Lord Harmil,” he said in a voice of deceptive calm, “just remind the council what business underpins your families fortune… Ah, yes… you are a grain merchant are you not!”

“Why, you impudent young pup, just what are you insinuating,” the irate man roared.

“Nothing, My Lord, I am merely pointing out that you are not without personal interest in this affair… I may only be an ignorant soldier but I know that in times of shortage and hardship the price of essential commodities goes up and the only people to benefit are those who fill their coffers while those around them go hungry!” At this point I feared for the arms of the chair in which Faramir was seated; his white-knuckled grip on the sturdy oak threatening to splinter it to firewood.

I do not think that the noble Lord gave due thought to the consequences of his next ill-considered remark. “You, Sir” he sneered at the Steward, “should not meddle in things you do not understand… go back to playing soldiers with your Ranger friends… Your father was right, target practice for the enemy is all you are good for!” he spat.

They say that Elves can move swiftly but Faramir was swifter than an arrow and the stunned man had hardly finished speaking before his face hit the table, one hand forced high behind his back, Faramir pinning him in place with an arm across his neck. It is fortunate that protocol dictates that no weapons be brought into the chamber for I fear that if Faramir had a blade to hand he would have skewered the man.

The door guards, immediately alert, drew their swords and made to approach the scene of the altercation but the King had them stand down and keep watch.

FARAMIR! Release Him At Once!” The King ordered.

Not many would dare to ignore a direct order from the King but Faramir was beyond reason. I struggled to release his grip on the man, but could do little without risk of injuring him, so strong was his fury.

“My ‘Ranger friends’ are all dead!… hacked and slaughtered, their blood spilled to ensure your safety, their heads used as ammunition by the enemy… They are dead, only a dozen remain out of a garrison of 150… !” he choked. “But you wouldn’t know that would you? You were too busy cowering in you cellar counting your coppers and hoarding your precious supplies.” He was punctuating his words by striking the man’s head against the table.

I had a firm grip now of his shoulders. “Enough now, Faramir! Enough! He is not worth this. Let it go now,” I whispered as I felt him go limp under my hands.

I guided him to his feet and at a brief nod from Estel I led him away to the ante-chamber. Reaction was setting in, he began to shake uncontrollably. He slumped down into a chair near the fire and buried his face in his hands. I wrapped a cloak around his shoulders and poured him a small glass of brandy. I wanted desperately to comfort him in his distress and yet he shrugged away from my touch.

Through the open door I could hear Estel adjourning the meeting.

“Gentlemen! It is clear that we did not give this matter due consideration, that we were not presented with all the relevant information before we made our, seemingly, hasty decisions. I do not take well to being manipulated or to having my Council used to enhance the personal interests of my Councillors!” He stalked down the table to the injured lord and cast a healer’s eye over the damage, dismissing his injuries as minor.

“Lord Harmil, you will prepare and present a full census report of all the citizens of the city and its immediate environs. I want full details of every household and business; income, dependants, professional and practical skills. You will present it to this council a week from today, at the same time as you hand in your resignation. It will be in your interest to ensure that the report is detailed and accurate… I will not hesitate to bring you before this council to face charges of contempt if the results prove to be less than reliable. In the light of today’s events all decisions taken by this council today will be held in abeyance and reconsidered at our next meeting, when I expect to be given the full facts, not just those convenient to your particular concerns. Good day, Gentlemen, this council is adjourned,” he said.

From the doorway I watched as the councillors shuffled out, muttering amongst themselves and throwing disgruntled glances in the direction the Steward had taken. When the room had cleared I saw Estel moved across to speak to the duty guard, they saluted and proceeded to take post beyond the council chamber doors. As Estel dropped heavily into his chair at the table I poured him a drink from the decanter and took it to him.

He nodded his thanks and knocked back the fiery liquid in one swallow.

“How is Faramir?”

“Better. He’s calmed… and he has stopped shaking!” I said with an attempt at humour.

“That was quite a performance! I should have realised that he was unlikely to have escaped the Húrin temperament… Boromir had a short temper and Denethor’s rages were legendary.”

“He was sorely provoked, Estel. The Lord’s words were unforgivable. Lord Harmil has been aggravating him for weeks but I’m not sure even the noble Lord expected quite such a reaction.

“He’ll be reminded every time he looks in the mirror!” Estel sniggered finally cracking a smile. The humour was short lived as he contemplated the events of the day.

“What am I to do with him?” it was a rhetorical question, for I could give him no answers.

“I will leave Faramir in your care, Estel,” I said. “I would not wish to increase his discomfiture by staying to witness your ‘discussions’!” He flashed me a wry grin. “Be gentle with him,” I continued. “His need for your care and understanding is great and I can leave him in no safer hands!”

Chapter 3>

After Legolas took his leave I sat for some time in the deserted council chamber, seeking to calm and order my thoughts. Faramir’s outburst had been shocking because it had been so very unexpected and out of character. Now I had to deal with both his actions in the council and with his decision to ride out to Osgiliath without my knowledge or consent.

Aye, here was another of the burdens of Rule! Who does a King turn to when he cannot see the way forward?

My head tells me that I should treat him as I would my dear Elf had he committed such outrageous and foolhardy actions; to blister his backside until all hint of rebellion and guilt have been blasted away and then to comfort him and reassure him of my continued and everlasting love and support.

But my heart tells me I cannot treat Faramir in that manner. He already fears me! And though he would submit should I order him to, it would not reach the heart of him, the heart that needs my loving attention.

Because the two must go together, the correction and the comfort; if he cannot or will not allow himself the balm of comfort then I cannot subject him to the chastisement. I must somehow gain his trust! And soon, before he draws back so far that I cannot reach him.

“Sire!” A tremulous voice draws my attention to the doorway.

“Come, Faramir, we have much to discuss,” I say as I beckon him forward. I observe that he appears outwardly calm and collected, all evidence of his earlier agitation, and shakes, now gone.

He takes me by surprise by falling to his knees and clasping my hand, pressing my ring to his forehead in a gesture of abject humiliation. “Please forgive me, Sire. I beg you… forgive me!”

Knowing how he withdraws from physical contact I am surprised by his gesture and by the fact that he remains in place. This must be acutely uncomfortable for him but he made this first tentative move and I must tread carefully so as not to overwhelm him. I raise him up and invite him to sit with me that we may work through the events of the day. But he refuses to sit, needing the outward trappings of formality to weather this necessary confrontation. I cannot remain seated while he stands before me like an errant schoolboy and so I pace, not angrily or from agitation but simply because it helps me to think.

“Faramir, you have asked for my forgiveness and I give it wholeheartedly.” He was standing to attention, only his eyes following my progress and at my words some of the rigid tension seemed to seep from his shoulders. “But you must understand that I cannot allow such transgressions to go unanswered!”

“I’m so sorry, Sire. My actions were unforgivable… I let you down and disgraced my Office. What would you have me do… I will take myself from your service, resign the Stewardship, and retire from the city… .” He looked stricken, as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

It was distressing to see the depth of his self-condemnation and I knew I had to step in quickly before he again retreated within himself

“Peace, Faramir. That will not be necessary. I would not lose your company or your expertise because of these matters… they were serious, yes, but not so serious that I would banish you from my side or my service.”

“I-I-d-don’t understand, Sire!”

“Faramir, you made mistakes, errors of judgement… and that is allowed, we all make mistakes. We are both of us human, with all the frailties and weaknesses of our race; none of us are infallible!”

I almost laughed then at his outraged expression and with a flash of insight something that Legolas had said came to mind… ‘It is not you he fears; your position, maybe, your authority.’ Ah, wise, wise Elf! Faramir looks on me and he sees… not a man… not a fallible human but a ‘King’! Little wonder that he is so uncomfortable, so overwhelmed in my presence. If only he knew!

“Your first misjudgement was to leave the city without my knowledge or consent and your actions in the council compounded that first error, indeed I believe that your loss of control was as a direct result of the first misdemeanour. But we both know that all of our actions carry consequences and I would have us now discuss you actions so that I may judge how best to help you atone and seek absolution.” He nodded dejectedly.

“Tell me about the summons from Osgiliath?”

“It wasn’t a summons, as such, Sire,” he said warily.

“And yet it had you chasing off across the Pelennor without a second thought!” I challenged.

“Beregond sent a request for advice. He is new to command, Sire, and he is struggling with too little manpower and inadequate resources. He is a good man, a good Captain and I knew that if he felt it necessary to seek council then there would be good reason.”

“There are other experienced Commanders you could have sent to assess the situation. Why did you feel it necessary to deal with this in person?”

“Sire, I am your Captain General. I am responsible for all aspects of the military. It is my Duty to know what is going on… I have been remise in those duties… .”

“And what of your duty to me, to your Office?”

“I left everything up to date, Sire. My staff and the Garrison Commander were aware of my plans… “

“But your King was not!”

“No, Sire.”

“Tell me? Why did you not inform me of your plans?”

“I didn’t think it was necessary, Sire! I am in charge of the military and this was a military matter.”

“Really!” I was trying hard to quash a growing sense of exasperation. Did he really not see his error in this?

“So tell me, Captain, did you take an escort?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“A full escort?”

“An adequate escort, Sire” Another very ‘careful’ answer.

Adequate by whose reckoning?”

“Mine, Sire.”

“Yet apparently not to the duty officer… you overruled his recommendation that you take an escort of at least six troopers and instead insisted on taking just two… who just happened to be the youngest and most inexperienced in the platoon!”

“I thought it would be a good experience for them; showing my confidence in their abilities!”

My pacing was definitely no longer relaxed; I was uptight, cross and ready to throttle him.

“So you had confidence that should you encounter one of the rogue bands that still roam the countryside your two troopers would be able to protect you?”

“I don’t need protecting; I am perfectly capable of defending myself!” He was angry now and trying desperately not to show it.

“Are you?” The question hung in the air and I let him squirm.

“I was under the impression that the Warden had not yet passed you as fit for active service. Am I mistaken?”

“No, Sire… but it is just a technicality… he is being overly cautious… on your orders no doubt!”

This last aside was whispered, not really intended for my ears. I held his gaze until he looked away, an impressive blush painting his face. I walked over and opened the chamber door and spoke to one of the guards. I returned carrying Faramir’s sword. I carried it across my palms and indicated that he should take it. When he had it in a firm grip I took hold of his wrist and raised his arm until it was extended level with his shoulder; arm and sword parallel to the floor.

“Sire?”

“Indulge me, Faramir,” I said, letting go of his wrist and letting him bear the weight of the sword with his outstretched arm.

Within moments he was struggling, his teeth gritted in an attempt to ride out the pain and the weakness in his shoulder. Sweat beaded his face as his arm shook and despite his best efforts the weight of the sword pulled it down. I could not let this go on.

“Enough!” I said gently, taking the sword from his hand. “Do you still insist that you are, at present, capable of defending yourself?” I asked.

He had no answer. He swiped the sweat from his face with his hand, humiliated at having his weakness so clearly demonstrated.

“I do not do this to shame or belittle you, Faramir,” I said gently, “merely to point out that you are not yet fully recovered and that to ride out as you did without adequate escort or protection was an act of self-indulgent folly. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, Sire!”

“So tell me again why you did not seek my permission to ride to Osgiliath?”

“Because… because I knew… I knew that you would not allow it, Sire.”

“So instead of risking my refusal, you sidestepped the issue of permission entirely! Yes?”

“Yes, Sire… I’m sorry!”

HMMm! Sorry for what you did or sorry that you were caught out?”

“Both, Sire.” He whispered.

I couldn’t help but smile at his pout. “Thank you for your honesty.” He looked up and saw my smile before dropping his head down to continue his examination of the tiles at his feet.

“So now we come to today’s debacle?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Why did you miss the beginning of the meeting?”

“It was my intention to get back in good time, Sire. We left at first light with fresh horses and were making good progress… and then my horse pulled up lame. I couldn’t take one of the other horses and leave one of the troopers to make their way back alone, nor would they allow me to travel ahead on my own. We stayed together and began walking until we met up with a patrol; we split up and I came back with half of the patrol and my escort made their way back with the others.”

“I see. Well at least in that you showed good judgement!”

“Thank you, Sire!” I looked up sharply at the sarcasm in his tone.

“Forgive me Sire, that was… forgive me!”

“Certainly! So to continue… You returned tired, hungry and no doubt worried about your reception.” He nodded. “And so with barely time to wash and change and grab a bite to eat you found yourself in Council.” He nodded again and I could see from his posture and the way his breathing had changed to rapid, shallow gasps that the full memory of the events had crashed into him with all the awful, gut-wrenching mortification of the earlier altercation.

“Easy, Faramir, we will discuss this calmly.” I fetched us each a small glass of wine, giving him time to compose himself.

“Sire, he has been manoeuvring behind the scenes for weeks to get me to open up trade. I told him that I would not bring it before the council until the situation in the city was more settled. I know that he resented my actions but I never thought he would stoop to such underhand tactics, Sire.”

“I do understand, Faramir. Lord Harmil used your absence to his own advantage and I hadn’t a good enough grasp on the situation to ask the right questions. I do not fault you for bringing the affair to my attention, Faramir. I am pleased that you had the knowledge and the confidence to fight for what you believed to be right… However I do have a problem with the manner of your intervention!”

“As my Steward I expect you to uphold the honour and dignity of your Office, to lead by example and to maintain the highest standards. I will not tolerate being spoken to in that manner! Nor will I tolerate my Council meetings being turned into a brawl, violence has no place within my Council… Is that CLEAR!” He was back to attention now, his expression neutral and his hooded eyes fixed on a point beyond my shoulder.

“Is that Clear, Captain?” I repeated.

“Yes, Sire.”

“What Lord Harmil said was cruel and unforgivable but you should have allowed me to deal with it. You let your emotions get in the way of good judgement. I will expect you to apologise to the whole Council when next we meet.”

“Yes, Sire, as you command.”

“Thank you. Another time if something comes up in Council that you think requires my attention and that you wish to discuss in private you have only to tell me. I will always adjourn the meeting to hear your thoughts. I value your council.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Now we just need to decide how to deal with consequences of your recent misdemeanours, Faramir. I know that you are sorry for what happened and I accept your apologies but I cannot in all conscience just allow these matters to stand. And yet I am at a loss as to how to proceed. I fear that I must think on this for a while… I do not like asking you to wait but… “

“You wish me to go and await your judgement, Sire!” he offered, his expression almost alarmingly blank.

“Yes… yes I think that would be best.”

“As you command, Sire.” He snapped the smartest salute and then turned on his heel. He walked away from me with his back straight and his shoulders proud and yet… and yet he carried an air of haunting vulnerability. I felt a pall of guilt at leaving him with matters unresolved between us but I had no clear idea yet of how to proceed.

I needed to consult wiser council.

Chapter 4>

I left Estel and Faramir in the Council with a troubled heart, my worries about Faramir’s earlier actions compounded by his outburst in the meeting. I have to hope that Lord Harmil has the sense to keep out of my reach or I fear Estel will be calling me to account for my actions; his manner to Faramir was intolerable and his words unspeakably cruel. It is fortunate that at the time my attentions were focussed on Faramir or I might have been tempted to deal with the Lord myself and he would have discovered just how protective Elves can be of those who are dear to their heart. Estel’s reaction to my ‘dealing’ with the errant Lord would no doubt have been a blistered backside! I would consider it a small price to pay.

I found Lord Elrond in the garden, relaxing in the company of his children, and it was not long before our conversation turned to the Steward and his actions. It was good to share my concerns and when Estel later joined us the conversation continued along the same lines. I could see that Estel was conflicted, his desire to draw Faramir into our circle frustrated by the youngster’s reticence and isolation. We discussed amongst ourselves how best to approach this problem, though we failed to come up with any solutions.

Lord Elrond offered to intercede on Estel’s behalf, and, though I could tell the offer was tempting, Estel with regret declined the offer. I could not fault his reasoning; if Lord Elrond did manage to break through and forge a supportive relationship with Faramir only to then to disappear from his life, the results for Faramir would be catastrophic; another ‘abandonment’ to add to the many he had suffered in his life. And Estel would then be left in the same situation as he finds himself in now.

As the afternoon melted towards evening Estel took his leave, his step heavy. We had barely got to our feet to go and prepare for Dinner when cries of alarm heralded the arrival of a breathless and distraught servant who crashed through the door into the garden.

“Lord Elrond… you are needed… the King… help… it’s urgent!” the boys desperate cries were almost incoherent.

“Quietly child, slowly… Take a breath and tell us slowly.” Lord Elrond, always a cool head in a crisis, grasped the boy by the shoulder and crouched down, his calm gaze steadying the boy.

“The King needs you; Sir… in the Old Library… Lord Faramir needs help… Please you must hurry.

Dispatching Arwen to collect his bag of supplies, the rest of us followed the boy along twisting corridors towards the Old Steward’s apartments. Dim lamplight issued from the doorway of an otherwise darkened chamber. I could hear Estel’s voice; it was low and soothing, urgent and almost desperate in its intensity.

I had only seconds to take in the scene that confronted us. We entered a small, high-ceilinged, octagonal chamber of maybe ten paces across, closed shutters were set high in the wall above dark wood bookshelves that lined six of the angled walls. The door occupied one wall and the final wall housed a large, empty fireplace. The bookshelves were all empty and the room was dank and bleak. From the dim light of a single lantern I could see Estel kneeling on the floor, his arms supporting Faramir’s weight against his chest. Faramir was naked apart from his breeches; I could see his undershirt and tunic folded neatly and set upon the back of only chair in the room, his boots standing to attention by the side. On the seat of the chair lay a vicious looking whip, its long sinuous flail curled neatly around the well-worn handle.

Faramir’s arms were both caught at the wrists within two loose loops of leather, fixed above shoulder height into a metal ring set into the angle of the wall. When standing the loops would have offered support, but in his already exhausted state he must have fainted or his legs given way and now his whole weight was suspended on his arms, the leather bindings cutting deep welts into his wrists.

Without needing instruction the twin sons of Lord Elrond moved forward to assist their human brother, one helping Estel to bear the Steward’s weight, the other gently releasing the hands from their cruel bonds. I thought Faramir to be insensible but when his rescuers moved him his scream echoed around the chamber and then he did pass into blessed unconsciousness, for the pain in his abused muscled must have been excruciating.

After a quick assessment Lord Elrond motioned to his sons; Faramir was wrapped in a cloak and carried to the Houses of Healing, cradled between the two Elves. Estel made to follow the procession, clearly distressed; I took his arm and ushered him towards his chambers, for he was in no condition to be of use at the moment. I seated him in an easy chair near the fire and knelt at his feet, chafing his hands.

“How could he think I would do that to him!” he choked. “Never in a thousand lifetimes would I subject him to that!” He wept silently into his hands and I could only comfort him with my arms and my words. Presently Arwen joined us and, leaving Estel to her loving ministrations, I went to seek some answers.

I sought out the Steward’s Chamberlain, an elderly man who had served the Steward’s family since before Boromir was born.

“Tell me about Lord Denethor and Lord Faramir and that… that torture chamber!” I demanded. My question clearly distressed the man and I realised that I needed to proceed more gently to get the information I required. “Forgive me! Please tell me so that we may understand what has occurred here today.”

“Lord Denethor was … he was a good man once… but his duties and his grief’s weighed heavily upon him and he became hard and relentless… and Lord Faramir suffered the brunt of his anger. He was always a stern father but in his later years he became… he became more unforgiving.

“How often did he resort to beating his son?”

“It was never frequent, Lord Boromir made sure that his brother was stationed away from the city as much as possible… .he knew that relations between his father and brother were strained but I don’t believe he ever knew about the physical abuse. Faramir would have done anything to protect him from that knowledge. After Lord Boromir left on his quest Captain Faramir had to report to his father at least once a month.

“And these beatings happened every month?” I asked, appalled.

“No, I don’t believe so… but several times my Lord required the attentions of the healers before he returned to duty.

“And did nobody intervene on Lord Faramir’s behalf?” I demanded.

“No, Sir. It would have only made things worse. Lord Faramir saw it as his duty to submit to his father’s correction”

“And today, you knew he had gone to that chamber?”

“Yes, I heard that his Lordship was in trouble and that he had been sent to the old Library to await the King’s justice”

“And when the King didn’t go there, did it not occur to you that this was all a misunderstanding!”

“No Sir. Lord Faramir was often made to wait hours for his father to administer his punishments.”

“Have you learned nothing about your King? How can you judge him by the standards of that poor demented old man?” I felt sickened by the thought that Denethor’s malevolent influence still carried sway even after his death. I dismissed the man and went back to Estel.

On my return Estel was alone but calm.

“Arwen has gone to see how Faramir fares,” he explained. He motioned for me to join him. I sat on the floor beside his chair, my back resting against his legs. He unconsciously reached out and began to play with my hair, twirling the strands through his fingers.

“Will you tell me now what happened, my friend?” I asked. His fingers stilled for a moment before resuming their soothing ritual.

“I should have realised something was amiss when he left the chamber. There was something about his manner… .he seemed… he seemed sadly resigned. Our discussions had not been easy for him… so difficult for such a proud and honourable man to be called to account for his misjudgements… but he faced up to them bravely and with such dignity. More than once I wanted to take him and hold him and soothe away his sadness and yet that was impossible for he would not have understood or accepted such ministrations!”

“We must hope that in time he will come to see that he deserves such care,” I said, resting my head back on his knee and looking up into his troubled grey eyes, silently inviting him to continue his gentle, soothing caresses; knowing that he receives as much comfort from bestowing these gestures of care as I get in receiving them. For the first time since finding him with Faramir a soft smile lights up his features and I regret that I must take him back to that scene of such fearful anguish, but to speak of it aloud will help to banish the distress of what happened.

“Tell me what happened when you left us in the garden?”

“I went to look for him. I tried first his chambers and his offices but his secretary said he had not seen him since his return from Osgiliath. As I was leaving I met up with the under-chamberlain… his reaction to me was strange… he seemed… angry! I have always had good and equitable relations with the staff and his reaction was so uncomfortable and unexpected that I was for a moment at a loss.

“Do you know where I can find Lord Faramir?” I asked him.

“Of course, Sire. He is awaiting your attendance.” The man’s tone was bordering on insolence and I was about to reprimand him when his meaning triggered a feeling of alarm.

“Explain yourself! Why and where is he awaiting me?” The man’s expression went from antagonism to confusion.

“Why, the Old Library, Sire. That has always been the place of punishment, Sire!”

“Punishment!”

“Aye, Sire.”

“Take me there! I demanded, following through darkened corridors at a run.”

The fingers in my hair tightened sufficiently to make me wince and I put my hands up to cover his, releasing their hold.

“You saw that room!” he continued, “he must have gone there immediately after leaving the council chamber; prepared the room and himself for the expected punishment and then waited… waited for me to come and thrash him… waited until his strength gave out!”

“I know!” I said, trying to soothe him. “I have spoken to the Chamberlain. It was ever the way with the Old Steward and his dealings with his younger son.”

“I never wanted to punish him in that way. I wouldn’t punish anyone in such a cruel and vicious manner. Do you know what he said when I got to him?… He apologised… He said ‘I’m sorry, Sire… I tried to wait for you… ‘”

“I know, Estel. This is not your fault! No, it is not!” I reiterated when he shook his head. “Faramir was reacting in the only manner he has ever experienced. That was Denethor’s way of dealing with what he perceived as Faramir’s transgressions, real or imagined.”

“But I never sent him to that room… .I never even passed judgement on his actions… wait… that’s what he said before he left… .he said… he said ‘you wish me to go and await your judgement!’ and I replied… I replied ‘yes, that would be best’” He dropped his head into his hands.

“Estel, this was a misunderstanding… It. Was. Not. Your. Fault!”

“My fault or not, he is back in the Healer’s care and whatever fears he had about me before will have been magnified a hundred-fold!”

“We will make him understand, Estel!”


For two days Faramir lay insensible in the Houses of Healing; kept in merciful oblivion by the potions of Lord Elrond and the Warden. It took powerful analgesics and sedatives to counteract the pain of torn muscles and overstrained joints. By careful management the Healers were able to monitor when the effects of their medications were beginning to wear off and they would utilise the lightening of his level of consciousness to enable them to get sufficient fluids into him, without him becoming aware enough for the pain to cause him distress.

Only when he was deeply sedated would they treat his injuries with massage and manipulation; exercising the joints and muscles and helping to repair the damage and begin to restore function and strength.

He was never left unattended and I took it upon myself to sit with him through the dark hours of the night. While all about us the city settled into sleep I would sit and talk to him, tell him stories, sing softly in the hope that even in his stupor the essence of my presence would register deep within him; that my constant physical contact would speak to his heart.

Lord Elrod was his chief healer, coming to attend him several times a day, bestowing his unique and special talents, using touch to project his healing strength into this stricken and broken youngster who has wormed his way so deeply into all our hearts. Estel would visit, desperate to be of use, locked within a haze of guilt that none of us could ease. He blamed himself for the misunderstanding that had led to this situation and for his failure to establish a channel of communication with Faramir.

On the third day I was sitting in the window seat watching as Lord Elrond began another round of treatment. Faramir was still under the effects of the medicines but his level of awareness was rising.

On this occasion Estel was assisting the Elven Lord. The room was warm and calm, the scent of athelas lightening our senses. Having removed Faramir’s nightshirt, the two healers positioned their patient on his front, a blanket drawn up to his waist. The bed-head was removed and the Elf Lord took a seat at the top end of the bed and cupped his hands around Faramir’s head and neck, closing his own eyes as he concentrated his healing powers and senses on his patient. Only when he received a nod of acknowledgement did Estel begin, coating his hands with warmed aromatic oils and proceeding to massage each arm in turn, moving from fingertips to shoulder, across the neck and upper back before moving on to the other arm. When the muscles and tendons had been thoroughly warmed and massaged he begin to manipulate the joints, moving each through a full range of movement, noting with a healer’s touch where the stiffness and strain were most pronounced. When he had completed his ministrations, Estel with Lord Elrond’s help, rolled Faramir over onto his back, adjusting his covering. The whole process of massage and exercise was then started over.

Faramir was showing increasing signs of restlessness, squirming weakly away from the hands that cared for him. Lord Elrond moved closer until his lips were almost touching Faramir’s ear, whispering reassurance and Elvish endearments to soothe the fractious patient. A tear squeezed itself from beneath long, dark lashes and tracked a silver path to where elven fingers rested against his temples.

A moment later Faramir opened his eyes, his confused gaze darting restlessly until he focussed on Lord Elrond’s peaceful and reassuring smile above him.

“Welcome back, my young friend,” the Elven Lord greeted. “Do not be alarmed, you have been ill, but you are quite safe. Be at peace.”

Faramir kept his gaze fixed on the face above him, anchoring him against his confusion and disorientation. I could almost see his thought processes as he tried to piece together fragments of broken memory. I recognised the instant that memory clarified and he remembered the circumstances of his predicament. He became instantly frantic, his head thrashing from side to side in a desperate attempt to free himself from Lord Elrond’s touch.

“Peace Faramir… it’s alright… you are quite safe… do not fret!” Elrond soothed but his words were in vain for at that moment Faramir caught sight of Estel and realised that the King was also ministering to him; Royal hands massaging his shoulder.

In a movement so sudden and unexpected that it took us all by surprise, Faramir flipped over onto his side, curled in upon himself, his back towards The King.

“Noooo, do not… do not touch me!” his cry was haunting, desperate.

His arms, not yet under his control, he could not get to move up to hide his face and so he tucked his head as far as he could under his shoulder. His violent movement had taken him perilously close to the edge of the bed and two pairs of arms reached out to hold him. Again he struggled away from the contact.

“Faramir, Enough!” Lord Elrond’s command was enough to still further struggle and the Elven Lord moved around the bed and crouched down until he was at eye level with the distraught Steward.

“Calm yourself, young one, there is no need for this fuss. Take a deep breath and tell me what distresses you so.”

“He mustn’t… it isn’t right… not seemly… I do not want him to-to see… to see me like this!” he choked. “Is it not enough that I have shamed and humiliated myself beyond all hope of redemption… must I be totally humbled before my King!”

Estel had moved around the bed, his words were soft and gentle but they failed to soothe Faramir’s anguish. “Faramir, it was not my intention to distress you; I wanted only to help and to comfort you. Can you not accept me as a healer as you did before?”

“No Sire, you are first and always my King! This is not right… I beg you, please leave me some dignity!” Estel bowed his head in defeat, not willing to be the cause of further upset.

“Very well, Faramir, I will leave you now. Be at peace and let Lord Elrond tend you. You are in safe hands… I will come and see you later when you are more rested,” Estel said sadly, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

I moved from my window seat to the bedside as Lord Elrond followed Estel from the room. I could hear a muffled conversation from beyond the door and I can guess that Lord Elrond was reassuring Estel as I would have done if I had been in his place.

When Lord Elrond returned I assisted him in making Faramir more comfortable, sponging his face and hands with scented water and combing through his tangled locks. Replacing his nightshirt was awkward and we had to feed his tender and lifeless arms through the sleeves of the fine linen shirt. Faramir remained silent throughout our ministrations, his eyes closed, though we both knew that he wasn’t sleeping.

Following Lord Elrond’s instructions I supported Faramir in a sitting position, my arms around his chest bracing him against my body as Lord Elrond replaced the headboard and arranged a pile of pillows against it. Faramir was like a rag doll in my embrace, his useless arms hanging limply in his lap. I shifted slightly and his brow came to rest upon my shoulder. I was in no hurry to end this embrace and it appeared that Lord Elrond was quite happy for me to continue, indicating that he would go and arrange for refreshments to be readied for the patient.

A spreading dampness at my shoulder was the first indication of Faramir’s distress; lonely, silent tears shed as he finally gave vent to his emotions. I hugged him more tightly against me, one hand moving up to cup his head.

I didn’t try to shush him or halt his tears. I just held him against me, comforting him with my presence and whispering words of encouragement and reassurance as he wept, rubbing my cheek against his red-gold hair, a warm glow filling my spirit that I now had this precious mortal sheltered within my arms

After a long time his tears slowed and his hitched breathing settled and still he rested against my shoulder making no attempt to pull away.

“Alright now, young one. Don’t fret, all will be well… I have you… you are safe now.” I whispered.

“No!” he sobbed, “how can things ever be right? I have made such a mess of things… I wanted so much to please him… to show him I was worthy of his trust… and… and now it is all gone… all for naught.” He was weeping again, his anguish profound.

“Oh, my poor, sad little friend,” I said rocking us both, tightening my embrace. “You have nothing to fear and nothing to prove, not to Estel and not to anyone. We know and celebrate your worth. Do not judge yourself so harshly. There is only one thing that we wish from you and that is the gift of your confidence, of your friendship. Can you do that, little one? Can you bless us with the gift of your friendship?”

I got no reply but that did not matter; it was enough to have him in my arms. This was a first tentative step on what would be a long road but I would celebrate it for the victory that it represented. I held him until his tears dried and his hitched breathing settled into the calm even sighs of sleep and still I was reluctant to let him go.

A soft cough announced that I had company. In the doorway stood Lord Elrond, his hand on Estel’s shoulder. I’m not sure how long they had been observing us but I could see the evidence of tears upon Estel’s cheek. I reluctantly lowered my precious, sleeping, burden to rest back against the pillows and settled the coverlet around his shoulders. Estel beckoned me to his side.

“Thank you, my dear friend,” Estel said, drawing me to him and dropping a kiss onto my brow.

“You did well, Legolas!” Lord Elrond whispered, drawing me into his sheltering embrace.

Only then did I allow my own tears to flow.

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.

Chapter 6 >

Estel has declared tomorrow a rest day and, in honour of the fact, we have gathered in the Queen’s garden to plan how we will spend our hours of freedom. Estel and Faramir are due to join us shortly; they have been down to the barracks to observe the new recruits under training. It was Faramir’s idea to invite the King, a way of helping the Sovereign to become more familiar with the officers and the men under his command. Estel had jumped at the chance, always eager to get away from the mountain of paperwork and tedious whining of his more odious councillors.

We had both hoped that his spending time with Faramir in a more relaxed and informal atmosphere might help to ease the formality with which the Steward interacted with him but I fear our plan has not proved fruitful. When they return to the garden Estel catches my eye and with a slight shake of the head informs me that nothing has changed; indeed I can see from the way that Faramir is pacing restlessly along one of the outer paths that he is anything but relaxed.

“What happened, Estel?” I asked, as we both watched the clearly agitated Steward stomping a rhythmic trail to and fro; ten steps one way, ten steps back.

“I know not! I thought the visit had gone well. The training session was satisfactory and the troops well prepared for the Graduation Ceremony in a few weeks. The men obviously hold Faramir in great respect and affection; he was constantly greeted by old comrades asking after him.”

“And yet something has clearly upset him!” I remarked.

“I know. He seemed composed while we were at the barracks; it was as we were making our way back up through the city that I became aware of his discomfiture.”

As we spoke I observed Frodo approach Faramir and address him, stalling his pacing with a hand on his arm. Faramir pulled away with a curt reply and Frodo’s face fell, a look of puzzled bewilderment at his friend’s reaction. Faramir was immediately contrite and set about making amends to the little Ring-bearer and after a few moments conversation Frodo made his way back to Sam, a sad thoughtful expression on his face.

“Please, I beg you… do not say it!” Faramir hissed without looking at me.

I wasn’t even aware that he had registered my presence. He was standing at the balustrade, his white-knuckled grip grinding his fingers into the rough white stone as he gazed out into the distance.

“Don’t say what, my friend?”

He sighed and allowed his fists to fall to his side, still keeping his face turned away from me. “Are you well, Faramir? Are you alright, Faramir? Can I get you anything, Faramir? Are you too warm? Too Cold? In pain? Should you be riding today? Have you exercised today? Have you changed your socks, FARAMIR!” he all but yelled. “If one more person asks me if I am alright I will personally hang them by their ankles over the edge of this balcony and see how long it takes them to hit the plain below! … I am not a child, I do not need a keeper and I just wish to be-be left alone!”

He turned to me and I was staggered by the raw anger in his eyes. I did not rise to the bait, I kept my words and tone gentle. I reached for his hands and unfurled his clenched fists, rubbing at the crescent shaped indentations where his nails had gouged into his palms.

“Actually, I was going to ask you what Frodo had said to incite your ire but given your little ‘outburst’ I suspect he just enquired after your wellbeing… .as friends do!” I chided him gently. It was as if my words had deflated all of his anger, leaving only shame.

“Aye, I’m sorry. I have apologised to him… it was nothing personal… it was just the last straw! It was unforgivable… I should not have been so hard on him.”

“I’m sure Frodo, more than any other would understand your predicament, Faramir. He has had to endure more than his fair share of well-meaning, if not altogether welcome, attention.” I said dropping his hands but not moving from his side. “What has brought on this sudden fit of aggravation, Faramir? Has something particular upset you?” He shook his head as if not trusting his voice. He pressed his thumb and forefinger against his closed lids, seeking strength from within.

“I thank you for your concern, Legolas… it is not that I don’t appreciate it but-but you can’t help me with this… I must work through this in my own way… on my own… Forgive me!”

“Faramir, Wait!” I called after him but he was already walking away, head lowered to avoid eye contact with others as he passed,

“Well?” Estel’s question was posed before Faramir had even disappeared from view.

“I Don’t Know!” I ground out, frustration quickly turning to impotent anger. “Stubborn… infuriating… maddening… young… fool!” I glared at Estel when he had the nerve to chuckle at my outburst.

“I take it your famed Elven charm failed to make an impression on him?” I cuffed the impudent human even as my own smile forced an appearance.

“I think he is feeling beleaguered by the constant attention of everyone who crosses his path,” I explained. “… or at least that is the focus of his anger! I suspect the real reason lies hidden deeper… deeper than even he can see.”

“Come on, out with it, Legolas. What are you keeping to yourself?” Estel had his hands on my shoulders and there was no escaping his piercing and all-seeing scrutiny. I never could keep anything hidden from him for long.

“Come now. Legolas, tell me?” he demanded.

“What is this troublesome youngster keeping to himself now, my son?” Oh, now I had no chance of keeping my thoughts to myself, not against Estel and Lord Elrond’s perceptive and persistent attention.

“I was just about to find out, Ada!”

I shook my head in defeat. “Faramir’s sleep is troubled. He wakes with nightmares!” I explained.

“How do you know this? Has he told you? How often does it happen?”

“Two or three times last week, most nights this week… sometimes more than once a night.” I explained, dropping my eyes to the floor not wanting to see worry and disappointment that my revelation elicited.

“And how do you know this?” Lord Elrond demanded. I had no choice now but to explain what I had seen and to admit to my own actions.

“Does he know of your nightly visits?”

“No. He has enough to deal with without my adding to his embarrassment. I only go if he calls out in his distress and I always leave before he wakes!”

“You should have confided in us, my friend. Your attempts to safeguard his privacy are all well and good but this constantly disturbed sleep will weaken him and will not help him to deal with whatever is troubling him!”

“Not to mention that you are putting your own wellbeing at risk by missing out on your own rest!” Lord Elrond chided.

“I can deal with it… he cannot!”

“And if you had come to us we could have dealt with the problem and perhaps prevented you both wearing yourselves to exhaustion.” Lord Elrond chided, bestowing upon me a frown guaranteed to make me feel like an irresponsible Elfling.


I was surprised that Faramir joined us to partake of the evening meal; I was sure that given the events of the afternoon he would make his excuses and seek to find a measure of tranquillity in his own company. But attend he did. He made a point of claiming the seat next to Frodo at the table and from the Ring-bearer’s gentle expression I judged that Faramir had indeed made good his promise to make amends for his earlier actions.

I was not the only one present observing Faramir; I noted that Lord Elrond and Estel both had him in their sights. I did consider making myself scarce, not sure if I wanted to be around when Faramir found out my part in Estel and Lord Elrond’s knowledge of his sleeping difficulties. I think sometimes Estel can read my mind or maybe he is just adept at reading my body language but no sooner had the thought crossed my mind than I felt his hand on my arm, a quelling glance all but ordering me to stay put!

When the meal ended we moved into Arwen’s sitting room to relax. Faramir was rounded up by Lord Elrond and ‘guided’ to a quiet corner to be joined by Estel. There followed an edgy and somewhat heated discussion, Faramir making it clear that this further intrusion into his personal matters was not welcome. He should have realised by now that there is no gainsaying the two noble healers when they think that one of their own is in need of their particular skills. At the end of the discussion Lord Elrond produced a small medicine vial and ‘insisted’ that Faramir take it when he retired for the night.

When finally released by his carers Faramir stalked over to me, his face like thunder.

“The next time you feel the need to interfere in my concerns, Prince,” he spat, poking his finger towards my chest, “perhaps you would have the courtesy to come and discuss them with me first! I do not like having my privacy invaded nor do I wish to have loose-lipped busybodies blabbing my private business to others… Is. That. Clear!”

I nodded but he didn’t wait around long enough to hear my apologies, he stomped out onto the terrace and flounced down onto one of the benches, pulling a small book from his tunic. Merry and Pippin, who were out on the terrace play-fighting with wooden swords, ceased their game when they noticed Faramir’s arrival and after a heated, whispered, conversation they moved back into the main chamber, much to Pippin’s obvious disgust.

I watched Faramir for a while and though his gaze was directed at the page of his book, not once did he turn the page. I was just about to go out to him and try to make amends when a commotion within the room drew my attention. Frodo was dozing in a chair but Merry, Pippin and Sam had moved away and it was clear that Merry and Sam were trying to pacify and calm an increasingly irate Pippin. The little Took was fair bristling with indignation, his eyes bright and his little hands clenched tight.

“Pippin, keep your voice down!” I heard Merry say, trying to pull Pippin down beside him on the sofa.

“Mr Merry’s right, Mr Pippin, you don’t want to be making a fuss.” Sam soothed, unsuccessfully.

“Don’t you dare tell me what I don’t want to be doing, Samwise Gamgee!…the question needs asking … and if none of you are going to do it then I will…he was my friend too!” Pippin threw down his wooden sword and stormed back out onto the terrace.

“Pippin. Don’t!”

“No, Mr Pippin!”

PIPPIN!”

Pippin ignored his companion’s entreaties and the rest of the assembled company and marched right up to Faramir, not stopping until he was pressed right up against the Steward’s legs.

“Pippin?” Faramir was startled from his lonely, angry introspection by the sudden appearance of Pippin at his side. “Can I help you, little one?”

Every other conversation in the room stopped as we all focussed on this unexpected development. I felt the stirrings of alarm and I noticed that Estel was poised ready to move in and take action; he glanced my way passing a message of restraint, of careful watchfulness.

“Have you disowned your brother, Sir?! The little Took demanded

“Pippin, what do you mean?”

“T’is a simple question, Sir! Have you disowned your brother? Are you ashamed of Boromir?”

“No, Pippin. Why would you ask such a horrible question? What have I done that would lead you to accuse me of such a thing?” Faramir gasped. “When have you ever heard me utter a bad word against my brother… .against Boromir?” Faramir was distressed by this sudden and unexpected attack and I wanted desperately to go to him but Estel and Lord Elrond both stayed me.

“True I’ve never heard a bad word… and not a good word either, in fact not a single word at all!…not one word! and I-I don’t understand! I-I don’t understand why you’re allowing him to be-be forgotten… he deserves better than that!” Pippin cried, his little hands beating a tattoo against Faramir’s knees.

“Pippin you don’t understand! It’s not like that.”

“Then make me understand, My Lord! Make me understand why my-my big brave warrior isn’t being celebrated for the hero that he was! Make me understand why I’m shushed whenever I want to talk about him and remember him? Why whenever you’re near I have to pretend that I never knew him?” Pippin was weeping now, huge silent tears that ran down his face and dripped from his chin onto Faramir’s knees. Faramir leant forward and pulled the little Hobbit up onto his lap so that they were at eye level.

“Pippin, have I ever stopped you remembering Boromir? If so, it was never my intention to be so cruel!”

“No-no, Sir bu-but everyone else does They shush me and tell me to be more considerate! Not to bother you with my silly prattling or silly games!”

“Oh, Pippin! You tell me little one. Tell me about your big brave hero!” Faramir whispered to his littlest warrior.

Pippin sniffed, angrily dashing the tears from his cheeks; waiting for a nod of encouragement from Faramir.

“He was big and brave,” Pippin began, eyes bright with unshed tears and fond remembrance. “He taught us to fight, how to protect ourselves. He was patient and stern and he kept us to our task… and-and he carried us when we were too weary to walk any more and he huddled us under his big warm cloak when we were cold and he saved us from being buried and frozen in the snow… he swatted us when we were silly or reckless and he cheered us up with stories when we were low. He told us about his big White City and about his brave and loveable brother… an-and when the Orcs came he fought like a demon to keep us safe… even when those awful arrows knocked him to the ground he got right back up again and again until they overpowered him and they carried us way. He was a hero… a big golden hero and he was my fr-friend!” Pippin sobbed, held tight against Faramir’s chest.

“I know, Pippin..I know. He was my hero too. He taught me to fight and to ride and to swim and how to be brave and honest and honourable. All my life I’ve tried so hard to be like him… even when I knew that I would never be a strong or as skilled as he was… still I tried to make him proud of me… and he was! He was my big, shining Golden Brother, Pippin… and if I don’t talk about him, it’s not because I don’t care or because I’ve forgotten… it’s because it hurts too much!” Faramir whispered his voice laced with the agony of loss.

Pippin pulled back and looked up into Faramir’s face. What he saw reflected in Faramir’s grey pain-filled eyes touched his dear little Hobbit heart and he cupped his hands around Faramir’s cheeks and pulled him into his embrace, resting the Steward’s brow against the symbol of the White-tree embroidered on his surcoat.

“Oh, Faramir, I never meant to hurt you… I just didn’t understand. Can you forgive me?” They were both weeping now, Pippin noisy and unashamed in his sorrow and Faramir silent, as if his heart would shatter if he gave free rein to his grief.

And those of us who looked on? Not one was dry-eyed.

We left them to their privacy, locked together as they murmured their remembrances and their pain into the warm velvet night time. Within the chamber we sought comfort amongst our companions.

When Pippin finally returned to his fellow Hobbits, red-eyed and dishevelled, he was quickly absorbed into their circle. A few moments later Faramir passed through the chamber, he bowed to Estel and Arwen, picked up the vial of medicine from the mantle and, without a word, left for the sanctuary of his own rooms.

If I didn’t know him better I would have said he seemed calm, dignified even but I have learned a thing or two about our noble Steward in the last few weeks and I was not fooled. He was wound as tight as a spring, his calm façade a skilful mask intended to protect his emotions from the scrutiny of others. He had wept for Boromir and yet there was no relief for him in those tears. I have heard how ruthless Denethor was to his younger son but I fear his bitter attentions were as nothing to the savagery that Faramir heaps upon himself.

I did not follow him from the chamber. He has been battered by too many emotions this day and I did not wish to add to his distress. I left him to his privacy, vowing to make my peace with him on the morrow. Instead I stayed long enough to see the Hobbits bid their goodnights. Estel returned their blessing and as Pippin turned to leave Estel scooped him up and hugged him tight to his chest.

“Put me down, yer big softy!…what’s this all about, Strider?”

“You, Peregrin Took! You jump in with your oversized woolly feet, without thought or caution and yet you have achieved more in one evening than we have done in weeks!”

“You mean Faramir? I didn’t mean to upset him… I just needed to understand… I didn’t mean to upset him!”

“I know you didn’t, Pippin. I’m not vexed with you and neither is Faramir. Sometimes tears are a good thing and I think it helped Faramir to talk about Boromir and to remember him.” Estel reassured his littlest Guard

“Oh! Well that’s alright then… perhaps I’m not such a fool of a Took after all,” he chuckled, as Estel set him back on his feet.

Whether it was the attentions of the little Took or whether it was Lord Elrond’s potion I know not but for the first time in many nights there was no disturbance from Faramir’s chamber, no distressed cries of a sleep disturbed by nightmares; my reverie was tranquil and I woke at dawn in the comforting embrace of my green bower.

Chapter 7>

“I think that perhaps our little Halfling friend had the right idea, Estel!”

I was sitting at the breakfast table with Arwen and Lord Elrond when my Ada’s words pulled my attention from the document I was reading.

“Ada?”

“I have been thinking on how best to help young Faramir! It is clear our softly, softly approach is not working. He is not facing up to his grief nor is he allowing anyone close enough to help him. Young Pippin’s tantrum last evening forced him to confront his feelings, even if he did still keep a tight rein on his emotions.”

“I know, Ada, but I don’t know how to help him. Legolas has made some progress but even he is kept at arms length and after their confrontation last night I’m not even sure that that small progress may not have been sabotaged! You saw how angry Faramir was with Legolas and I don’t believe they had the opportunity to make their peace.”

Ada nodded, acknowledging my comment and for a while he remained silent, his eyes closed in his familiar expression of quiet contemplation.

“Let me ask you, my Son. What do you consider to be the greatest hurdle you face in helping Faramir?”

I took a moment to consider all that I had learned and seen of Faramir’s behaviour and his reactions to his current situation. “His grief!” I said.

“Grief is one of the problems certainly, but what is preventing you from helping him to deal with his losses?”

“His reserve! His ability to lock his emotions deep within himself,” I replied, suddenly ‘seeing’ what my wise Ada was trying to tell me. Ada’s smile encouraged me to keep thinking, to keep talking my thoughts aloud.

“By locking his feelings deep within himself and by locking us out he is protecting himself… he is frightened… terrified of the possibility that should he release his grip he will be overwhelmed. His Father’s legacy, no doubt… to show emotions is to show weakness! And he must always be strong, be in command, to uphold honour and duty in the only way he has ever known!” I exclaimed with sudden understanding.

“Yes, my Son, he is fighting a constant battle against himself and the only way he can achieve a ‘victory’ is to subjugate his emotions so that they do not threaten his sense of self.”

“So how do we help him? How do I help him?” I groaned, wanting someone, anyone to help me untangle this conundrum.

“By breaking through the barriers he has erected… by forcing him to confront his pain… by whatever means necessary!”

“You cannot expect me to deal with him as his father did!”

“No, of course not. But you must understand that for Faramir that was his Father’s way of expressing his ‘care’. Brutal and sadistic as it seems to us, that was all he knew… he accepted his Father’s beatings, not only out of duty but because he believed that that was what he deserved… that his father was attempting to rid him of his weakness, to make him stronger!”

“But that doesn’t help me! I will not stoop to his father’s methods and yet I cannot subject him to my care, my discipline, if he cannot accept all that goes with it, the correction and the comfort!” I growled in my frustration.

“Then you must find a way to get him to accept it.”

Further discussion was halted when Legolas arrived, a roll of parchment in his hand and a look of concern gracing his fair features. It takes a lot to disturb my fair Prince’s composure and his expression and agitation were clear indications that what troubled him was serious.

“Faramir has gone!” he announced, his voice tight with agitation.

“Gone? What do you mean gone? Gone where?”

“I don’t know… away… out of the city!”

“When?”

“During the night… I don’t know… none saw him leave!”

“Don’t we have guards, weren’t the city gates secured?” I thundered.

“Yes, we have guards and yes, the city gates were all manned and secured… but none saw him leave!” Legolas was clearly distressed and my anger was not directed at him. I forced myself to calm and drew him down to the seat at my side.

“I’m sorry, my friend. Start at the beginning and tell us what you know,” I urged him.

“I took my rest in the garden, last evening,” he began. “I was worried about Faramir; I was worried how he would react after that episode with Pippin, coming as it did on the shoulders of his earlier distress. I knew he was angry with me but I wanted to be close by in case he had another bad night!” He flashed us a wry grimace, “I wasn’t convinced that he would take the medicine you gave him, My Lord.”

“It appears your fears were not without merit, Legolas!” Lord Elrond confirmed.

“Anyway, my reverie was not disturbed and I woke at dawn with a feeling of relief that he must have had a good night’s rest. I didn’t return immediately to my chambers as I was enjoying the serenity of the garden. When I eventually made my way to my room I found this,” he indicated the roll of parchment, “tucked under the outer handle of my door. I read the message and went at once to his chambers. The outer door was bolted and I climbed up and gained entrance via the window. His bedchamber was empty, his bed not slept in. A quick search of his room revealed that his travelling clothes were missing, as were his weapons and his travelling pack.

“I went at once to check with the guards but not one claimed to have seen anything suspicious… he had not passed through any of the gates between the Levels nor had he had the main gate opened. Next I went to the stables, his horse and saddle had not been taken… all horses and tack is accounted for; wherever he has gone he is on foot.”

“May I see the message, Legolas?” I asked, reaching out to take the parchment from his rigid grasp. He released it to me and I unfurled it to see Faramir’s distinctive, elegant penmanship.


Legolas

First let me begin by offering you my sincere apologies. I behaved badly and allowed my temper to override good sense and manners. I should not have taken my frustration out on you, especially as you have shown me nothing but kindness. I realise that in telling the King and Lord Elrond about my disturbed sleep you were acting in what you believed to be my best interest. I can only think that my anger stemmed from my shame that, once again, my weakness was being displayed to those whose good opinion I valued. I suspect now that my two ‘nursemaids’ have no illusions as to my suitability to continue in my present Office. I can only hope that, in time, I may convince them that I do indeed have some redeeming qualities.

I must also ask you to forgive me for involving you in my current actions. I do not wish to leave without offering some explanation nor do I wish to add to the worries of those who have offered me their friendship. I would ask you, therefore, to convey to his Majesty the news of my departure and to reassure him that I go with only honourable intentions.

_My decision to leave may appear hasty and without thought to the consequences but I fear I can see no alternative. I must get away from the City. I can no longer bear the oppression of unrelenting memories nor the constant scrutiny of those about me. I cannot breathe; the very air seems to suck all hope and optimism from me, leaving me nothing to offer in return for the kindness and care of those who seek to help me. _

There is no help that I can see.

You were not the only one wounded by my behaviour and actions yesterday. I am deeply shamed that my actions have upset two gentle beings who deservered only my care and support. How could I have hurt two such innocents with my thoughtless and selfish behaviour? That poor Pippin should believe that I was ashamed of Boromir, that my silence stemmed from my disgust at his actions was like a knife to my heart. And yet I do not blame Pippin for his belief for it was rooted in my own actions.

But in trying to comfort and reassure Pippin I was struck by another blow; in trying to recall memories of Boromir to share with my little Knight I realised that I can no longer find my connection to my brother. When I picture him in my mind I see only the frozen effigy of him in his Elven bier; I cannot recall the living Boromir, cannot remember his smile or the echo of his laughter, cannot recall the touch of his hand or the weight of his arm across my shoulders. I have lost all sense of him from my memory, and the thought terrifies me.

Please believe that I am not seeking to run away. I am going out to seek to reconnect with my memories, to revisit the past, to go back to a place that Boromir shared with me; a place of tranquillity and peace, a place from my childhood that holds only good and happy memories. If I cannot ‘find’ him there then I will know that he is truly lost to me and I will have to endeavour to make my peace with all that is gone.

I give you my solemn vow that I will not place myself in danger; the place I seek is safe and secluded and holds no dangers. I am well prepared and have sufficient supplies to last me for the duration of my sojourn. Please, I beg you, do not let them come after me; please ask the King to respect my wishes in this matter. I will return. I will be gone for a few days only and will return to face whatever consequences his Majesty deems appropriate.

I remain, your humble servant.

Faramir


I read the letter through twice before passing it to my Ada for his assessment. I felt a sick tightening in the pit of my stomach.

“Well, Ada! Do you still think that Pippin’s outburst was such a good thing?” I asked, trying to subdue the impulse to bash my head against the table in frustration.

“For sure, it is not the reaction I expected, but he is ever one to confound my expectations!” was Ada’s enigmatic reply.

“He must have been desperate if he felt the need to sneak off like a thief in the night!”

“Desperate, I’m sure, my Son, but desperate for what is perhaps a more interesting question?” I could tell that this was going to another of my Ada’s ‘I’ll prompt but you must work it out’ conversations.

“Desperate for what? You think this is more than a need to seek solitude?” I asked.

“Not consciously, no, but think back? What happened after his last unauthorised absence? What did he expect to happen?”

“He expected to be brought to account, to be punished.”

“And in the event, what actually happened?”

“He misunderstood my intentions and he was injured.”

“Yes, but he wasn’t punished, was he! Because he was hurt you stepped back and allowed his transgressions to go unmarked.”

“Wasn’t the hurt he suffered enough?”

“Not in his eyes, no! The hurts he suffered were self-inflicted… another sign of weakness. There was no atonement for his actions.”

“So you think he is still seeking to be punished.”

“Not exactly. I suspect that he is desperately seeking boundaries, for someone to say ‘enough’. His whole life has been regimented by his rigid sense of duty and by his father’s sanctions. Now, the duty remains but he has no one to reinforce the limits of his actions… and just when he sought to make you the final arbiter of his actions, you stepped back!”

“You think I should have beaten him!”

“No, of course not, Estel, but the truth is that he thinks you should have… in his mind he has cast you in that role. He knows that you have in the past disciplined Pippin… “

“… but I never ‘bothered’ to correct him… so now he is pushing harder to see if he can force me to react!”

“Yes, I believe that is possible, though as I said, this is not a conscious action on his part… but how else can he ‘ask’ for your attention!”

“So what now, Estel?” Legolas asked. “What do you want me to do now? Do we seek him out?”

“No. Either he is still within the Citadel in some secret bolt-hole or he has some means of escaping the confines of the City without detection… I suspect the latter. Remember he has known this city and its secrets all his life. Either way I am inclined to adhere to his wishes. He is at home in the outdoors; he is physically fit and more than adequately experienced in outdoor living. We will allow him his freedom and deal with his actions when he returns,” I explained.

I have great respect for Faramir’s skills and experience and I could only trust his assertion that he was not placing himself in danger. I have no great fear for his physical safety, my major concern remains his emotional state and with this in mind I made a decision.

“Legolas, I would like you and my brothers to ride out to the Harlond, Osgiliath and the Causeway forts. Discreetly explain the situation to the garrison commanders and ask them to be on the lookout for him. If he is spotted he is to be given an escort but must be allowed to return in his own time. I think, however, that it is unlikely he will be seen before he wishes to be, he is too skilled a Ranger to be detected.”

“And how do we explain his absence?”

“If anyone asks, just say he is away on an errand… it is no one else’s concern.”


It was on the fourth morning following my discovery of Faramir’s absence that the wanderer returned. I was sitting at the window of his bed chamber watching as the first streaks of dawn brightened the fading night’s sky when I heard his approach.

It was not the door between his two chambers that swung open but the door to a large oak clothes closet. He emerged into the room and dropped his pack and weapons onto the floor; reaching back into the closet to secure the wood and metal catch.

As the room was still dark he did not immediately detect my presence and I used the interlude to observe him. He appeared fit and unharmed; I couldn’t see his features clearly in the gloom but his posture and demeanour spoke to me of tiredness, bordering on exhaustion. Without bothering to kindle a light or set a spill to the fire he slumped down into a chair and attempted to toe-off his boots.

“Would you like some help with those!” I asked, pitching my voice down so as not to alarm him. I was only partially successful; he was out of his chair in a heartbeat, a small dagger in his hand, pulled from the top of his boot. I held up my hands in a gesture of reassurance.

“I might have guessed you would be the welcoming committee!” he snarled, laying his knife on the floor and returning to the task of removing his boots.

“All part of the service!” My attempt at humour fell on deaf ears and he flashed me a furious glare.

I took the opportunity to light the fire and some lanterns. With the benefit of light I could observe him better. He was grey with fatigue, dark purple shadows rimmed his eyes and his expression was one of all-encompassing melancholy. I could not keep quiet.

“You look terrible!”

“Thank you so much for that!” he obviously hadn’t the energy to maintain even a façade of calm and his response was laden with sarcasm.

“Would you rather I lied to you?”

“No. I’d rather you went away and left me in peace!…but I suspect that is not going to happen, is it?”

“No.” I grinned. He sank back into his seat, defeated. We sat for a while in silence.

“Legolas… Is he very angry?” The question came out as no more than a whisper. He didn’t look at me, just kept his gaze fixed on the dancing flames of the fire.

“Not angry, no.” I wanted to reassure him but I wouldn’t mislead him. “He has been worried, concerned, more than a little exasperated, but not angry.” I let my hand rest on his arm; he flinched and got to his feet, effectively moving away from my touch.

“I should go to him!”

“No, not yet. Let us get you sorted first!” I counselled. “A bath, a hot meal and a change of clothes first and then I will go to him and inform him of your return. You will wait here,” I ordered as gently as I could.

“But I should go … I need to face up to this!”

“Faramir, you will do as I say. You do not want to fight me on this. You will wait here and I will come for you when he is ready to see you. .” He nodded his head, accepting my instructions. “Please just rest here while I go and chivvy the staff to attend you, it will take but a moment.”

Less than an hour later I made my way to Estel’s private quarters, leaving Faramir to pick at his breakfast. I had made him promise to wait in his rooms, threatening to post a guard to stand watch when he seemed reluctant to comply with my wishes.

I explained to Estel and his Elven family that Faramir had returned, detailing the manner of his return and what I had observed of his condition.

“You do not think he has found the peace he sought?” Estel asked me.

“No!” I said sadly, “he remains burdened with sorrow. I would guess from his condition that he has found little rest or comfort in his time away from us.”

“That does not surprise me!” Lord Elrond commented. “What he sought cannot be found in solitude. The answer lies within him.”

Estel drew his Ada aside and the two conferred together, their voices too quiet for me to discern. Lord Elrond disappeared for a few moments, to return carrying another small medicine vial which he handed to Estel.

“Estel,” the Elven Lord said as he walked his foster son to the door, “what you propose is not without risk! You must proceed with caution. Faramir has been brought to the edge, to a point of crisis; it will take little to push him into the abyss.”

“I know Ada, I heed your warning but it is my intention to push him over the edge… and to be there to catch him when he falls,” he said with a determined smile, beckoning me to follow. “Come Legolas, come help me to rescue our poor troubled Steward!”

Chapter 8>

As Legolas and I traversed the corridors the short distance between my own quarters and those of the Steward I was conscious of the strand of anxiety that squirmed uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach. My Ada’s words of warning tumbled and roiled around my thoughts. ‘Estel, what you propose is not without risk! You must proceed with caution. Faramir has been brought to the edge, to a point of crisis; it will take little to push his into the abyss.’

Yes, I had said to my Ada that it was my intention to push him over the edge, and that was still what I planned but I was very aware of the risk I was running. If Legolas was correct in his assumptions, that Faramir had found neither rest nor peace in his time away, then it followed that Faramir’s condition would be even more fragile than previously. Now we had to contend with not only his precarious emotional state but with his physical debility. Yes, we would indeed have to proceed with caution.

I did not take Legolas into my full confidence, not wanting to put him in a position where his intuitive reaction to my proposals could jeopardise the outcome; I wanted his reaction to be instinctive. I asked him to come with me, to stay for the duration of the ‘interview’, however long that took, to support Faramir in whatever manner he could and, most importantly, not to interfere except to prevent Faramir leaving should he appear ready to bolt. I could see that he desperately wanted to question my instructions, to know my intentions but my expression must have told him that more information would not be forthcoming. As we reached the door to Faramir’s chambers Legolas stopped me and turned me so that we faced each other.

“Are you sure of what you intend, My Friend!” he asked, a serene and contemplative expression radiating from his beautiful face. There was no trace of doubt or hesitation in his question, just a questing for reassurance.

“Yes, I’m sure.” I pulled his head towards me until our brows touched; a salute to express my gratitude at his confidence in me. “Come, we will see this through together,” I said as I ushered him through the door to Faramir’s chamber.

Legolas hadn’t been gone for long but in that time Faramir had evidently worked himself into a state of considerable anxiety. His plate of food remained uneaten and he was pacing back and forth like a caged animal.

“Legolas what kept you? I thought you would never… SIRE!…I-I was not… I would have come to you… !” He stuttered to a painful silence and his restless pacing ceased, his frantic gaze shifting between Legolas and myself.

My presence in his room was a shock; he had been expecting Legolas to come and escort him to me.

“Peace, Faramir,” I said attempting to placate him. I kept my place near the door, giving him time to accept the reality of my presence.

Legolas was not so reticent; he moved in close, keeping just enough distance so as not to crowd Faramir. He raised his hands slowly in a gesture of reassurance.

“It is alright, Faramir. All will be well! Trust that we will look after you,” he soothed. Faramir stood as rigid as a statue only his eyes darting anxiously between us.

“I am yours to command Sire!” His voice was quiet, dignified. He stood to attention, his expression chillingly blank, his emotional detachment slamming into place.

Legolas flashed me a glance full of concern as he recognised Faramir’s withdrawal. I signalled for him to allow me to handle the next few minutes. I moved slowly and with great care, not wanting to alarm Faramir further. I moved a chair so that the two easy chairs faced each other by the hearth and took a seat. I addressed Faramir, my words quiet but firm.

“Captain Faramir! Come Sir, we have much to discuss!” indicating that he should take the vacant seat. After only a moments hesitation he complied, though he moved woodenly, as if his limbs wanted to disobey his body’s commands.

“Sit, Captain!”

“Sire, I would rathe… .”

“Sit down, Sir!” I ordered. He sat down on the edge of the seat, every muscle thrumming with tension.

“As I said, we have much to discuss!” I started, “but first I would have you tell me how your fare?” As I spoke, I reached over the gap between us and moved to feel the pulse at his wrist. He pulled his arm away but I refused to retreat and kept my hand extended until he reluctantly held out his hand for me. His skin was cool and dry with no obvious evidence of fever. His pulse was steady and regular, if somewhat fast but I accounted for that by his obvious state of anxiety.

“I am fine, Sir!” he asserted.

“Fine!” I snorted.

“Yes, Sire. I am fine, well, healthy… .you need not concern yourself… I am fine!” Again his depleted emotional state was affecting his communication skills. He had the grace to blush when I raised an eyebrow at his tone.

“You mean fine apart from the fact that you weary to the point of exhaustion,” I countered. He dropped his head and fiddled with the edge of his tunic.

“So now that we have settled that you are ‘fine’,” I continued, “we now need to address the issue of your unauthorised absence!” He nodded miserably.

“I’m sure that you agree that having been called to account once before for leaving the city without permission that I cannot allow this latest transgression to go unanswered!”

“No, Sire. I know that I must make amends… I will submit to your punishment… I expect you to punish me… I need to be relieved of burden of my disgrace!”

“Faramir, there is no disgrace! You erred, yes but there is no disgrace.”

“But there is, Sire! You must see that… you must help me… with my father gone, there is no other help for me!” He was becoming agitated and I wanted to comfort him.

“Gently now, Faramir. We will talk this through… We will not leave you with your distress,” I said. I beckoned Legolas over and he sat on the arm of my chair; I hoped his presence would offer Faramir some reassurance.

“Tell me Faramir, how would your Father have dealt with this matter?”

“I don’t know! I would never have dared to attempt such a thing!” he whispered. I couldn’t help but smile at his honesty.

“Then how do you expect me to deal with you?”

He jumped up out of his seat and strode purposefully over to a large oak chest; he lifted the iron bound lid and retrieved something from its depth. My stomach knotted as I realised what he carried. He held a riding crop resting across his open palms and he presented it to me as though it were something precious.

“Faramir, I cannot do what you ask. Nothing you could do would deserve this!” I explained gently.

“But you must, Sire,” he cried. He was pacing again. “You said you would not leave me with this torment… .you promised!” He was beyond reason now, lost in an enveloping fog of distress. “Are you going to let me down too?…is there no one who will help me! Legolas, please, you claim to be my friend… prove it too me now! Help me!”

I motioned for Legolas to stand back.

“Captain Faramir! Hold!” I ordered and his years of unquestioning obedience came to the fore and he immediately drew himself to attention. “That is enough, Sir. I said that we would discus this and we will do so calmly. Now please, sit down!” He complied reluctantly and slumped back into his seat, his head burrowed into his hands. I took a minute to go over to Legolas and whisper some words of reassurance to calm his distress at Faramir’s outburst.

“Now, Faramir! You are asking me to do something which goes against all that I believe to be reasonable or just. Before I can even consider your request I must know exactly what I would be committing myself to!” Legolas was on his feet at my words, his expression shocked and startled and I had to quickly quell his intervention.

“No, Legolas.Let him speak! Let him tell us of what he has endured so that we may understand.” I turned my attention back to the sad, fragile youngster.

“You must also understand, Faramir, that for me to accede to your request there would be conditions attached!”

“Whatever you say, Sire. I will do whatever you ask!”

“Tell me then, Faramir, how is this feat accomplished? Tell me the procedure? How did your father conduct these proceedings” I urged. I handed him the crop and he twisted it within his hands.

“My father would question me about my actions, exacting the detail until he had a full understanding of my transgressions. Then he would lecture me at length about my shortcomings, making sure that I understood his feelings on the matter and his disappointment in my behaviour; highlighting my weaknesses and failures so that I would understand what I needed to do to avoid repeating those failures,” he said softly

“Go on, Faramir. Tell us what happened then?” I urged.

“Then he would ask me what I deemed to be a suitable punishment for my failures.”

“You mean he made you decide your own punishment!” Legolas was almost bursting with indignation at the blatant cruelty of Denethor’s actions.

“Yes, I would name the tariff,” he confirmed.

“And did he always agree with the tariff you set?” I questioned.

“If he thought it sufficient he would administer the tariff I had declared but if he thought I was being too lenient he would chastise me for my dishonour and cowardice by doubling the tariff!”

“And did he do that often?”

“No, after the first couple of times I made sure that he never had cause to accuse me of cowardice.”

“And you did that by deliberately setting a harsh tariff, one that he couldn’t argue with!” I gasped.

“Yes,” he whispered

“And then what?” I asked.

“Then I would fetch the lash or the cane from his chamber and go to the old library and prepare myself. I would strip off my shirt and boots and place the ‘instrument’ on the chair for him and then I would wait for him to come and deal with me.”

“And did he always send you to the old library?”

“Mostly, yes. Though sometimes if he was particularly angry or in a hurry to get it over with he would deal with me wherever we happened to be… usually in his office or here in my chamber; he would have me lean over a chair or a desk.”

“And when he was done, did he comfort you?” Legolas asked, almost begging for some crumb of comfort to ease the horror of his tale.

“No, never… I don’t remember him ever offering me a comforting touch in my whole life… he beat me and then I would dress myself and thank him for his attentions and he would sweep out without a word… just as I was expected to endure his ‘attentions’ without cry or complaint… once the punishment was decided the whole process was conducted on his part in silence!”

The bleak horror of his words was almost too much to bear but it explained so much; his stoic acceptance, his rejection of physical comfort, his sense of failure; who could grow up under such a regime and come out whole. His heart had been broken time and again by ill treatment and emotional neglect, by deliberate cruelty and by grief; not even Boromir’s support and love could bolster him against such constant hurts.

Listening to him recount his narrative one could almost believe he was reciting a duty report, rather than a catalogue of abuse that had left him beaten bloody. His manner was detached, his expression blank.

The same could not be said of Legolas; I glanced over to him and recognised the look of ill concealed fury in his expression. He nodded to me indicating that he wished to step outside for a minute; I don’t think he trusted himself to remain in the room. He stalked outside, his usual graceful stride disrupted by the angry tension that enveloped him. I envied him the opportunity to leave; I too wanted to explode at the cruelty and injustice heaped upon this sad but beautiful soul but if my plan was to succeed I would need to remain and to keep my feelings in check.

During this brief interlude of contemplation Faramir remained silent, absently twisting the crop within his fists, his mind away from the here and now.

“You told that well, Faramir. Thank you,” I said. “I believe I now understand the process!” He seemed to come back to himself as I spoke and he looked around for a moment in confusion.

“Where’s Legolas?”

“He will return shortly, he had to step out,” I explained. I was gratified that Faramir had noticed his absence. It was an encouraging indication that he did indeed seek reassurance in my fair Elf’s presence. When Legolas did return I noticed that Faramir did seek his gaze and they exchanged a glance of acknowledgement. Small steps indeed!

“Faramir, I know now what it is you ask of me. Now we need to discuss what has led us to this point. I need you now to tell me of your transgressions so that we may move forwards a conclusion of this matter.”

“Yes, Sire.” He paused and took a sharp breath before beginning his catalogue of transgressions.

“Sire, I abandoned my duties on two occasions. I left the city knowing I did not have your permission to leave; I took an inadequate escort, thereby putting myself and my men at risk. I ignored the fact I had not received authority from the Warden to return to active service. I failed to keep you fully informed of Lord Harmil’s attempts to alter the trading controls. I shamed you and your council by attacking Lord Harmil and in my weakness caused upset to two of your honoured companions!”

“Thank you, Faramir… that is quite a list, though I feel that some of these matters have already been addressed!”

“Addressed, yes, Sire… but not atoned for!”

“I see… So we have now established the matters that need to be dealt with. I would ask you now to tell me what you think is a suitable tariff to answer for these misdeeds… “

“Sire! I… “

“A moment, My Lord. I would first remind you that I expect you to pronounce a fair sentence… you do not need to prove your bravery or fortitude to me. If I believe you to be over-harsh in your assessment I will reduce the tariff! I am not here to subjugate or condemn you, Faramir. As I have said before I think this action to be unwarranted and the only reason that I am even considering your request is that I have seen your distress and realise that you believe this to be the only solution!”

“Sire, you cannot do this!…this is not right!” Legolas exclaimed, his voice tight with anger and disbelief.

“Legolas! Hold! If you cannot abide by my wishes and instructions then I will compel you to leave. You know my instructions… Trust that I know what I am doing!” My voice was perhaps sharper than I intended but my own anxiety was mounting.

“My apologies, Estel! Forgive my interruption.” I flashed him a grateful smile and turned my attention back to Faramir.

“So Faramir, what is your judgement? What is a fair accounting for your actions?”

He seemed thrown by my strictures and he looked down at the crop that he still twisted within his grasp.

“Twenty… I would say twenty would answer for all, Sire!”

“I see… that is harsh indeed. What would you have said to Steward Denethor if he stood in judgement in my place?” I queried.

“Double that amount, Sire!” he whispered.

“And would he have accepted your tariff?”

“I couldn’t say, Sire… I believe he would have thought it sufficient… but then he was ever unpredictable in these matters. Do you… do you wish me now to go to the Old Library to prepare, Sire?”

“No that will not be necessary; we will conclude this business here in the privacy of your chambers. I believe that this desk will answer for our purposes,” I said, taking the crop from him. I cleared the desk-top of the clutter of books and parchments and placed the crop on the side.

With my back to Faramir I mouthed ‘Ware!’ to Legolas; we were now at a critical point and I wanted Legolas to be on guard and to be ready to take action if it should prove necessary. I sincerely hoped it would!

I motioned Faramir forward until he stood beside the desk. I carefully raised a hand to his face and lifted his chin up until his eyes met mine. He quailed at the contact but did not back away.

“Faramir, you know that what you have asked of me goes against all that I believe to be just and fair. I do not believe that there is any transgression that you could commit that I would say calls for such a savage reaction. But you have asked, begged me to do this and I know that you truly believe this to be the only answer. I give you one final chance to step back from this path… indeed you would have my gratitude! There will be no disgrace or shame attached. Please,” I urged “release me from this, Faramir!”

“I cannot, Sire. Please don’t ask that of me… Please, don’t turn me away now… how will I ever know peace!” he begged. I studied him and he didn’t flinch from my gaze or give any sign of weakening his stance.

I nodded. “Very well, Faramir. I explained at the outset that there would be conditions attached to my acceding to your wishes. You have fulfilled the first in bravely telling us of your father’s actions. I now call upon you to fulfil another condition!” I said. I removed my tunic and folded it over the back of a chair.

“What is that, Sire?”

“Honour and justice demand that I cannot subject another to a consequence that I am not prepared to suffer… I therefore demand that you administer the full tariff to me before I will proceed with your punishment!”

I handed him the crop and removed my undershirt, taking a position leaning over the desk, my arms supporting my weight. I sensed rather than saw Legolas move; he took a position between Faramir and the door and when I did finally catch his eye I saw a look of comprehension; he finally understood my intentions. Faramir’s reaction came as no surprise.

“NO! You cannot be serious!…do not jest with me..I cannot do that… I cannot hurt you, Sire…not you! It would be treason!”

“Not so! You are under orders… and you have Legolas to testify that I gave you those orders, Sir!… Proceed!” I hoped my words were stated with my intended firmness but in truth I was quailing inside.

“Legolas… help me! Make him see reason… help me! Please help me… I cannot do this!” he begged.

“I cannot countermand a valid order, Faramir. You are duty bound to fulfil the conditions you agreed too… I know you will do what’s right!” Legolas said gently.

“Sire, I beg you… I cannot do this… you have done nothing to deserve such an action… “

“Captain, proceed!” I ordered through gritted teeth. “Do not keep me waiting… I have not your courage or your fortitude… DO IT!”

He stood at my right side and I could sense the anxiety and stress radiating from him. I didn’t look up at him, not wanting to make this any harder than it already was. He placed his left hand on the desk for support and I felt the hand-warmed crop come to rest against my back, the shaking of his hand transmitted to my back through the touch of the crop. I flinched at the touch; the instinct for self-preservation urging me to move away from this source of danger; I gripped the tabletop and kept my position.

“Please, Sire… “ he whispered. A last desperate, tear-ridden plea.

“Proceed!”

I felt the whisper of air as the crop was raised above my quivering shoulders and I waited for the first blow to fall.

Chapter 9>

As I stood and observed, the tension was an almost tangible entity, though I don’t think the other two present in the room were aware of anything but the mess of their own emotions. The tableau before me was tragic and awful and I could not tear my eyes away from it.

Never in all my years could I have anticipated this. I knew that Estel had a plan but I could not have envisioned this turn of events! He had said that he intended to push Faramir but this was a desperate way of securing his objective

I stood watching; watching and waiting to see if Faramir would choose honour or duty; if he would do as ordered or if he would listen to the honourable council of his own heart and step back from this deed.

I could feel his conflict; see how his body shook, caught as he was between two impossible choices, how the crop quivered in the death-grip of his sweating palm, hear his gasping breaths and sense the relentless pounding of his heart. As he stood with his arm raised his head was lowered and I could not see his face for the blanketing curtain of red-gold hair but I could see the wet slashes on the floor at his feet where his tears had fallen in silent confirmation of his anguish.

And Estel? His own anxiety thrummed and writhed in the air between us. I could see the tension in his stance and in the way his fingers clutched at the edge of the table. He raised his head to me only once and he flashed me a smile of such concern and compassion; compassion not for himself but for me who was forced to witness this and for Faramir. I could see now his intention and I marvelled again at the lengths he would go too to rescue a friend in need! In any other circumstance I would not be a passive observer to this tragic, awful display, I would be at his side, guarding and protecting him from wilful harm but I was helpless to act; I had to abide by his wishes and trust that, in his wisdom and compassion, he had read Faramir truly.

Time stilled and seconds stretched to last an eternity.

I heard Faramir whisper ‘I’m Sorry’ as the crop fell.

And time suddenly raced, speeding up until actions and movement blurred. I watched the crop fall through the air to impact with Estel’s shoulder and slide down his sweat-slicked skin to land on the floor. In that same instant Faramir let out a cry, the desperate keening of a lost soul, as he turned away and lurched towards the door, towards me. My role now was to catch him, to hold him and keep him safe. I caught a glimpse of Estel and saw him slump down against the table, the sudden relief of tension running out of him and turning his legs to jelly as the battle-rush ebbed away.

But my focus was on Faramir; he ran straight into my arms, my body blocking his retreat; his desperate struggles to free himself accompanied by the eerie howls of distress. It took me a moment to get a firm grip on him, to subdue him so that he could not injure himself or me. I finally managed to turn him and draw him back against my chest, crossing his own arms in front of him and holding his wrists gently but firmly. Our struggles had managed to propel us so that I was now backed up against the door with him pinned against me. He still struggled and thrashed and he could have hurt me, could have used his head to butt me and cause both pain and injury and yet he did not; even in the extremity of his distress he could not bring himself to hurt me.

All of this time I kept up a constant litany of reassurance, of soothing and gentle endearments whispered against his ear. His own distress was still too loud and vociferous for him to heed my words but I hoped that the essence of what I was saying would somehow filter through his distress and settle within his heart.

With Faramir gently subdued I now turned my attention back to Estel. He was on his feet and had replaced his shirt. He picked up the crop from the floor and threw it into the fire, rubbing his palms against his breeches as though the mere touch of the thing had sullied his skin. With shaky hands he poured himself a drink of water from a carafe on the side table and he flashed me an equally shaky smile.

He had known!

He had known that Faramir would not, could not bring himself to inflict an unearned and unjust punishment on an innocent being… not even when ordered by the highest authority, not even when it was offered as a prequel to him receiving what he considered his just desserts. He had known that Faramir’s strength of character and sense of honour would triumph over self interest; that his gentle and compassionate heart would prevail.

I offered him a smile and he returned it, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’.

Faramir was still fighting me, desperately trying to free himself from my firm but loving embrace. To be held in such close and intimate proximity was for him unbearable and yet I could not let him loose. His struggles, though heartfelt, were ineffectual; even at the peak of his powers his strength he would have been no match for mine and now his strength and his reserves were all but depleted; he simply had nothing left to offer. He struggled because he could not bear the alternative; he could not allow himself the weakness of surrender. He gave one final heave, one last futile attempt to release himself from my grasp and then he simply collapsed. His legs would no longer support him and my arms were the only thing holding him upright.

I allowed myself to slide down the door taking him with me until we were both sitting on the floor, my knees bent up on either side of him, helping to cradle him against my body. I still had his arms pinned across his chest and he huddled his knees up against his body, curling his head in tight. He may have surrendered the fight but he was not yet ready to surrender in spirit. I kept up my constant, whispered narrative of reassurance, my chin resting on Faramir’s hunched shoulders.

Estel had moved to join us and he settled on the floor facing us, his legs crossed.

“Faramir,” he whispered softly, letting his hands rest on Faramir’s knees, his thumbs moving against red-gold hair.

“Leave me alone!” the whispered words were muffled and accompanied by an involuntary shudder.

“I’m sorry, Faramir. I know you don’t see it but I had no choice… I had to make you see!” Aragorn said, not withdrawing his hands.

“You tricked me… lied to me… you never intended to help me, did you? It was all a sham. I trusted you!… I TRUSTED You!” He exploded into motion again, taking me by surprise and almost freeing himself from my grasp. “I could have hurt you!” he choked.

“No, Faramir! My brave, brave Steward. I knew you would never hurt me!” Estel crooned. “I knew you would not hurt me… just as I could not do that to you!”

Estel slid his arms around Faramir’s shoulders and pulled his curled body against his chest. I released my hold on his wrists and rubbed up and down his upper arms in what I hoped was a soothing manner. We must have presented a curious picture, huddled together on the floor, Faramir enfolded between us.

“Why?” The question was uttered after a long period of silence.

Such a small word for such a big question. I wasn’t sure of the context of the query but I left it to Estel to discern where Faramir’s thoughts were going.

“Why, what, Faramir?”

“Why… why do you hold me? I-I don’t understand! You don’t need to… it is not necessary. I will not try to get away… I could not even if I wanted to… just do with me what you will and get this over with! I no longer have the energy to care!” For the first time he raised his head briefly and I could see the relief in Estel’s troubled eyes. Estel tilted Faramir’s chin up and waited for their eyes to meet.

“Tell me, Faramir,” Estel asked, “do you remember the evening when Pippin got so upset?” Faramir nodded and tried to duck his head away as the memory of that distress hit him again; Estel wouldn’t allow him to retreat. “Easy, Faramir… it’s alright! Remember how upset Pippin was… how he beat on your knees in his distress? Tell me what you did, Faramir?”

“I talked to him. I tried to make him understand!”

“Yes you did,” Estel smiled, “but what else did you do?”

“I don’t understand!”

“Did you leave little Pippin alone in his distress?”

“No… no I picked him up.”

“Why? Why did you do that? Why did you hold him?”

“He was so upset… he wanted to remember Bor-Boromir and he thought I didn’t care!”

“So you held him to soothe and comfort him, Yes? And that is exactly why we are holding you now, Faramir… .to sooth and comfort you in your distress. We cannot bear to see you hurting and not offer you the comfort that you so desperately deserve. Never again will we leave you to suffer your distress alone. We care for you, Faramir. We care for your wellbeing and happiness. You are suffering and we cannot and will not allow that to continue.” When Estel dropped his hand from supporting his chin, Faramir again dropped his head forward to shield his gaze from view.

“If you had only done what I requested,” he whispered, “I would not now be suffering the burden of guilt!”

“Faramir. It is not necessary to be beaten bloody to achieve absolution. There are other ways!” Estel said, gently shaking the curled body.

“NO!… No, not for me. It is my duty to submit!”

I could not keep quiet. “You would submit without question or complaint to your Father’s lash and yet you turn away when those who care about you offer you a caring touch! Why is that, Little Ranger?”

“Because I deserved the lash!…..”

“And?” I thought he wouldn’t answer but he surprised me.

“I-I don’t deserve the comfort… .comfort is for women and children… not for warriors!”

“Oh, Faramir! You are so very, very wrong.” I grasped his arms and swivelled him around towards me, bringing us both up onto our knees, face to face. “Everyone deserves the loving attention of those who care for them. Am I weak in your eyes? Is Estel? Do you think any the less of us because we seek and welcome the love and comfort of others?” I demanded, pulling his resisting body to me and crushing him against my chest

“Of course not… but you are an Elf and he is a King and you are above the weaknesses of lesser men!”

“You are not a lesser man, Faramir!” Estel insisted. “You are unique and special to us. Not because you are our Steward, not because you are a son of the house of Hurin, not even because you are a brother of our dear friend Boromir… but because you are you, Faramir!”

“You are wrong. You will see before long… No matter how hard I try, I cannot help but display the weakness that my father saw so clearly. You are kind and I know that you mean well but I cannot change the truth of my nature. Has it not been proved to you over the last few days? … and now you have refused me my only means of… .my father beat me, yes, but he did it for my benefit… to purge me of the weakness that blighted his opinion of me… he wanted to make me stronger… to be more like… to be more like Boromir!”

“Aye, it all comes back to Boromir, doesn’t it?” Estel said sadly, patting Faramir on the shoulder as he rose to his feet. “Come, my friends, my bones are too old and creaky for sitting on cold floors. Let us find a more comfortable venue for our discussions.” He helped Faramir to his feet and I rose with him. Faramir seemed shaky on his legs and we both supported him to a long low settle near the fire.

With the two of them settled I stepped out and retrieved a tray of refreshments I had requested earlier. Faramir was shivering, not from cold, for the room was warm; more I suspect from tiredness and a reaction to the emotional distress of the mornings events. I snagged his woollen robe and drew it around his shoulders. He ate little and while we ate he slumped back against the cushions and watched the flickering dance of the fire.

I knew from experience what would happen now. Faramir was exhausted and vulnerable but he was at last reasonably calm. Estel had truly pushed him over the edge and we had halted his fall, now we had to build him back up again with our love and understanding; we had to gently lead him to a point where he would accept our care and attention, if not willingly then at least with the reassurance that we have his best interests at heart.

Estel is a master at this, he sees beyond the words and actions of those in his care; he sees into hearts and unscrambles the convoluted stranglehold of grief and remorse. He has rescued me from my demons more times than I can recall and I will draw on that experience now to help him reach out and rescue my dear Little Ranger.


In battle situations, in times of threat, instinct takes over and there is no time to fear; the fear, the reaction comes later when the battle rush fades and the realisation of possible consequences finally breaks through. I have been in many frightening situations in my life but never have I stood waiting for a beating. That is not to say I have never been punished, for I have found myself many times on the receiving end of a sincere and painful chastisement but they were always performed by those who cared for me; who delivered a loving chastisement, meant to nurture and protect.

But to stand waiting in fearful anticipation!

Nothing could compare to that. My heart was pounding in my chest, my mouth dry and my palms slick with sweat as they supported my weight over the desk. I couldn’t help but quiver with dread, acutely conscious of every sound within the room, of Faramir beside me; his distress even more evident than mine.

The waiting was gut-wrenchingly awful. I couldn’t bear it… and yet I had no choice; I had been waiting only moments, Faramir had waited for me for hours! His courage and fortitude never fails to astound me. Inside that frail, vulnerable frame is a core of matchless strength.

When I felt the touch of the crop leave my shoulder and sensed the whisper of air as it hung poised to descend for the first stroke I knew real fear. I thought I had misjudged Faramir’s nature. But I was not wrong. He turned away in his torment, a heartrending cry torn from the very roots of his soul.

He would not hurt me!

He would not hurt an innocent being, though I felt anything but innocent for reducing him to such extreme distress but we were past the greatest hurdle. As I waited to regain the strength in my traitorous legs, I relied on Legolas to keep Faramir safe. I had confidence that my dear friend would utilise his prodigious strength and tender compassion to keep Faramir from harm. I could hear him, even through the pounding in my own ears, soothing with his voice as he captured the flailing limbs of my distraught Steward

He is calm now; gentled to a state of passive acceptance by my dear Elf’s comforting endearments and loving embrace and, I hope, by my reassurances. In a very real sense he has already surrendered himself to our care; he no longer has the strength or the inner resources to resist the desperate cry of his own heart for comfort… he just doesn’t realise it yet. For so long he has blocked out the call of his heart, knowing that he would find no relief or succour, that he no longer recognises his inner voice. His exhaustion is in danger of tipping him into sleep and I do not want this window of opportunity to slip away; to risk allowing him to pull back into place his well perfected art of concealment.

Legolas had his arm extended along the back of the seat and as Faramir had slumped down in the seat his head had come to rest on the slender Elven limb. Legolas curled his arm around, pulling Faramir’s back to rest against his chest. It wasn’t quite an embrace and he didn’t resist but he did flash me an anxious glance that screamed of apprehension, as though he feared I would call him for his ‘weakness’.

“Faramir,” I asked, “tell us something of your childhood. What is your first memory of being disciplined? Did your father involve himself in care, in your upbringing?”

His gaze went distant, as though this exercise in returning to his past required great effort. Suddenly a small brief smile played across his face.

“Mimi!” he exclaimed, “The first person to lay a correcting hand on me was Mimi!”

“Not your Father then!” I queried.

“No, he didn’t involve himself when I was a youngster.”

“So tell us about your Mimi?”

“Mimi, Lady Mimaver, was a kinswoman of my mother. I believe she came to Gondor as a companion for my Mother on her marriage. When my Mother died she stayed on to look after us. I suppose you could say she was my Nanny; Boromir was by that time already under the care of a tutor,” he said, lost in the memories.

“I would have been about seven and Boromir twelve, for he had progressed from the schoolroom to the cadet barracks to begin his military training. It was approaching the Midsummer Fayre, the highlight of the year. Tradition had it that the cadets put on a display of their skills in a series of tournaments and exercises and it was all Boromir could talk about; he was so enthusiastic and his excitement rubbed off on me! Every afternoon when my lessons were finished, Mimi and my personal Guard would take me down to the practice field to watch them train.”

“On the day of the Fayre I was bouncing so much that I couldn’t sit still for my lessons. When it was time to go, we walked down through the levels and I remember feeling ten feet tall. As you can imagine there were big crowds and I was in such a hurry to see Boromir that I dashed away from my attendants. When I got to the arena I could see the Cadets forming up, and in my excitement I ducked under the fence and headed straight for Boromir… right into the path of a mounted troop!”

“The next thing I knew I was flying through the air, snagged up by my collar and the seat of my britches by the Cadet Commander, a giant of a man with a mean face and a very loud voice! He yelled at me and threw me over the fence into the arms of my Guard who had arrived just in time to witness my impetuous actions.

“‘Take his Lordship back to the nursery and impress upon him the folly of trespassing where he does not belong!’ The Commander bellowed at my Guard, and with a salute to Mimi he marched back to his cadets. I was carried, kicking and screaming back up to the Citadel. I can vividly recall the rage that gripped me. Even when the Guard whacked my backside I didn’t cease, so he clamped me under his arm and gagged my screams with his hand.

“When we arrived at the nursery I was unceremoniously handed to Mimi and very quickly found myself balanced over her knee, with my breeches around my ankles as she spanked me… long and hard! When she had done with me, she stood me on my feet, rearranged my clothing and instructed me to apologise to the Guard for my disgraceful behaviour.

“I remember I was so upset that I could barely get the words out. When the Guard left I turned back to Mimi and I was horrified to see that she was crying too. I was more distressed by the fact that I had made her cry than I was about missing the tournament or the spanking… I flew into her arms and she hugged me so hard I could scarcely breath. I think I fell asleep in her arms.” Faramir explained, lapsing back into a thoughtful silence. I noticed that Legolas was rubbing Faramir’s shoulder in a gentle, soothing gesture.

“And did she ever have to repeat her lesson in acceptable behaviour?” Legolas asked, with a cheeky grin.

“No… no I was on my best behaviour, one lesson was quite enough… and she left me not long after!”

“Why? What happened?” I asked, seeing the shadow cross his face.

“I turned eight! And I was considered too old for a Nanny. I was introduced to my Tutor on my eighth birthday; the nursery was turned into a schoolroom and Mimi returned to Dol Amroth…I never saw her again!” Oh, this was harsh indeed; another abandonment in a lifetime of losses.

“I’m sorry!” I said, taking his hand “That must have been so very difficult for you… you must have missed her greatly.”

“Aye. I was more aware of her absence than I was of the loss of my Mother; my Mother was ill for so long that my memories of her were fragmentary; a sense of her presence rather than clear memories, but Mimi was such a vibrant and loving person and for many years she had devoted herself to my care,” he whispered. “How could I have forgotten that… I hadn’t thought about her in years?”

“Perhaps that is because her leaving was so painful for you! Sometimes it is easier to lock memories away when there remembrance causes us distress!” I said gently. He simply nodded miserably.

“What of your Tutor? Was he a good man?”

“I was terrified of him at first and I was determined not to like him! He was tall and thin with black hair, a pale face and a beak-like nose… he looked very forbidding. But I soon discovered that he was a good teacher and he always treated me fairly. He expected me to work hard but I was a diligent student and he always made his lessons interesting. If I finished my set tasks he would take me to the archives and we would explore the old texts and parchments.”

“And did he ever have cause to chastise you?” I asked.

“No. He had a ruler and he would wrap my knuckles if my attention wandered but generally we got on well. I enjoyed my studies and he was always very encouraging. I missed him when I left the schoolroom for the Cadet barracks.”

“I’m sure!” I said. “I know something of how Cadets were trained. It was not an easy life, was it?”

“No… it was harsh and as the son of the Steward and the younger, weaker brother of Boromir I had a lot to live up to. It was hard to measure up favourably to that sort of expectation. It wasn’t until I showed an aptitude for archery that I began to be accepted in my own right. I was never good with as sword, I didn’t have the build or the strength but I made sure I could beat all-comers on the range… even my Father couldn’t decry that skill!”

“So when did he start to take a hand in your discipline?” I asked.

“When I became a Cadet! Each week the Training Commander and I would present ourselves to the Steward and he would quiz the Commander on my progress both in my studies and out in the field; successes, failures, merits and demerits. He would always end by demanding to know of any sanctions or punishments I had incurred. Then he would lecture me, in front of the Commander, about my failings and weaknesses. The first time he was told I had received a thrashing he was livid. The favoured method of punishment for Cadets was a birch, a bundle of long slender birch twigs bound at one end to create a handle. It was applied to the miscreant’s bare back. It was very painful but designed not to inflict injury. Anyway, when he learned that I had earned a beating he sent me all the way down to the barracks to retrieve the birch and then he had me strip off my tunic and shirt and proceeded to repeat the punishment, doubling the tariff as a warning not to show such weakness in the future. After that I had to bring the birch with me to every audience just in case it was needed!”

“And when did he progress from using the birch to more extreme methods?” I asked.

“When I graduated from the Cadets,” he explained. “He said that I was doing an adult’s job and I should suffer an adult’s punishment.”

I found it disturbing that Faramir could recite this catalogue of abuse so calmly and with so little appearance of distress, it was as if he were talking about things happening to another person rather than himself; it said much of his ability to close himself off from difficult or painful recollections.

There was much more that I wanted to ask him about but time was moving on and I could see him sagging under the weight of his exhaustion. Legolas helped him to his feet and I sent him off to his bathing chamber to prepare to rest.

While Faramir was thus engaged Legolas and I stood together at the window of his bedchamber and looked out over the noon-tide city.

“Do you think he realised how neatly his tale played into your hands?” Legolas asked me.

“No. I don’t think he is in any condition to analyse what he was saying or the significance of it. I think his guard is so low that he was speaking without conscious thought or without any attempt at concealment. I think he was surprised at some of the things he revealed.”

“And are you going to attend to him now?” my Fair Elf asked.

“Yes, though I don’t believe he will be able to tolerate much. He is too fragile to deal with all of the matters that require attention. We will need to spread this lesson over more than one session.”

“We will need to tread carefully, Estel!” Legolas’ voice carried an under layer of concern.

“We will give him our best attentions. We will not fail him!” I soothed. “When we are done, would you stay with him?” I asked. “I want him to remain here in his room, resting until I give him leave to return to duty.”

“And how do you propose I go about keeping him resting?” Legolas blustered.

“The force of your personality… plus physical restraint, if necessary!” I laughed. “I will dose him up with Lord Elrond’s medicine when we are done here and again after supper. That should at least allow him to sleep peacefully until tomorrow. After that we will have to see what happens!”

We heard movement that suggested that Faramir was returning. Legolas took a seat on the bed and patted the mattress on his right indicating that Faramir sit beside him. As Faramir took his place I moved a chair forward so that I was sitting right in front of him, close enough that I could place my knees on either side of his. He tensed when I took his hands and I smiled as Legolas placed a hand on his shoulder and murmured some words of encouragement. Faramir raised his eyes to mine and took two or three deep breaths, consciously allowing his tension to ease away as he exhaled.

“I know that this morning has been very difficult for you, Faramir, but you did very well. We are very proud of you!” I praised him. “But we still have some matters to deal with before I let you rest. You revealed something very important when you told us your stories. Do you know what that was?”

“No, Sire.” His puzzled gaze switched from me to Legolas and back. I smiled at his innocent confusion.

“You told us about Your Mimi and how she had occasion to chastise you for running away from her and putting yourself in danger… “

He interrupted me “It seems I haven’t outgrown all my childish folly,” he said with just the hint of a smile.

“Yes, well! That wasn’t quite the point I was trying to make but, yes! Though now it is yourself you seek to run from!” I confirmed, squeezing his hands to show my understanding.

“Never mind, Little Ranger. We will help you to work on that habit!” Legolas teased, playfully ruffling the blushing Steward’s hair.

“No!” I continued, “The point I was trying to make was that despite your Father’s harsh and unjust punishments, you have in the past received lovingly applied discipline; discipline enacted to nurture and protect you and undertaken in such a way that you felt safe, loved and protected!”

“I don’t understand, Sire!”

“Yes you do, Faramir. The answer is there in the story you told us. Mimi held you over her knee and spanked you ‘long and hard’ and yet despite the pain of her attentions you went straight into her arms to be loved and comforted. And you felt so safe in her embrace that you fell asleep. What greater demonstration can there be of love and trust? She loved you so much, Faramir, that she would not allow your dangerous and heedless actions to go unanswered,” I explained gently. “And that is why, my brave Steward, I now intend to repeat her actions!”

I watched him carefully and saw the slow realisation dawn upon him. I kept a tight grasp of his hands as Legolas put an arm around his shoulder. We both saw him pale and then blush, his breathing becoming rapid and shallow as his body prepared for flight.

“Oh… no… you can’t. yo-you mustn’t! Oh, please no… no! I am no longer a child in the nursery to be upended… Legolas… please… please!” he begged.

“Gently, Faramir. There is nothing to fear! You can trust us to keep you safe, but this is fair and just. For your own peace of mind we must give you the opportunity to atone for your misdeeds and, more importantly, to forgive yourself.” Legolas crooned. “You have lived with guilt and fear and grief for too long and we cannot allow that to continue; it is damaging your health and your peace of mind.”

I released his hands and cupped his face between my palms, leaning forward until our foreheads touched. “Faramir you will be alright, we will allow no harm to come to you. You will be spanked and you will put all of this behind you and you will allow yourself to accept our comfort.”

I got to my feet and moved the chair away, giving Legolas a few moments to continue calming Faramir.

I knew that the next few moments would be crucial in building a trusting relationship with Faramir. I needed to make sure the coming experience was totally different to what he had endured at Denethor’s hands. But Faramir’s narrative had described that horror in excruciatingly vivid detail and I now knew what I had to avoid.

Yes, the spanking would be difficult and painful to endure but it would be the emotional aspect that was most difficult for Faramir. He had learned to endure physical pain without cry or complaint and a hand spanking could not begin to compare with a lash or a whip. But Faramir had learned to enact an emotional distance during his punishments, locking his emotions in so tight that the physical pain could be weathered in silence; a process enabled by the physical and emotional detachment of Denethor, who could beat his Son bloody, without a nurturing touch or a word of comfort, and all in the guise of helping him to be strong. Such a process was a travesty of loving discipline! I would not allow him to erect that barrier nor would I allow him to retreat into his internal cell of self-preservation.

When I turned back Faramir was no longer sitting with Legolas but was standing at the foot of the bed, leaning over, his hands tightly gripping the wooden bed-stead.

“Faramir, what are you doing?” I asked gently, moving to his side.

“Is this alright, Sire? Is this where you want me? Or should I move to the desk? I haven’t… ? I don’t know… how- how to do this, Sire. I’m sorry… so sorry..I just… I don’t know!” His words came out as an almost incoherent babble, his grip on the wood getting tighter and more desperate as he spoke.

“Peace, Faramir,” I soothed, peeling his rigid fingers free. “You don’t have to do anything. Just follow my lead; you don’t have to do anything.”

With an arm around his shoulder I led him slowly back to where Legolas waited for us. As I sat down on Legolas’ right side I moved my arm from his shoulder to his waist and gently guided him down over my lap. At the last second he tensed and went rigid, the enormity of his predicament suddenly slamming into him, but at that moment Legolas reached out and helped to ease him down. With Legolas and me side by side Faramir lay across both our laps, his abdomen on me and his chest supported by Legolas. We sat back far enough that I could draw his legs up to be supported by the mattress.

He wriggled and fidgeted, seemingly unable to keep still or to find a way in which to lay. Even our combined efforts to calm or settle him seemed to make no difference and I was on the point of commencing the chastisement when I heard his whispered cry.

“Legolas,” he whispered, his voice laden with barely suppressed tears. “Help me… I don’t… I don’t know what to do with my hands!” Legolas flashed me a grin at this odd but endearing admission.

“Here, my brave Little Ranger! Hold on to my hand. Hold it as tightly as you like, you will not hurt me!” With his hands grasping Legolas’ left hand under his chin he seemed to calm slightly. I eased up the hem of his nightshirt and tucked it up out of the way.

“Are you ready, Faramir?” I asked.

He answered with an almost imperceptible nod of his head; I tightened my hold on his waist and drew him tightly against me.

The first fall of my hand was gentle, hardly more than a pat but I didn’t want to frighten him. I set up a steady pattern, increasing the strength of my spanks gradually until I reached a point that was sincere without being severe. By the time I had painted a rosy glow on the pale skin he was weeping the same silent, desperately controlled tears that he had share with Pippin. Legolas was whispering a poem of reassurance, comforting him with his words and his caresses.

Now I wanted to talk, to get Faramir to get him to hear the words I hoped would break through and release the dam that contained his grief. He was struggling now, holding and releasing his breaths in gasping, explosive sobs. My hand continued to fall in a steady, even rhythm leaving no part of his pink, warm flesh unattended.

“Faramir, you ran away from the city. You left to find Boromir, to find your connection to your brother… tell me, My Steward, did you find him?”

“Noooo!”

“No, what, Faramir?”

“No… no, I didn’t find him! He… he’s gone!”

“So you abandoned your post, ran away for nothing?” I felt guilty for pushing him but I needed to get through the barriers he was hiding behind.

“NO! I didn’t run! I went to find Boromir!”

“But he wasn’t there, was he?”

“No… h’s gone!”

“And then you had to come back and face up to your actions, to face me, with all that pain and grief still locked up in side of you?”

“Yes, Sire… .I’m sorry… so-so sorry.” He was weeping harder now and I continued to spank him.

“Faramir, you haven’t lost Boromir, you were just looking for him in the wrong place!” I explained gently.

“No… no… he’s gone! Every night I see his boat floating away from me!” he sobbed, still fighting to keep his grief contained, lest it overwhelm him.

“No, Faramir, that is just a dream, a vision. Your Boromir is still here, still inside you, just waiting for you to set him free.”

“He’s dead! You saw him. He’s dead… he left me!” He yelled.

“Yes, my friend. He is dead. But in your grief you have locked your memories so tight inside of you that they cannot break through! Only you can free him from that prison, Faramir, only you can set those memories free.”

He was so close now that it took just a few harder spanks, concentrated in one spot, to push him over the edge.

“Let it go, Faramir!” I demanded. “Let down the walls and let your pain go. Let Boromir’s memories out of the prison of your heart. Give us your grief, Faramir!” I said. “Let us help you bear that burden!”

The last blow fell and he finally collapsed and allowed his grief to wash over him in a raging, uncontrollable torrent. Between gasping, soul shaking sobs he called out over and over for Boromir. Neither Legolas nor I could hold back our own tears.

I gathered him up against my chest, his head in the crook of my arm, his legs curled around behind me. I soothed and whispered my own endearments against his face, pressing chaste kisses against his brow. Legolas enfolded us both within his embrace, rocking us all gently.

It seemed that Faramir cried out his grief for hours, until my sleeve and tunic were soaked with his tears. Gradually he did calm, his breathing settling to the occasional hiccoughing sob, his face burrowed into the fabric of my tunic.

“How do you fare, Faramir?” I asked quietly, brushing the damp, red-gold curls away from his swollen, tear-streaked face. I received no answer and I leaned him away from me slightly so that I could see him better.

There would be no need for Lord Elrond’s sleeping draught.

Faramir was deeply asleep.

Chapter 10 >

It was a quiet, peaceful vigil. From my chosen perch on the window-sill of Faramir’s chamber I kept a watchful guard, ready to move at the first sign of distress. As I watched I gained rest and comfort from the fragrant night-time air and the lilting lullaby of the breeze through the velvet darkness of the garden.

Faramir slept easily with no indication of nightmares or distress. He looked so fragile, so young in slumber, as if the weight of cares had slipped away, leaving him in his true state; as he should have been without a lifetime of sadness and grief to blight his youth and force upon him a maturity of spirit that far outpaced his mortal years.

He lay on his front, his arms furled around the pillow that supported his chest and head, his face turned towards me. He had not stirred all night, not since Lord Elrond and Estel had roused him at supper time to take a drink of warm broth, laced I suspect with another of the Healer’s potions.

I had the long night to think back on what had happened yesterday, on how we had finally guided Faramir to accept the care he so desperately needed and unconsciously craved. Each fresh remembrance of witnessing his heartrending anguish as he finally gave free-rein to his grief brought a fresh wash of tears to my own eyes. I let them fall; there was no one to witness them and those whose opinion mattered to me would not begrudge me my sorrow, indeed they would have supported or even joined me in acknowledging my pain.

It should not have surprised either of us that Faramir had fallen so quickly to sleep, especially given his exhausted state before we began but that he fell asleep in Estel’s arms did surprise and delight us both. It spoke of an underlying trust in us to keep him safe, and that degree of trust, given his previous experiences, was a blessing we had only hoped to see.

We sat for a long time with him cradled between us, neither wanting to cut short the blessed interlude or to risk disturbing his rest by moving him. But we could not stay like that indefinitely and it was with great reluctance that we lifted him gently into bed and settled him onto his front and tucked the covers around him; determined that no discomfort would disturb his rest.

Estel had asked me to stay with Faramir but I had needed no urging; I would not have left him, I did not want to risk him waking alone. His spanking had been sincere but lenient by Estel’s standard. He had been in no condition to receive the full ‘attentions’ of my dear friend; I have been on the receiving end of those attentions enough times to know that Faramir had indeed been let off lightly. But Estel had achieved his purpose; he had encouraged Faramir to accept his care and in doing so had allowed Faramir to begin to release some of the pent-up grief that was paralysing him. Faramir had surrendered himself in body and spirit, finally demonstrating his trust in us.

But both Estel and I both knew that it would not be enough! Faramir, in his exhaustion, had fallen asleep so quickly that we had not had the opportunity to reinforce the message of our unconditional love and support with our words and actions, indeed there was a real possibility that he had been so distraught that he would not remember much of what we had discussed both before and during his chastisement, when he awoke.

There were also other matters that needed to be addressed that had not been touched upon in that first difficult trip over Estel’s lap; it had been a first step but there would need to be other lessons and I knew that Estel would not wish to see these matters left neglected for too long. His concern for Faramir was too great for him to allow Faramir to suffer them for any longer than necessary. He had not stated a time but I knew it would not be long.

I heard the familiar footsteps in the corridor that preceded the quiet knocking on the door. Estel put his head around the door and at my beckoning him came inside, followed by a servant bearing a breakfast tray.

“How is he? Did he have a good night?” he asked, after silently observing the sleeping youngster for some moments.

“Perhaps Faramir would like to answer that himself!” I replied, sensing that Faramir was indeed awake, though his eyes were still closed. Estel grinned and tenderly brushed the tangled locks away from Faramir’s face seeking to get a better look at him.

“How fares my Steward this morning?” Faramir peeled open one eye, grunted an unintelligible response and buried his face into his pillow.

“Hm, as good as that! I see!” Estel smiled fondly

“As Faramir seems reluctant to give his own report this morning, Sire, I can tell you that he slept soundly and has barely moved since you and Lord Elrond tucked him up last evening!” I grinned.

“Come, Faramir, the cooks have provided all of your favourites for breakfast. You should eat it while it is hot. Oh, and Lord Elrond has sent along some more of his ‘special lotion’ to relieve your discomfort and allow you to sit comfortably while you eat!” Estel grinned, ruffling Faramir’s red-gold mane affectionately.

Even from the window I could see the heated flush that spread across his face. “Would you like some help applying it!” I teased, laughing at the muffled grunt that was Faramir’s only response.

“You did not object last night.” The opportunity to tease was just too good to resist.

WHAT!”

He shot up out of bed then, flashing an outraged glare between Estel and myself, pouting to see our fond and teasing smiles. He all but snatched the pot of lotion from Estel’s hand and disappeared into his bathing chamber.

“I take it that’s a ‘no’ then!” I called after him, ducking the swat that Estel aimed at my ear.

“Behave, Legolas! Perhaps he does not share your wicked sense of humour first thing in the morning!” Estel chided, though not without a knowing grin.

“I know, but it just so good to see that spark from him, so much better than that awful passive acceptance we have seen recently.” I explained, helping Estel to straighten the bed and rearrange the pillows while Faramir was busy.

“He seems to have survived his ‘ordeal’,” I said quietly, not wanting to be overheard.

“Ay, but he has not yet had chance to think on it. Do not lower your guard too soon my friend, I suspect his emotions are still labile, I would rather he not be left alone today. Frodo has offered to visit with him later so that you can have a chance to get a change of scenery for a while.”

“But I am fine!” I explained, “I don’t want… need a change! I want to stay here!”

“Legolas, you will do as I ask.” Oh, Estel was in ‘command’ mode and I should have known better than to argue with him. “These last few days have been difficult for us all and you have shouldered a greater burden than any of us. I will not allow you to jeopardise your own well being. You WILL take a break later and leave Faramir in Frodo or Lord Elrond’s capable hands!”

“But Estel… !”

“Legolas, do I need to impress upon you the importance of following instructions!” Estel said in that tone of authority I recognised all too well, and ignored at my peril.

“No, I understand!” I accepted but I didn’t have to like it.

“Understand, what?” Faramir asked from the doorway.

“I was just impressing upon our Elf Friend here the importance of obeying instructions and reminding him of the consequences should he choose not to!” Estel explained, ushering Faramir back to bed and settling the breakfast tray on his lap. “It is a lesson you would do well to heed, Faramir,” he said, fixing him with a firm but gentle stare. Faramir nodded and flashed me an uneasy glance before turning his attention to his meal.

“Faramir, you are to remain here in your chambers, resting, until I give you leave to return to your duties. I want you to stay in bed today. You may have visitors but you are not to get up and dressed or to do anything related to work; your secretary has been instructed to pass all matters to my office for attention. Do I make myself clear, My Lord!” Estel instructed in a ‘no-nonsense’ manner.

“Yes, Sire… .but what will I do?”

“You will do nothing! You will rest or sleep, you may read or have someone read to you; you will relax and allow yourself the opportunity to recover. If you find that resting is impossible I will have Lord Elrond fix you up a sleeping draught, though I would rather you find rest naturally, it is not good to become dependant on potions to achieve peaceful, healing sleep,” Estel explained, first and foremost a healer

Faramir did indeed spend much of the morning sleeping. When awake he did try to read but it seemed that his book failed to hold his attention and he soon dozed off again, the book falling unheeded onto the quilt as he burrowed his way back down into the comforting embrace of his covers. We spoke very little and not at all about the events of yesterday, though I am sure they were never far from his thoughts. He needed time to process what had happened and how he had reacted to it. I knew the words would come eventually and I was quite happy to let him raise the matter in his own time.

Lord Elrond and Frodo both appeared at noon and after we had all shared a lunch-tide repast I was told, in no uncertain terms, to make myself scarce. I tried one last attempt at a reprieve but Lord Elrond turned his formidable raised eyebrow upon me and I knew that further pleading would avail me nothing. I retreated to my own chamber and after a long soak in a hot bath I donned fresh clothing and made my way to Arwen’s garden. I found Sam there helping Arwen and I joined in their efforts to tame some of the wildness that had overtaken the flower borders.

It was a relief to be in the fresh air and to feel the thrum of nature under my fingers. It was only as my tension and anxiety drained away that I realised how truly tense I had become and I soon succumbed to peaceful reverie, propped up against the smooth welcoming bole of stately rowan tree.

I was brought back to wakefulness late in the afternoon by a rather distraught Sam.

“Legolas, Mr Legolas, Sir… Please Sir, wake up! My Frodo is asking for you!” I quickly shook myself to full awareness.

“What is it, Sam?”

“Please. Mr Frodo needs you. I can’t find Lord Elrond or Strider and Mr Frodo seems dreadfully upset!” the little Hobbit cried, pulling me to my feet and attempting to make me move more speedily.

“Alright, Sam, tell me what happened?”

“I don’t rightly know, Sir. I took a tray full of refreshments to Lord Faramir’s room and when I got there the place was in uproar. Mr Frodo was trying to comfort Pippin who was in a dreadful state and Lord Faramir was nowhere to be seen… seems he shut himself in the washroom, Sir,” the Hobbit explained, short of breath from trying to keep up with my rapid steps.

“Forgive me Sam,” I said, slowing and shortening my stride.

“Never mind me, Sir, you get on as quick as you like, I’ll just follow on.” I took him at his word and hurried along to corridors to the Steward’s chambers.

On my arrival Frodo quickly filled me in on the essentials. It seems that when Lord Elrond was called away Pippin had joined Frodo in keeping Faramir company. They had been having a pleasant visit and during their reminiscences Pippin had told the tale of when Boromir had been instructing Merry and himself on how to use their swords. They had all laughed as Pippin recalled how he and Merry had set upon Boromir and then Aragorn until they were all tangled together in a writhing, tickling bundle. Faramir had joined in the laughter, until his laughter became desperate and his tears of mirth turned to anguish. He had bolted into the washroom leaving a bewildered Frodo to comfort Pippin who was rapidly becoming distraught at having upset Faramir for a second time.

“Frodo, you stay with Pippin and I will see to Faramir,” I instructed.

“Should I take him back to our rooms, Legolas?” Frodo asked

“No. It’s best if you stay here and we sort this out, otherwise we will end up with two guilt ridden souls both blaming themselves where it is not warranted!” I explained, dropping a kiss onto both curly heads.

I knocked on the door of the bathing chamber and called to Faramir; when I got no response I tried the handle. The door wasn’t bolted but something, or someone was impeding my entrance.

“Faramir, will you let me in? Come my friend; do not shut your self away!” I urged, continuing to push against the door firmly.

“… let me be!” I heard the quiet words, though they were no more than a strangled whister.

“No, Faramir. We told you that we would not leave you alone in your grief and I mean to honour that pledge! Move away from the door, Faramir!” I commanded. “Move away now, I am coming in.” I pushed more firmly and managed to open the door enough that I could squeeze through.

Faramir was sitting on the floor, his back to the door, his body curled in upon himself.

“Come, Little Ranger, what is this all about?” I asked. “What has got you and Pippin into such a state? I thought you were having a pleasant visit?”

I expected to find him weeping and though I could see tell-tale tear tracks on his pale cheeks he was eerily silent; he uttered not a word or a sound. The cost of this restraint however was immense, he was rigid, every ounce of strength utilised to keep his surging emotions in check. I had to force his chin up to get a look at his face; when he finally opened his eyes and met my gaze I was rocked by what he allowed me to glimpse.

I had expected to see pain or even anger, anger that I was forcing my presence upon him when what he sought was solitude. What I saw within the depths of his beautiful blue-grey eyes was fear, pure unadulterated fear. Just the sight of it made my blood run cold.

That this brave and fearless warrior could be bought to such extremes filled me with profound sorrow; he who had spent a lifetime facing constant danger, who had ridden to almost certain death without so much as a murmur, who had battled the most evil forces without flinching, reduced now to abject terror by the force of his own emotions. And he had allowed me to witness that fear.

“Help me! Please, help me!” his whispered plea shattered the silence, a call directed straight to my heart. For one brief moment I glimpsed into the very depths of his soul, a heartbeat later the shutters descended and he was closed to me.

I scooped him up from the floor and carried him to a bench. I set him down and then straddled the padded seat, pulling his hunched form against me. I rocked him, using my arms and my voice to try to sooth and comfort him. He was locked deep within himself, using every strategy he had ever mastered to lock down his emotions and protect himself from the ravaging tide that sought to overwhelm him.

I was filled with fear; afraid that I had not the skills or the wherewithal to help him. This situation was what I had feared, why I had not wanted to leave him. I hugged him tightly against me, wanting nothing more than to protect him from his pain.

With profound relief I heard Estel’s voice coming from the chamber beyond, no doubt summoned by the commotion. I couldn’t hear his words but the tone of his voice indicated that he was soothing and calming the Hobbits. I called to him and he poked his head around the door. I didn’t need to say any more, in one glance he had assessed and understood the situation. He went back to the chamber and with a few gentle words he ushered the Hobbits away, directing them to go and seek Arwen, trusting her insight and compassion to help ease their distress, while we concentrated on attending to Faramir.

Only when the door had closed on the Hobbits did he step into the chamber. He knelt on the floor before us and took Faramir’s face between his palms, examining the pale, closed countenance.

“How long has he been like this?” he asked, his eyes never leaving Faramir’s face.

“Since I arrived,” I explained. “He cried out for me to help him but he has not spoken since. I-I cannot reach him, Estel! He has gone too far!!” I whispered, unable to prevent my voice from breaking, so great was my concern.

“Faramir?” he called, his tone firm but insistent. “Faramir, look at me, my Steward … come back to us, Faramir… at once, Captain!” His gentle urging appeared to have no effect and Faramir remained unresponsive, locked within himself.

“It’s alright, Legolas! Do not fear, we will help him through this!” Estel soothed. “Come let us move to somewhere more comfortable!” he said, hefting Faramir’s rigid but unresisting body from my arms as though he weighed no more than a child and carrying him through to the bed chamber. I banked the pillows up against the head of the bed and Estel gently deposited Faramir against them, keeping an arm around his shoulders. I took my place on the other side of him, catching his hands in the hope that he would register my physical presence, that my touch would bring him comfort.

We sat with him for a long time but our presence seemed to pass unnoticed, he remained silent and unresponsive. I was becoming more and more anxious, the silence and my fear for him growing until I could bear it no longer.

“Enough!” I all but shouted. I pulled him towards me, supporting his chest against my arm and lifting him up off the mattress that I had room to administer three sincere swats to his backside.

I was rewarded with a shudder as his right hand shot back to protect his tender behind from further attention; even as Estel’s shocked voice called my name. I ignored Estel’s outraged tone and the glare he flashed in my direction, keeping my attention on Faramir.

“Do I have your attention now, Little Ranger?” I asked, landing a final swat and turning him to face me. Bewildered eyes finally focussed on me and I was relieved to see that Faramir was indeed back with us. I hugged him against me until I could feel the rapid, thundering of his heartbeat against my chest.

Only when I felt him calm and relax against me did I pull him away so that I could again see his face.

“Now, my brave, brave friend, you will tell us what happened!” I insisted firmly. “You are quite safe, we have you and will allow no harm to befall you… .you will tell us now!”

I spared a glance at Estel and whatever irritation he had felt at my unorthodox methods had clearly faded. I could still detect the undercurrent of concern in his expression but he was leaning back against the pillows, his arms folded across his chest and a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth that threatened the promise of retribution. He had obviously decided to leave Faramir to me; he flashed me a wink that spoke volumes of his confidence and trust in me to help our dear Steward through this crisis.

Faramir still had not spoken. Several times he drew in a breath and opened his mouth but no words came forth. He was clearly struggling to find a way to articulate his thoughts but it was all too big, too fearful, he still quaked under the enormity of his long suppressed emotions. He looked at me with an expression of such desperation that I realised that he simply did not have the wherewithal to display the ‘weakness’ of voicing his fears. I again cursed the baleful influence of Denethor’s legacy upon this sad and fragile human.

“Let me help you remember, Faramir!” I urged. “You were enjoying your visit with Pippin and Frodo, Yes!” He nodded. “Pippin was telling you a tale… a humorous tale of how he and Merry had set upon Boromir and Estel; reducing two great and noble warriors to writhing, giggling children… and you were all laughing! What happened then, Faramir?”

He took another deep breath and I could see the effort that it took for him to force the next words out.

“We were all laughing… I was laughing and laughing… .and I couldn’t stop… laughing so much it hu-hurt… and then I wasn’t laughing anymore… it hurt… hurt so much I couldn’t breath… big hu-hurt inside… !” he gasped, clutching at my tunic, face buried within the crook of his elbow.

“Easy, Little Ranger,” I soothed, tilting his face so that I could see him and he me. “Tell me what hurt you so deeply!”

“I could see it… see Boromir… hear his laugh… remember when he had wrestled me and tickled me until I begged for mercy… I remembered… .!”

“And the remembering frightened you?”

“Yes… No… no, not the memories… .not the remembering… the feelings!” He shuddered, his heart rate and breathing speeding and racing. “… the feelings, so big, so powerful … couldn’t breath… out of control… scared Pippin… scared me… “ he whispered, as though the very words themselves were a weakness he shouldn’t dare to utter. His hesitant, fear-filled eyes locked with mine, even as his tears spilled down his pale cheeks.

Yes this was what he feared, what terrified him, what he feared to show, to allow others to see. This brave and courageous man, felled by the enormity of his own emotions, emotions so long suppressed that he no longer knew how to ride out their assault. He had gifted us with his fear, with his vulnerability, allowed us to glimpse the very depths of his soul. I would honour that trust by gifting him with seeing my own heart.

I didn’t look away, didn’t even allow my eyes to blink. I opened myself to him, allowed his keen, perceptive gaze to see deep within me, to show him the depth of my love, the depth of my trust. I had to smile at the slowly dawning realisation that flickered, kindled, blazed across his understanding. He struggled out of my grasp and knelt on the mattress between Estel and me, facing us, his hands resting on his knees, panting for breath as though he had just run a race. He studied us, back and forth, seeking to find any trace of derision or condemnation and finding only fond regard, acceptance and affection.

“Oh… oh!” He fell forward, burying his face into the pillow between us and reaching out with each hand until he held onto our hand’s in a fierce grip, holding on to us as though his very life depended on maintaining that connection.

“Ay, my brave Steward,” Estel crooned, smoothing his free hand over Faramir’s red-gold locks. “There is no shame in tears, in expressing your emotions… .just let go, my dear friend… do not fear your feelings, Faramir. You loved Boromir! That love will stay with you even as your memories stay with you… .grieve for him… honour him with your tears, in time you will be left with only the good memories… .with the love… !” Estel choked, his own grief for our lost warrior sweeping through him.

Faramir looked up at the catch in Estel’s voice and seeing the tears on Estel’s cheeks seemed to release his own control; he let go of all restraint, howling and screaming his grief into his pillow, safe in the knowledge that he was safely anchored to us by his grip on our hands.

Safe. Accepted. Understood.

Chapter 11 >

Even with all the extra help from my Ada, Prince Imrahil and Arwen there was no denying that I was sorely missing the quiet efficiency of my Steward. His well trained and highly competent staff were doing all they could to contain and process the mountain of paperwork that seemed to proliferate but there was much that they couldn’t deal with and I had ordered that those matters be passed on to my office

I was torn; the healer in me wanting to allow him all the time he needed to recover physically and emotionally and the overburdened and overwhelmed King who, perhaps selfishly, wanted to be rescued from the added weight and pressure of these extra duties. And it wasn’t just his administrative efficiency I was missing; I also missed his advice and his council. In a short time I had come to depend on his insight and his perceptive, quiet intelligence to help guide me through the labyrinth of practice and protocol, his unique understanding and intuitive perceptions essential to the smooth ordering of day to day Court life.

I was rescued from my melancholic and highly inefficient paper shuffling by a knock at the door that heralded the arrival of Legolas.

“Estel, I have just had word that Captain Beregond has arrived at the main garrison; I understand you sent for him!” Legolas exclaimed, sweeping aside a pile of papers and setting a mug of hot tea before me. I nodded my apreciation, thankful for the interruption and the refreshment.

“I take it you have rescinded his order of banishment? He did not come under guard!” I could tell Legolas was bursting with a desire to know what I was about but I was in no hurry to inform him.

“Ay… he his here under orders. He will return to Ithilien as soon as I have completed my business with him,” I said with an expression that I knew would only inflame his curiosity.

“How is Faramir this morning?” I asked, changing the subject and smiling at his pout.

“He seems much better. He slept well and he asked to have some time alone. I thought it best to accede to his wishes… .Prince Imrahil has arranged to take lunch with him.”

“That is good. I will ask Beregond to visit with him later, I’m sure they will have much to talk about… .!” I said with a wink.

“Estel… what are you planning! I don’t like that expression… it doesn’t bode well for someone!”

“A test… and possibly a demonstration of consequences!” I explained, smiling at the sudden flare of understanding that flashed across his face.

Legolas was clearly outraged “You are setting him up! After all he has been through! Estel… why?”

“I am not ‘setting him up’, my dear, protective little Elf! Though I believe he may well set himself up! He may not do as I expect… though I would be surprised,” I explained gently. “He needs to understand that we will be watching him and will hold him to account for his action and we still need to convince him that he is worthy and deserving of our friendship… so far we have only dealt with his grief over Boromir! There are still issues that need to be addressed: he still carries a huge burden of guilt that is eating away at him, he still has not faced up to the losses of his comrades or the actions of his Father!”

“Estel! Is he up to such a lesson? I-I know that what you say is true and part of me wants to deal with it all as soon as possible… but is he up to it at the moment?”

“Trust that you and I will see him through this, my Friend!” I said, halting his agitated pacing by pulling him into a brief hug. “We will not be harsh! We will be supportive and firm and loving. We will help him to exorcise his demons so that he may begin to truly heal. He needs us to be strong for him; we will do him no favours by shirking from these responsibilities!”

“I know… I do know, it’s just… !”

“You want to protect him?” I smiled.

“Yes!” he whispered.

“As do I and that is what we are doing, Legolas. We are protecting him from himself.”

I should not tease my dear Elf but it helps sometimes to ease the tension and I know that he takes it in good part. He is confident of my affection and he knows that when I plague him I do so out of affection. I have known him all my life, he was a regular and much admired visitor during my childhood and during my youth it was to him I turned for guidance and instruction when I struggled to achieve the impossible standards I set myself in trying to match the skills of the Elves who were my teachers and my surrogate family.

That is why I now have such confidence in him to help to guide Faramir. He has been down this road before; helping me, guiding me, caring for and correcting me with his unstinting patience and unfailing compassion. I know that he will help Faramir because of all that he is… my dear, incomparable Elf.

But I can still tease him and smile when he pouts at my beleaguering!

As when we traversed the corridors towards Faramir’s chambers I could sense his frustration that he knew not what plan I had set in motion; I could tell that he was biting his lip to prevent the question bursting forth, a question I would not answer until it suited me.

It came as no great surprise to me that we found Faramir’s chambers to be empty when we arrived and I saw the first hint of comprehension sweep over fair Elven features.

“Estel?” he asked tentatively, “did you, by any chance, rescind your orders to Faramir!” he asked hesitantly. I answered with a wink.

“You knew! Didn’t you? You knew he would not be here! Oh, he is so like you!”

“I will take that as a compliment… I think! I suspected he would not be able to resist the temptation to plunge himself back into his duties,” I explained.

“So is that why you sent for Beregond… to tempt him into disobedience. That is hardly fair, Estel!”

“I didn’t tempt him to disobedience… he could and should have stayed in his room and had the social visit with Beregond. It was his choice to go against my specific orders, Legolas, and besides, I wanted Beregond here for a more specific reason,” I explained, struggling to balance my feelings of disappointment that Faramir had disobeyed me with the satisfaction of knowing that he had left the door open for me to proceed with my intention.

“And that was what?” I tapped the side of my nose and winked, eliciting another impressive pout from my Elven companion.

We followed the murmur of voices and found ourselves at the entrance to a small conference room. From the doorway we saw the two men poised over a large map, conferring together and consulting a long roll of parchment before moving tokens to new positions on the map.

Beregond was the first to register our presence and he drew slowly to attention and made to alert Faramir but I halted his action with a wave. Faramir had his back to the door and it was probably the sudden heavy silence or the lack of response from his Captain that finally alerted him to the fact that they were no longer alone. He straightened up slowly and almost hesitantly turned to the doorway, following Beregond’s frozen expression, to find Legolas and me in almost identical poses, arms folded, leaning against the door jam, stern predatory expressions on our faces. Faramir flushed and then paled, dropping to sit in the chair behind him as the silence lengthened.

“Sire! I… um… we were just… “

“Good afternoon gentlemen. I hope we are not interrupting anything vital?” I asked moving forward to examine the map.

“Er… No, Sire. Captain Beregond and I were just discussing troop deployments!” Faramir explained, getting to his feet and indicating the parchment that had fluttered to the table.

“I see! At ease, Captain Beregond. This was not quite the social visit I anticipated when I gave you permission to visit my Steward.”

“Forgive me, Sire. I was keen to discuss some matters with Lord Faramir… I hope I haven’t erred here, Sire?” he muttered, casting an apologetic grimace at Faramir, who had at least regained some colour and a measure of composure.

“Worry not, Beregond. I hold you blameless. It is not you who has erred here,” I explained, pinning Faramir with a frown. “Lord Faramir was under orders to remain resting in his chambers and not to involve himself in any duties until given permission!”

“But, Sire… !”

“You wish to add something, my Lord Steward?”

“Only that I am quite well now, Sire… I saw no harm in consulting with my senior Captain while I had the opportunity.” I saw Legolas grimace at his words and could see he wanted to say something to prevent Faramir digging himself any deeper into trouble. I waved him to silence.

“I see, Faramir! So orders are to be obeyed only when it suits you? A novel approach from my Captain General. How do you propose to prevent the anarchy that will result when the rest of your troops adopt the same principle?”

“… “

“Were my orders clear, Faramir?”

“Yes, Sire,” he muttered unhappily.

“Did you not think it wise to consult with me before seeking to resume your duties?”

“I didn’t think it necessary, Sire. I am recovered… there is no need for me to remain confined to my chambers!” he bristled.

“So you are a healer as well, now?” I questioned, amazed at his tone.

“No, Sire. But I think you should trust me to know what I am capable of. I am not a child and I resent being treated like one!”

“Then I suggest you stop behaving like one. Not two days ago you were barely capable of standing, having driven yourself to the point of collapse, and yet you still expect me to trust your judgement on what you are and are not capable of! Please excuse me if I am less than enthusiastic in acceding to your demands!” I said firmly

“But, Sire… !”

“But nothing, Faramir. Orders are Orders and failure to heed your responsibilities carries consequences.” He shifted uncomfortably as my words hung in the air.

“I apologise, Sire. It was wrong of me to disregard your orders. What would you have me do?”

“I accept you apology and we will deal with the consequences in a moment. There is something else I need to bring to your attention while Captain Beregond is still with us,” I explained, turning my attention to Beregond.

“Captain Beregond. Have you informed Lord Faramir of your new orders?”

“New orders! WHAT new orders! Why was I not consulted about this?” Faramir demanded, causing Legolas and Beregond to wince. I ignored his outburst and kept my attention on the extremely discomforted Captain.

“Well, Captain?” I questioned.

“No, Sire. I have not yet had the opportunity… .I thought it might come better from you, Sire.”

“Hm, did you indeed. Well perhaps now would be a good opportunity… Go ahead Beregond, I can see that Lord Faramir is bursting to know of your new duties!” Legolas was now beside Faramir trying to quell any further ill-advised outburst. Faramir was bristling with barely suppressed agitation, his gaze shooting between the three of us.

“Would someone kindly inform me of what is going on here!” he demanded, no longer able to contain his impatience.

“Beregond! If you please.”

“Yes, Sire,” the unhappy man replied. “My orders are that until further notice, in the absence of yourself or Prince Legolas I am to assume disciplinary jurisdiction with regards to Lord Faramir.” Faramir’s shocked response was immediate and loudly vocal. Legolas was also momentarily stunned before he turned to me with a slow and knowing grin.

“That is preposterous,” Faramir thundered. “I refuse to agree to this. Beregond is a friend and a subordinate; it would be unseemly to expect him to take on such a role. No, Sire… No… I will never agree to submit to such an outrageous suggestion!” Faramir in a fury was really quite an impressive sight, his eyes flashed fire and his whole stance was one of coiled and barely suppressed power.

Before I could formulate a response to this outburst, Legolas had rounded on Faramir, taking hold of his shoulders and engaging his attention.

“Unless you would like to experience Beregond’s disciplinary prowess here and now I suggest you calm down and take a deep breath. The only person whose behaviour is unseemly is yours, little Ranger, so settle down. You are in no position to decide what is in your own best interests. Trust that those who care for you have only your best interests at heart. Beregond has proven beyond doubt that he cares for you and he will take on any responsibilities that he and we deem to be appropriate.”

My fair Prince’s admonition had the desired effect and Faramir settled back into sulky compliance. “Forgive me, Sire, Beregond. I-I do not doubt that you have my best interests in mind… but-but is this really necessary. I give you my word that I will heed your orders and advice in future… can you not trust me to do what is right,” he pleaded. I didn’t answer; just raised an eyebrow in what I hoped was a fair imitation of my Ada, until he looked away in defeat.

“Come Legolas,” I called. “We will leave these two to say their farewells. Beregond, you will find a billet for the night in the barracks, unless you wish to stay with friends in the city; your escort will be ready to leave at first light. Be sure to send word if you encounter any difficulties.”

“Yes, Sire. Thank you, Sire.”

I ushered Legolas from the room. “Faramir, I would see you in your chambers in five minutes,” I instructed as we left. Faramir nodded, clearly unhappy and wishing himself anywhere but here.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Beregond?” Legolas queried as soon as we were out of earshot.

“I wanted to see the look on your face!” I teased.

“Faramir is not done with this; he will resist, Estel!”

“I know that it will be difficult for him to submit to Beregond’s care, just as he will find it difficult when he must face your disciplinary attentions, Legolas, but we will guide him through that barrier together.” I explained gently.

Estel?….Are you sure Beregond is up to the task?” The hesitancy in his question tugged at my heartstrings. He was seeking reassurance that Beregond could be trusted to handle this matter with sensitivity and understanding.

“I have discussed it with him at length,” I assured him. “Beregond has a son of his own; he is used to handling discipline in a loving and supportive manner. More importantly he holds Faramir in high regard and respect, though he is not blind to his faults. He has my confidence, Legolas, so do not fret; Faramir will be in safe hands, even when he is away from our direct care.”

Faramir sidled into his chambers a few minutes later and closed the door, leaning back against the solid surface, his hands unconsciously reaching back to protect his backside. I had taken a seat on an upright chair in the centre of the room and I beckoned him over to me.

“Come Faramir; let us deal with this matter now so that it will no longer have the power to oppress you. Let us deal with your careless disregard for the orders put in place to protect you.”

This was a serious infraction and Faramir can have been in no doubt that he would be called to account for his actions. It had been a small matter of defiance, a testing of boundaries, but it was important that we established at this very early stage that all incidents of insubordination or reckless disregard for his own safety would be dealt with swiftly and fairly; that his safety and well being were of paramount importance to us. I have no doubt that he would not have tested his father in this manner, knowing what the reaction would have been but we were still charting new territory and he needed the security afforded by our firm but supportive attentions.

I kept my hand extended towards him in encouragement but I wanted him to make that endless walk of but a few steps on his own; to acknowledge that he was placing himself into my care. For many moments he stared at my hand, immobilised, frozen as though puzzled by what was required of him.

“Come, my brave Steward,” I urged softly.

“Sire,… .please!” he begged, a whispered plea that confirmed to me that I was asking too much of him. I kept my seat but with a nod to Legolas I begged his assistance.

Legolas moved slowly and calmly to Faramir stopping when he stood close enough to pull the hesitant and frightened youngster into his arms.

“Come, little Ranger, you are quite safe. Let us get this matter dealt with.”

“Legolas… I-I don’t want to b-be spanked. I cannot bear it… it is too much… pl-please can we not go back to what I am familiar with… please!” He was still being held by Legolas but his fearful gaze was on me. I could keep my place no longer; I joined them by the door and circled them both with my arms.

“Shush, Faramir. I know what it is you fear and why you shy away from the thought of my attentions. A spanking is so much more personal, so much more intimate, isn’t it? There is no possibility of distancing yourself from what is happening, no possibility of locking away your feelings and your fears. I can see you, feel your reactions, demand that you stay focussed on what is happening to you! And that is the very reason why it is so important! I will NEVER beat you or thrash you, Faramir, nor will I allow anyone else to treat you in that manner. The only thing I will ever strike you with will be the flat of my hand. When you err, when you need to be held to account for your actions, you will go over my knee and be spanked; you will be spanked in the knowledge that you are loved and cherished and that those who care for you will not leave you to suffer the burden of guilt or grief.” I explained. “Do you understand, Faramir?”

“Yes, Sire, I understand… but I still don’t want to be spanked,” he muttered, though he did manage a small grin.

“Faramir, take it from someone who has been in your position more times than you can count, no one in their right mind ‘wants’ to be spanked but sometimes you just have to bow to the inevitable,” Legolas chided, his voice full of compassion and understanding, as he lead Faramir to where I had re-seated myself.

The fact that Faramir had dressed for his meeting with Beregond meant that we now had to deal with the extra layers of clothing. He stood motionless as I untucked the tails of his tunic and blushed hotly as I indicated that he should release the ties of his britches.

“Sire… pl-please!” he whispered, squirming with mortification. I could see that this issue of disrobing was difficult for him and I had no wish to embarrass him further.

“Just loosen them, Faramir. I will deal with them when you are in place,” I reassured him, guiding him down and helping him to adjust to his position until he was settled. “Don’t fret, Faramir, we have been here before and you survived the experience… all will be well.”

Using a chair rather than a sofa or the bed from which to administer this spanking put Faramir at a disadvantage, but I felt there should be a notion of consequences for the fact that he had got dressed and had left his chambers against orders. Although he would be safely and securely held he would undoubtedly feel more insecure. His height and length of limb would ensure that he could ground himself with both his hands and feet to the floor, although he chose to curl one arm around my knee and grasp the stretcher bar of the chair.

I flicked up the tails of his tunic and took a firm grasp around his waist, pulling him tightly against my body, to anchor him to me physically and emotionally. By hooking my fingers into the loosened waistband of his britches and lifting his hips I bared his bottom, acutely conscious of his shudder at being exposed, every muscle in his body tensing in anticipation of the coming chastisement. I took a moment to examine the exposed buttocks, the skin was pale and unmarked from his previous spanking, though I have no doubt that it would take only a few swats to reignite the fire.

“Are you ready, Faramir?” I asked, resting my hand on his bottom in preparation for the first swat.

“Yes, Sire.”

There would be no easing him into this spanking as I had done the first time he went over my lap. My first swat was sincere in intent and application; he arched up and yelped, shocked at the immediate fire that shot through his system.

“Easy, Faramir,” I soothed, setting up a steady and purposeful rhythm. I have been told I am a methodical spanker but I like to ensure that I bless all areas of the bottom under my hand with equal attention. It did not take long to warm the skin from white, to pink, to a healthy red glow.

I kept my pace steady, neither speeding nor slowing; a reassuring constant. Faramir had not uttered a sound since my first swat, no doubt convinced that he could retain his composure in the face of this spanking, I was about to disabuse him of that notion!

“Tell me, Faramir. Why are you being spanked?” I asked.


There is something impressive and majestic about watching Estel in action and it has nothing to do with his newly crowned status; he exudes an air of awesome but controlled power.

I could not help but wince in sympathy for Faramir; this was certainly no token spanking. From the first swat Estel established a sincere and insistent rhythm, a regular pattern of six swats to cover each area in turn, quickly painting a colourful rosy glow over the exposed skin.

After an initial yelp at the first swat, Faramir maintained a determined silence, though I could see that he was unable to still his desperate, unconscious wriggling to try to evade the unrelenting attentions of Estel’s hand.

His silence worried me and a glance at Estel confirmed that he shared my concern and I knew that he would not allow it to continue. I knelt at the side of Estel’s chair where I could reach out to support Faramir. His face was hidden behind a curtain of hair and in order to see him better I tucked the wayward locks behind his ear and turned his face towards me, persisting when he tried to resist the pressure of my palm. His cheeks were wet and at my touch he let out his first low sob.

As Estel continued his ministrations I lifted Faramir’s shoulders until he could rest his head on my shoulder and I shared a smile with Estel as Faramir released his desperate grip on the chair and his arms snaked around me, his hands grasping handfuls of my tunic.

“Easy, Faramir!” I whispered. “Do not hide your pain from us; we both know that a spanking hurts. It is alright to release your tears.” I continued to whisper a constant stream of reassurance, only going silent when Estel started to speak.

“Tell me, Faramir, why are you being spanked?” Estel’s question was punctuated with the steady regular fall of his hand.

He received no answer but Estel is endlessly calm, endlessly patient and he simply asked again.

“Tell me my brave and mutinous Steward, why are you being spanked?”

Faramir arched up, gasping a breath before answering. “Because I-I disobeyed… orders, Sire!”

“Yes you did. You disobeyed my orders! Can I allow you to disobey me, Faramir? Are you allowed to disobey orders put in place to protect you?”

“Noooo… No, not al-allowed!”

“And what happens to insubordinate Ranger’s who flout my orders?”

“Pun-punished, Sire!”

“Very good, Faramir. Yes, they are punished. Tell us, Faramir, how will my wayward Steward be punished for such ill-advised and reckless insubordination?” Estel questioned.

Faramir was sobbing against my shoulder, his legs kicking with each swat of Estel’s hand. I knew that he was nearly done, that he had taken Faramir as far as he wished to push him.

“Answer me, Faramir. How will you be punished?” Estel insisted.

“Sp… sp..spanked, Sire! I will be spanked!” He collapsed against me, all resistance spent.

“Yes, Faramir, good, very good. All done now, all finished,” Estel crooned tenderly. “You have apologised for your ill-considered action and have accepted the consequences. All is now forgiven, my friend,” Estel soothed, his hands now petting and massaging up and down Faramir’s spine as he continued to sob.

As Faramir calmed I was surprised that Estel did not scoop him up into his arms to comfort him, instead leaving him in place over his lap, still supported against my shoulder. Estel clearly still has issues to discuss and he wanted Faramir stretched out over him as he did it. He did however pull Faramir’s tunic down to cover his exposed and lividly red bottom.

“Faramir,” he asked, “do you know why it is so important to me that we handle matters of discipline in this manner?”

“Because it is your duty, Sire!” he answered, his voice rough and strained.

“Oh, Faramir! We still have such a long way to go, don’t we?” Estel sighed with fond exasperation, patting the scorched buttocks and making Faramir arch up at the touch.

“I think that was the wrong answer, little Ranger!” I whispered.

“Faramir, do you remember me telling you about Boromir’s last few minutes, after I found him following the battle?” Estel queried

“Yes-s, Sire.”

“Do you remember his words to me; do you remember me telling you what he said to me?”

“Yes, Sire. He recognised you his King, his Captain, called you his… .his brother!” This outburst brought forth another fall of tears from the youngster.

“Yes, Faramir he claimed me as his brother and that meant more to me than I can describe. Boromir redeemed his honour in defending two helpless Halflings and with his last breath he claimed for me a place within his family,” Estel explained. Faramir had stilled, his attention captivated by the tale that Estel was painting.

“You see, Faramir, he did more than claim me, he entrusted me with the care of someone he held precious above all others. You were never just a duty to me, Faramir; even before I met you, before I came to honour and respect you for the brave and gentle soul that you are, before all that I loved you as the brother of my brother Boromir. You are stuck with me, Faramir; all my life I have been nurtured and supported by an extensive and disparate surrogate family; you are now an honoured member of that family and I could no sooner abandon or reject my responsibility to you than I could to Legolas or the twins or Lord Elrond or any of the noble individuals I hold dear.”

Estel dashed a hand across his face and lowered his legs, lifting Faramir to his feet as he stood and pulled the still sobbing ranger into his embrace. They stood locked together until Faramir had calmed.

“One day soon, Faramir, when you are ready, when it feels right, you will be talking to me and without you even realising it, you will call me by my name! not Sire, not my Lord, not your Majesty… just my name… and on that day I will know that you truly see me as a friend… as a brother!”

I couldn’t help but smile at the picture they presented, my two noble Rangers locked together in an embrace; Faramir, modesty covered by the tails of his tunic, his breeches pooled against the tops of his boots and Estel, his face damp and his shoulder soaked by the tears of Faramir’s distress. Ay, we had made progress here today and it was but a start.

Now I would continue the lesson.

Chapter 12>

Faramir didn’t respond, at least not in words, though he clutched on to me as though his whole future depended on maintaining the contact. He wept against my shoulder and I sent up a prayer of thanks that I had the honour of standing here in Boromir’s stead, able to give him the comfort of a brother’s arms and attention.

If I had a smile on my face it was matched only by the smile that illuminated my Elf’s fair features, he positively glowed, relief finally erasing the remaining shadow of concern. But I saw something else in his eyes, a flash of the wisdom that had helped me through numerous difficult and painful lessons on my road to maturity; a determination to give of his utmost to see Faramir safely on the road to a happy and contented future, no longer burdened by the grief’s and pain that have blighted his past.

“How fares my Steward?” I asked, pushing Faramir to arms length to better see his face. He met my gaze, not boldly but with a greater degree of confidence than he had hitherto presented.

“I’m not sure, Sire,” he whispered, his voice rough and strained. “Sore. Tired. A mess! I suspect I present a sorry sight, Sire… I am glad there is no council meeting today… I fear my reputation would sink without a trace, Sire.”

“Those who know and value you will always see through the superficial to the truth beneath, Faramir,” I assured him. “But I have to agree that sitting on a hard chair for the duration of a council meeting could indeed prove a challenge at the moment. Perhaps I should have Arwen embroider you a nice padded cushion to grace your chair.” I teased, smiling at the blush that flooded his pale features.

“Sire!” he choked in mortification.

“Just teasing, Faramir. Arwen did suggest cushioned seats for all the councillors but I fear that too much comfort might just encourage the meetings to drag on, a prospect I endeavour to avoid at all costs.”

Mention of his tender bottom alerted him to the fact that his breeches were still at half-mast; he reached to retrieve them but Legolas stayed his hand.

“Perhaps now is a good time to dispense with your boots and britches, little Ranger, and get you back into your nightwear where you belong,” Legolas commented, removing said items without giving Faramir the time or opportunity to object. He stood in puzzled bewilderment as Legolas retrieved a nightshirt and pointed Faramir in the direction of the bathing chamber.

When he returned a few minutes later, his face washed and his hair damp and combed he did indeed appear more composed and presentable.

“Do you intend to tuck me up in bed again?” he asked, somewhat facetiously, “or can I be trusted to find my own way!” Legolas flashed me a knowing grim before turning his attention back to my cheeky and unsuspecting Steward.

“Oh, believe me, little Ranger, I will indeed be tucking you in… .when I have finished with you,” he promised with a predatory expression. Faramir’s cocky grin faded to a look of wary concern.

“What exactly do you mean by that?” he asked, backing away a step. Legolas crooked a finger and beckoned him forward.

“ ‘We’ still have things to discuss, little Ranger,” he said quietly but with a look of steadfast intent. Faramir glanced at me, a look of horror and disbelief on his face.

“Best do as Legolas says, Faramir,” I warned him. “You do not want to test his patience; believe me when I say that there is no gainsaying my Elven warrior when he is on a mission… .and right now he has you in his sights.”

“No… NO, I will not submit to this. You ask too much. You do not intend to ‘discuss’ anything, do you?” he fumed, moving backwards until he could retreat no further. Legolas moved forward, his demeanour purposeful but non-threatening.

“There will indeed be discussion and your behaviour merely demonstrates that there are matters that still require clarification between us, little Ranger.” Legolas confirmed.

With further retreat impossible Faramir cowered against the wall, his arms hugged defensively across his front. Legolas stopped an arm’s length in front of him.

“Come my brave Ranger, we can do this. You know that you are safe with me and that I will not harm you.” Legolas soothed

“No, you will not. You will not do this. I will not allow it… I will not submit! Sire,” he demanded, “make him stand down. Tell him he can’t do this.”

“Faramir, in matters pertaining to your care and wellbeing Legolas has my ‘full’ authority. You will follow his instructions as if they came directly from me.” I said firmly.

“Come, little Ranger. At once, Faramir,” Legolas ordered, placing an arm on the shoulder of the hunched and defiant figure.

“NO!” Faramir exploded into action, pushing Legolas away and seeking to escape to his chamber. He almost made it to the door before I had time to react.

“Faramir, HOLD!” I ordered.

As ever the voice of command cut through the fog of his defiance and he froze. We moved towards him, each placing an arm across his rigid shoulders. “Enough, my Steward. You will do what you know to be right,” I chided him as we led him towards the padded settle near the fireplace. He embraced his anger and outrage at this unwelcome turn of events, trying to find that position of silent detachment he had utilised in the past; I fear that facility is lost to him now that we have broken through some of the barriers he used to hide behind.

I stepped away as Legolas took a seat and gently pulled Faramir into position over his lap.

“Please don’t do this, Legolas. Please… I thought you were my friend… Why are you doing this?” Faramir pleaded. Legolas calmly ignored the entreaties even as he adjusted Faramir’s position. Faramir sought to distance himself from the proceedings by hiding his face in his folded arms.

This was a pivotal moment in the development of the relationship between Faramir and Legolas and I felt that I was perhaps, at this point, superfluous.

“Faramir, do you wish me to stay here with you?” I asked. I received no response, not even a shake of his head.

“Legolas,” I asked, “would you like me to stay?”

“Nay, my Lord, it is not necessary,” he said with a smile of reassurance. “Faramir and I have much to discuss and I would not keep you from your other responsibilities. We will be fine. Be assured I will send for you if you are required.” His words were formal but I could see the soft, tender gleam in his eye; he was confident and in control, sure of his purpose and his ability to see this through, no matter how long the process should take. I bent over until our foreheads touched, showing him that he had my confidence, as I had his.

“Very well, I will leave you. Faramir, do not resist this.” I urged, running a hand over his head in blessing. “Trust Legolas, as I do, he will see you through this.”


Estel left, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving the two of us alone, the silence broken only by Faramir’s ragged breathing and the soft hiss and crackle of the fire. Faramir was still and rigid over my lap, his legs out straight, supported along the length of the settle and his chest supported on a cushion to my left. I could not see his face; he had folded his arms in front of him and had buried his face between them.

“Faramir,” I said, “I know this is difficult for you but know that I am here for you, I will not leave you, you are quite safe… “

“Just get on with it… do what you will,” he hissed. I was reassured by his outburst; it confirmed that though he was trying to distance himself from this he had not locked in on himself; unable to access that isolating silence, deep inside, where he used to hide.

I expected a reaction to my first spank, after all he had already endured Estel’s expert attentions and his buttocks and thighs were still red and acutely tender. I grasped him tightly and gave him a warning but I was unprepared for the severity of his reaction. He arched violently and howled and but for my grip on his waist he would have fallen to the floor. He fought and struggled to escape, wrenching and kicking in an attempt to evade the next fall of my hand. It took me but a moment to contain his flailing limbs and subdue him; I secured his legs by hooking my right leg over his and I leant over him, using my body to prevent his struggles.

“Settle down, little Ranger. Settle down.” I crooned, stroking the back of his head and his neck. “I know you don’t want this but that decision has been taken out of your hands… cease your useless struggles, we have only just begun and we have a long way to go!” He did not heed me, he continued to struggle and resist.

“Release me, Legolas!” he demanded. “You will not do this… I demand that you Let Me GO!”

“Tut-tut, little Ranger, such rebellion will get you no where. I am making the decisions here and you will remain over my knee, being spanked, until I am satisfied that we have dealt with all of the matters that still need attending to,” I informed him calmly.

I held him, locked down over my lap, until he finally stopped struggling, until he had no fight left and surrendered himself to my care. He made one final attempt to persuade me to desist and his broken plea was nearly my undoing.

“Please, Legolas. Please don’t sp-spank me any more… .so, so so-sore… please!” I had to harden my heart and remember just what I was attempting to achieve here. He needed to accept me in this role, just as he would have to accept Beregond’s care. I wondered if we had perhaps made an error in not involving Beregond in today’s lessons but regrets were useless, he needed my full attention here and now.

“I know, Faramir,” I soothed, rubbing my hand lightly over his tender, fiery bottom, “but I also know that without my attentions we will not get to the heart of those matters that still oppress you and hurt you deep inside. You have survived far worse than a spanking many times before, trust that I know what you can endure.”

When I recommenced the spanking I reduced the force and the frequency of the spanks in consideration of his already painful state. He had so little room to manoeuvre that he had no ability to evade each carefully placed blow. I didn’t try to converse or discuss anything with him, I wanted him to concentrate on what was happening to him, but neither did I want to leave him in silence; that was what Denethor had done to him and I did not want him to feel alone or abandoned in his punishment; I murmured and soothed him with my voice, Elvish endearments and words of comfort even as he wept into his cupped hands.

“Now, my brave little Ranger, we have much to discuss,” I said when he finally ceased struggling and kicking and surrendered to lie limply over my knee. I didn’t stop spanking completely just an occasional blow between caresses over his scorched bottom.

“Why are you being spanked, Faramir?”

“Dis-dis-bayed orders,” he gasped.

“No, Faramir. Estel dealt with that matter; Estel dealt with your insubordination. I am not punishing you again for the same offence.”

“Then why… .I-I don’t understand… have I been bad!”

“No, Little One, not bad. You are here, in part, because of Beregond,” I explained gently. “You are here because it is important that you realise that you can and will be called to account for your actions and whether it is by Estel or me or Beregond or Gimli or even Arwen, if you are called to account you will accept what is due… .”

“Arwen. No Oh, no… she wouldn’t!” he interrupted.

“Faramir believe me when I tell you that Arwen takes her responsibilities as surrogate sister very seriously. You underestimate her at your peril; she has a hand every bit as hard as Lord Elrond’s and she is not averse to quelling reckless or irresponsible behaviour in a corporal manner,” I assured him.

“That sounds like the voice of personal experience,” he exclaimed.

“Never mind that, it is you we are discussing at the moment,” I said, getting the conversation back on track and focussing his attention with a sharper spank.

“You questioned both Beregond’s and my authority to discipline you. That will not happen again, Faramir; our authority comes from the King and is rooted in our mutual concern for you well-being and welfare and that authority will stay in place until Estel withdraws it.” I reinforced the importance of the message with a flurry of sincere spanks. “Is that clear, Faramir!”

“Yes… clear… very clear, Legolas… please stop. I’ll be good. I-I promise I’ll be good,” he wailed. I went back to rubbing his tender bottom adding just the occasional spank as he wept.

“Very good, Faramir. You’re doing so well, my brave little Ranger but now we come to a more difficult task and I need you to be good and brave a little longer.”

“What-what task Legolas?” he asked fearfully, rubbing his tear-soaked face on his sleeve and looking back at me over his shoulder.

“I want you to tell me about Osgiliath,” I demanded, gently but firmly. “I want you to tell me about your Rangers.”

My words reverberated into a silence punctuated only by the resumption of my hand spanking firmly and with increased intent on his already painful bottom. Such was his reluctance to engage with this subject that for several minutes he remained stubbornly silent, even through the increasing fire in his backside. The effort to remain silent was costing him dearly, his breaths exploding through gritted teeth; he was struggling against my hold, struggling to retain a modicum of control. I would not allow it.

I did not repeat my command, I let my actions speak for me; I gripped him tighter against me and landed half a dozen hard, fast spanks at the tender area at the very top of each thigh. He arched against my grip and his right hand shot back.

“Remove your hand, Faramir or I will continue my current attentions.” His hand remained in place as he howled and cursed. “Such behaviour is unseemly, Lord Faramir,” I chastised, as I took hold of his wrist and secured it against his hip with my supporting hand; I administered another six hard swats to his thighs.

“Now… you will tell me now, Faramir!” I demanded. He had exhausted his rapidly diminishing reserve of resistance.

Please, stop… ..oh… .please, please stop… .I’ll tell you… I-I will… just please stop!”

“Very well, little Ranger… tell me your tale.” I slowed and lightened my spanks, interspersing the blows with soothing caresses.

“So awful, Legolas… so-so awful!” he wept.

“I know, little Ranger, so hard to think of and remember such a horrible scene and you are being so brave. Think back and tell me of the battle.”

“We-we were called as reinforcements, Osgiliath was under threat and we could do no more in Ithilien. We tried, tried so hard and they just kept coming…more and more of them. It wasn’t a battle it was a slaughter. Broken bodies and severed limbs everywhere. So much noise, so much blood, screaming, crying, calls for help… .and we could do nothing. It was hopeless We had to retreat, the city had fallen to the enemy… we had to retreat and leave the wounded to their fate… we rode away with their cries for help ringing in our ears… we didn’t even have time to end their suffering humanely… we just rode away, leaving them to the blood-lust of the enemy. We betrayed them… we betrayed them,” he sobbed.

“No, Faramir, it was not a betrayal or a failure, it was a war. And wars are cruel and vicious. But you were not to blame, Faramir, not for the deaths or the losses. You played your part bravely and honourably, you guarded and protected your men to the best of your ability. All admit that you are an outstanding Commander; your men loved and revered you, Faramir but you are only one man, you are not infallible, you could not save them all, you were overwhelmed by a fearsome enemy.”

“Should have tried harder… should have done more. Bor-Boromir would have held out… I was weak… always a disappointment… “

“NO, Faramir!” I challenged, bringing my hand down firmly as I resumed spanking him. “Those are your Father’s sentiments but they are not true, not then and not now. Even with double the numbers you could not have held back that evil tide. Your Father was a troubled and broken man, overcome by the enemy through his use of the accursed stone. I know what he said to you, Faramir; I know how he sent you on a doomed mission with only his spite and his cruel malice to see you on your way… .”

“I was a coward… I wanted to die… nothing left to live for. Boromir gone and my Father wishing me dead in his place… I wanted only peace, oblivion… no more pain or fear or hurt… I wanted to die, Legolas… I wanted to die… .and-and when I was hit, when I fell from my mount, I wasn’t scared, I was relieved… going to be reunited with Boromir. I just gave up, stopped fighting… I let the darkness take me.” He wept, sobbed as if his heart were breaking.

“Do not be so hard on yourself, Little One, you were exhausted and injured, you had suffered great losses and had fought under the fell influence of the Nazgûl, it is no wonder that you despaired. It is a wonder to me that you held out under the strain for so long.”

I gathered him up into my arms until he was curled around me, his head against my shoulder and his legs tucked behind me, his weight resting on his hip to spare his blistered bottom. I let him cry out his distress, he was too distraught at that point to heed my words, overwhelmed by the strength of the emotions that his memories had brought forth. There were still matters that I wanted to cover but I needed him to be calm to hear me. I was in no hurry, we would take this at his pace; I had pushed him hard but it was a measure of his strength, of his fortitude, that he had endured my attentions as he had.

As he calmed he tried to pull away from my embrace and I saw in his eyes that he was embarrassed at finding himself, yet again, in this vulnerable and needy position.

“Be still, little Ranger, do not fret, I would not have you leave my arms just yet, it comforts me to hold you close,” I assured him

“Forgive me! It is unseemly, all I seem to do is weep and display my weakness!” he whispered. “Until recently it was not my habit to cry! I never used to cry and now I cannot seem to go a single day without breaking down… I feel so childish.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Faramir, nor is there anything childish or weak in releasing your grief in tears. The harm comes in suppressing your emotions. I do not judge you or think you weak, I am proud of your strength and fortitude… it has helped you survive a life that would have crushed a lesser man.”

“Faramir, you have spoken of your grief and of your despair and that is good, for those hurts have less power to oppress you when they are viewed and acknowledged. You can only begin to heal when you face up to them but there is something else you need to do, Faramir.”

“What… what must I do, Legolas?”

“You must throw off your guilt, Faramir. You must forgive yourself for surviving.” I hugged him tightly against me and whispered my words against his ear. “You survived for a purpose, you have much still to accomplish. You must embrace the future, Faramir… live every day to the full… rejoice in all the new possibilities that are opening up for you… A wife, a home in you blessed forests of Ithilien, children to bring you joy… you have earned the right to peace and happiness and you owe it to the memory of all those who have gone to make the most of the blessing that their sacrifice has bought. That is what you fought for, Faramir! that is what they gave their lives for, do not squander their blessings.”

He wept, no longer the desperate haunting tears of old but healing tears as he finally accepted my words, finally accepted he had a future.

“Legolas. Thank you!” he whispered.

“What are you thanking me for Faramir?” I teased. “Are you thanking me for blistering you bottom?”

He sniffed and smiled up at me. “No… no-yes… I don’t know… I just… I needed… I’m trying to understand… it’s just… “

“I know, Little Ranger… I know. You don’t need to understand just now. Just accept that things have changed and that you are not alone. You will never be alone, Faramir, never again. We will be here whenever and wherever you need us… you have only to reach out. We will not allow anyone to hurt you… not even yourself… .and if it means I have to blister your deserving backside everyday day for the rest of your life, I will do so. Do you understand, Faramir?”

“Yes, Legolas,” he whispered sheepishly, burying his face from my sight.

We stayed, plastered together, until the room grew dark with the approaching dusk. He dozed in my arms and I was quite happy to be his pillow. I knew that I would likely never have this opportunity again; never again would he be so open and so vulnerable. We had made great strides; we had released the great stifling dam of grief that had paralysed him. He had accepted care from both Estel and myself and had accepted that should it be necessary he would accept Beregond’s attentions. We had not undone a lifetime’s oppression in just a few days and I had no doubt that he would challenge his boundaries many times in the future. I would be content to give him whatever attention he required and I would revel in watching him grow into his future.

A quiet knock on the door heralded the arrival of Lord Elrond who came in carrying a tray of supper.

“Forgive the intrusion but Estel asked me to come and check that his Steward had survived your ‘relentless’ attentions, Legolas!” he teased, with a gentle smile. Faramir stirred but remained motionless in my arms.

“Relentless! I thought I was quite restrained, given the circumstances!” I pouted, giving Faramir a wink to show I was joking.

“He was cruel… very – very cruel! Sir… .I may never sit again!”

Lord Elrond laughed. “Estel thought you might benefit from the application of my cooling lotion, Faramir.”

“That would be most welcome, Sir… my backside is on fire!” Faramir pouted.

“I suppose that means I must let you up, little Ranger! Can you stand?” I asked him.

We helped him to his feet and guided him to the bathing chamber, leaving him to his privacy as he made himself comfortable and washed the tear-tracks from his face. We arranged the pillows on his bed so that he could rest on his front, his chest supported on pillows and his arms free to eat his supper from a prone position.

We sat with him and chatted while he ate his supper and then Lord Elrond administered his special lotion, raising his eyebrow at the state of Faramir’s bottom.

“Faramir, may I suggest that you remain in bed tomorrow and allow yourself time to recover,” the learned healer advised, “and please exercise caution, you do not want to be attracting any more disciplinary attention for a while!”

“Yes, my Lord. Thank you for your advice… believe me, I do not intend to end up in that position ever again.” I couldn’t help but laugh, especially when Faramir glared at me. “Never again, Legolas… I will never need that kind of attention ever again!” He assured me with absolute confidence.

“HA. Faramir, at the rate you are going, I will give you a week!” I said, patting his bottom and making him squeak.


EPILOGUE

I find it unbelievable to comprehend the way my life has changed.

I fear that this is just another dream; not a true nightmare the likes of which I am so accustomed to, but a dream that, should I wake and find myself back in the old reality, would be horrific in its loss. To go back to the old way, to go back to the way I was sure I was destined to endure would be, quite simply, unbearable.

How have I come to this point?

How have I earned the right to enjoy the unlooked for but oh so welcome comfort of freely offered friendship? How has my life been turned about so completely that I no longer recognize the man that I was?

I see now that I was nearly beaten down by my fate. I was so close to giving in to the despair and the grief; the darkness was then so welcoming, so easy to embrace. I was so close, so very close.

And yet I was rescued; rescued from a darkness of my own choosing by my two faithful, fearless warriors; gathered up by tender loving arms, pushed to my limit in order to expose and release the depth of my hurt, sharing my anguish and loving it away with their boundless compassion and unfailing support.

Oh, my blessed, blessed warriors.

Never have I shed so many tears. Never did I know that I had so many tears in me or that I was allowed to release them. To be shown that what I had seen as weakness was not weakness at all but a necessary release. How many other truths that had underpinned my understanding would prove to be false?

In one matter they proved to me most convincingly that I was worthy of their attention, that I was deserving of love and approbation, that I was allowed to err, that my errors would be noticed, acknowledged and that I would be held to account in a loving and supportive manner.

But the manner of their attention! Oh, I blush even now to remember the horror and mortification that gripped me when they had proposed their own brand of accounting. To find myself exposed, physically and emotionally, held tight by their unfathomable strength; a child’s punishment and yet not! I had kicked, squealed, begged, sobbed and finally surrendered to the insistence of their attentions, unable to believe that a hand could inflict such fire, that I could feel safe in the midst of such an ordeal… it made no sense. They had broken me down, taken me to a point that the worst of my father’s punishments had never achieved and they had done it with and for love. They had seen my need and they had answered it.

They have given me so much. They have given me a belief in the future; a future that I thought I would never see, a future for myself and for Gondor, a belief that all of my tomorrows should be cherished for the possibilities they presented. And not only have they given me a future but they have given me back my past, my memories. The pain and distress of releasing the stranglehold of grief that had blocked my memories of my brother was a small price to pay for the relief of being able to once again capture his essence.

Aye, they have given me much. They have given me hope.

I stand now on the brink of that unanticipated future. Tomorrow we begin the long sad journey to escort the body of King Théoden back to his final resting place. From my place at the balustrade I can hear the festivities as our company celebrates our last evening together here in the city. I can hear the strains of a Lord Elrond’s harp and the lyrical voices of the hobbits as they share songs of the Shire.

Far below on the night-darkened plain I can see the campfires of the Rohirrim; the night breeze wafts the sounds and the smells up to the highest level of the Citadel. Further away I can see the lights and fires of the first few homesteads nestling against the foothills of the mountains, another sign of renewal.

I have spoken to Éomer and made my formal application to petition for the hand of Éowyn in marriage, my petition seconded by the King himself. When the matter was first broached between us I thought King Elessar was going to object to the union. He asked me if it was truly my wish to be married to Éowyn and I made the mistake of saying that I would do as he commanded! He said he had no intention of commanding me in such a personal matter and that if that was my only reason for agreeing to the union then he would forbid any further discussion of the matter. It took me a lot of persuading to finally convince him that it was truly what I wished. Only when the matter was settled did I realise that he had been toying with me… .I wonder if I will ever understand his sense of humour!

My quiet reverie is broken by the sound of soft footfalls behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know that I am being observed.

“Well, My Steward, are you tired of the celebrations so soon?”

“No, Sire, I was just getting a breath of air. It will be a while before I look on this view again. I was just setting it firmly in my memory before our departure tomorrow.”

“And what held your attention so avidly, you have been lost in thought for a while?”

“Nothing important, Estel, just quiet contemplation. Just remembering”

“Say that again!” The demand takes me by surprise and I turn to look at him, surprised to see the odd expression on his face.

“Say it again, Faramir!” he demanded again.

“I said ‘I was just remembering,’ Estel! Why? What have I done… have I said something wrong?” I was confused, bewildered by his reaction.

My answer was to be suddenly enveloped in a fierce embrace.

“I told you this day would come!” he whispered, brokenly. “You did it, Little Brother! You called me by my name! You called me by my name!”

“I did, didn’t I!” I gasped, struggling to get the words out from the tightness of the embrace.

“Is this a private celebration or may anyone join in?” Legolas was standing close; neither of us had heard his approach. “Have you upset our King, Little Ranger!” he asked with a gentle grin, wiping his thumb tenderly across Estel’s cheek

“No, Legolas, he has made me very happy.”

“Then I suggest you release him before you crush the life out of him!” Legolas exclaimed, catching me when the Estel released his vice-like hold. “Come this calls for a celebration.”

We walked back into the party together.

Brothers-in-arms.

Brothers of the Heart.

Continue to the sequel “Paying the Piper

NB: Please do not distribute (by any means, including email) or repost this story (including translations) without the author's prior permission. [ more ]

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4 Comment(s)

Wwhat can I say. This story has help me realise that I can no longer hide my fears and nigtmares. Beautifully written, the story made me cry. I haven’t cried in almost fifteen years, it was such a relive, thank you so much

— Ingrid    Monday 25 May 2009, 22:28    #

Hi Shireling,

I realized that I’d never left you feedback on this story, so I wanted to drop you a line to let you know how much I like it! I loved the initial confrontations between Faramir and Aragorn here, and the loving discipline in the denouement as well as the part with Beregrond were just terrific.

— Susana    Friday 15 June 2012, 18:04    #

Thank you! This is absolutely the best Faramir discipline fanfic. There are so many out there, but none have even come close to yours (and, need we say, many are far better not read). Thank you for all the brotherly love and concern you have portrayed in the characters, and the sense of correct punishment vs abuse. Lastly, thank you so, so much for finishing it! So many authors lose interest and leave unfinished tales!
Bravo!

— Treedweller    Friday 25 January 2019, 22:12    #

it’s so cute i love it

— comrade hannah    Thursday 25 July 2019, 22:18    #

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