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Shattered illusions (R) Print

Written by Finduilas Minyatur

06 June 2013 | 8607 words | Work in Progress

Title: Shattered illusions
Author: Finduilas Minyatur
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Faramir
Warnings: Domestic violence, child abuse
NB: English is not my primary language and that the grammar and spelling mistakes,witch I know there must be quite a lot,are all mine.

How many times he repeated what had happened in his head he could not make it undone. He had hurt his wife, the one he swore to protect with all his power. He had lifted his hand and struck her fully aware of what he was doing.
Is Faramir really as loving and caring as so many seems to think? What if years of always comming second and never feeling anything else but ‘sufficient’ have become to much for him to handle?
Added: Chapter IV


I

The man sat on the damp and cold stone floor. His back against the wall and slumped shoulders. The old hay, which was laden out to provide at least some sort of warmth, smelled of mold and of something familiar to rotten apples. A few drops of brownish blood decorated his once white tunic and his knuckles were slightly scratched. The dark hair hung in sad, unwashed strands past his cheekbones, slightly angular chin and covered most of his face. The grey eyes that usually had a certain spark seemed dead and dull like a curtain had been pulled down over them.

“The King is ready for you now.” A guard stood on the other side of the bars. The guard’s eyes held nothing but pure loathing against the man he once had looked up to. Trusted and even, on some level, loved. All of that was gone. For how could anyone feel anything but disgust for a man who would do such a ghastly thing as to hit his wife?!

Faramir rose from the floor. His whole body ached from sitting in this cold and small cell the entire night. He approached the bars but was met by a violent sound as the guard slammed his sword against the iron. Though the impact was loud and certainly would have caused at least a flinch out of anybody, Faramir didn’t. He didn’t even seem to notice it.

“You villain, I will take great joy in watching your head being separated from your body. Men like you disgust me. The only sad part is that I won’t be able to do it myself.” The guard spat at his former captain before he turned and walked away. Leaving Faramir to wait for the King to come and listen to his side of the story. So that Elessar could deal with this matter as justly as possible. But what other punishment besides death could he expect? The crime he had committed was too severe to be dealt with in any other way.

He felt empty. Like he was nothing more than a shell of the man he once had been. There was nothing he could do but accept his punishment. Whatever it would be it would be justified. How many times he repeated what had happened in his head he could not make it undone. He had hurt his wife, the one he had swore to protect with all his power. He had lifted his hand and struck her fully aware of what he was doing.

He heard the door open and clasped his hands behind his back. He tried to stand up straight but the pain that flared from his ribs and the lower of his back up to his neck made it very difficult. It was dark in the dungeons with just a torch here and there. But it was light enough for Faramir to see the face of his king. Aragorn’s face was hard as stone and as unmoving as the stone statues of the high kings in the great hall.

“My Lord,” Faramir bowed his head in respect. Aragorn unlocked the door and opened it for his Steward.

“Faramir.” The man’s voice was tired and broken. It was filled with hurt, disappointment and grief. Without saying anything else he walked towards the small chambers that had, in the early days, been used to make people tell the truth with a bit more drastic methods. That however was a long time ago and now the room held nothing more than a table and two chairs. Aragorn sat down on one of them and nodded to the other.

“Sit.” The order was short and left nothing for the receiver to argue with. Not that Faramir would have. He took his place on the other side and met Aragon’s grey eyes with his own equally grey, however more dull and shadowed.

There was a small pause, where Aragorn just stared at his friend… No! Faramir was no longer a friend to him. A man who had it in his heart to raise his hand in anger towards his wife would not be a friend to the King of Gondor. But it grieved Aragorn even more that the one the deed had been done by, and been done to, was one he held close and dear to his heart.

“Help me Faramir. Help me understand how you could do something like that.” There was a pleading in the older man’s voice and it almost tore Faramir’s heart in two. He swallowed the bile that threatened to rise in his throat. There was nothing he could say that would forgive him for his actions nor ease the pain that was so visible in his King’s eyes.

“She angered me,” he said with that hollow voice that never had been linked together with the man Faramir was.

“She angered you?” Aragorn looked as though he could not believe what he was hearing. “Your wife is close to dying, from your hand, and all you can say is that she angered you?!”

Faramir nodded. Not daring to speak, scared that his voice would break and give him away.

“For how long have you done this to her? Please Faramir, the whole truth now.” To ask Faramir to tell the truth was as necessary as to ask the sun to rise each morning. But Faramir was cunning. He found loop holes in every law or rule. That could be a tremendous gift, but also very dangerous. The former steward folded his hand in his lap and turned his eyes towards the wooden surface of the table. He traced the lines that time had created in the tree before it had been turned to furniture.

“For seven years I have tormented her,” Faramir said in a low voice. “Almost our whole marriage I have plagued with my actions.”

Aragorn took a deep breath as to calm down. Never in a million years would he have picked Faramir as a person who would hit his wife. And that was not only due to how Denethor had treated him and brought him up. Aragorn had early learned of the old steward’s way of disciplining his youngest. He had seen some for himself when he would visit the White city in disguise as Thorongil. He had seen how Denethor, without as much as a tiny bit of hesitation, had slapped his youngest son hard on the cheeks on a fair number of occasions. Also, Boromir had told them. He told them about a stern man, not as cold and heartless as so many thought him to be, but more unforgiving than most fathers. Every father disciplines his sons in one way or another and in Gondor a stinging slap on the cheek or a belt brought down on a bare back was not something that would cause a debate. Frowned upon, absolutely and not used in general, but not by law forbidden.

Old Denethor had never been lenient with disobedience and young Faramir had often, more so and frequent than Boromir thought reasonable, found himself alone in their father’s study. All Boromir could do was comfort his brother and help clean and put healing ointment on the boy’s wounded back. Boromir knew firsthand the force of their father’s hand. Not as often or as unforgiving as Faramir, but enough times for it to have left a few marks still visible. And Faramir had always been there to help tend to his wounds. Of this though, he had not spoken a word. Still the Fellowship had been appalled that a father could hit his own son in any way at all.

Aragorn looked at Faramir. He searched for another answer to what had come over Faramir to do something even remotely to what he had done. Faramir had one of the gentlest spirits that he had ever seen or known. How could this be?! How could he condemn this man, his steward, his friend, to death? Faramir would never hurt another living being if not justified… But how could he, the King of Gondor, rightfully pretend that Éowyn, in this very moment, didn’t lie dying in the House of healing? How could he pretend that it had been a simple fight between the spouses? Aragorn had learned that people could betray you and often would. But it hurt more when the betrayal came from someone as close as Faramir had become.

“What about your son, Elboron? Have you ever done to him the same thing that Denethor did to you when growing up?” Every bit of kindness that may have been in Aragorn’s voice before was now gone. All he could see now was not a man but a coward! He saw someone who was weak, a monster and not worthy to be called a friend. “You have hit him? Haven’t you?”

At the mentioning of his son, Faramir’s eyes shot up.

“I have never in my life even considered hitting him. I would never harm or humiliate or belittle him. He is my son for Valar’s sake!” Faramir rose from his sitting position so violently that it sent his chair dropping backwards. It clashed with a loud noise on the floor but didn’t break. Faramir’s chest was heaving and his hands were balled into tight fists. For a couple of seconds the two men just stared at each other before finally Aragorn broke the silence.

“Then how do you explain that the boy has some rather ugly bruises on his upper arms, a slightly bruised cheek and a split lip that he refuses to tell the healers how he got?” Faramir’s shoulders slumped but he visible tightened his balled fists. He lowered his eyes and slowly shook his head.

“Fool of a boy,” he whispered silently and swallowed hard. Aragorn was about to say something but was interrupted when Faramir continued. Obviously more to himself than to his king and most likely didn’t think of the fact that said king sat in front of him and could hear everything.

“I am so sorry, my child. I am so sorry for what I have done to you. Will you ever forgive me?” On hearing this, Aragorn rose too, leaned forward and grabbed the other man by the front of his tunic.

“So you have hit him! It was you who left the marks on him? Let the Valar have mercy on your soul for I will not!” Aragorn let go of the younger man so violently that said man lost his balance and fell with a loud thud to the floor. In his rage Aragorn did not see the pained expression that crossed Faramir’s face and clearly telling that something was wrong.

“If Éowyn dies you will suffer the consequences by be hanged from your neck till you are dead. If not you will be put in exile in Fangorn forest with only the Carrion birds as your company. You will never harm your son or your wife ever again.” With that the King strode out of the chamber, yelling for one of the guards to lock the ‘monster’ up again and left Faramir on the floor. The man pressed his hand to the arch of his ribcage in a useless attempt to ease the pain from the broken ribs.

II

Aragorn strode down the halls in rage. He had just signed the judgment that was to fall on Faramir. Even though the man had committed one of the most hideous crimes there was, in his opinion, his hand still shook and his heart ached from having to condemn one so treasured to him to such a fate. The thoughts and rumbling feelings made him so oblivious to the world around him that he didn’t hear when Arwen called out to him, begging him to halter. It wasn’t until he felt her light touch on his shoulder that he even recognized her present. He turned around and looked at his beloved wife, her beautiful face, her graceful limbs, a woman’s body… Tears started to form in his eyes when he thought about someone hurting her. Arwen stood and looked into her husband’s troubled face. She lifted her hand and stroked the man lovingly and gentle on the cheek with the back of her hand. Without a warning, Aragorn pulled her into his arms and hugged her as if he was afraid that some grater power would steel her away from him. The queen felt hot tears wetting her shoulder. She kissed the man on his forehead and on his temple while she continued to caress him.

“Hush my love,” she whispered softly in his ear. “I have news from the healers. Éowyn has awakened and is going to be well again. She just needs to rest.” Hearing these words made Aragorn’s tears flow even faster and his shoulders shook as the sobs became more and more high pitched. Arwen was at loss of what to do. Wasn’t the news of Éowyn’s recovery supposed to be reveling? They had all been so worried for her. These were not tears of joy. That she was certain about. She had never seen her husband in such a state. “Tell me Estel, What ails you so much?” she asked with that soft and calming voice that always seemed to make anyone feel at ease. Aragorn lifted his head from the comfort in Arwen’s arms.

“He did it to her. He has been hurting her for so many years! And now he has started to hurt Elboron too.” Aragorn pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears. “How could we not see? How could we have been so blind?” Fresh tears started to flow and he would have sunken to the floor if it hadn’t been for Arwen. She wrapped her arms around the trembling king and held him tight. Her own eyes had begun to water and soon big tears of her own dripped down her cheeks. Éowyn, Elboron… She couldn’t stand to think that something so awful had been happening to her closest friend and her son. And for such a long time!

“Who is this beast you speak of?” she asked and tried to hold her voice as steady as possible. “Does Faramir know? No of course he doesn’t know. If he did, he would have protected her, he would have told us. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt his family and those dear to his heart.” Arwen almost stumbled over her own words. It was not common among elves to do so. They always seemed so put together, calm and composed. But all of this was too much for the queen to comprehend. She needed to know so that she could help her wounded friend and child. Hearing the name of that… that fiend made Aragorn tear away from his wife’s embrace.

“Faramir!” He spat as if the name was pure poison and like it stung as much as salt does in an open wound just to enunciate it. “Faramir would never let them get hurt you say. Faramir would have protected them you say! Faramir was the one who hurt them! He is no better than Sauron himself. He is more of a monster than the Witch king of Angmar was!”
Arwen could do nothing else but stare at Aragorn. No one, except the king, the healers and a few guards, knew fully of what had happened to Éowyn. All that the others in the palace and the lady’s friends knew was that the princess of Ithilien had been badly hurt. Until now it had all been kept a secret. Subsections and real facts are dangerous things and must be handling with care. Arwen swallowed hard, not quite sure if she had heard correctly or if she had misunderstood. There must be some mistake. Faramir would never… Before she could give words to her thoughts and ask he husband if he was certain. Was he really sure that it was the truth? A new set of them appeared. Why was it so unreasonable that Faramir could do it? He was certainly strong enough, with a soldier’s body and, from what she had learned and heard, he had been more than enough exposed to violence during most part of his life to have learned the false truth that hands and action spoke better than words.

“Dear Valar,” she whispered. “Poor Éowyn, poor Elboron… Aragorn, you have to do something! We cannot let this happen ever again.” With a trembling hand she covered her mouth. She was so upset, so angry and distraught that everything around her seemed unfamiliar and hostile. “Fell beast is a too kind word for men like him!” The words were so covered in hate that it sounded like they came from another person. She would have continued if it hadn’t been for the sudden realization that they were not alone. A little boy of six years old with hair as black as his father, grey eyes and the same nose and chin stood and watched them with a pained expression on his young face. By the look of the boy he must have heard almost everything that had been said between the married couple. Big tears rolled down his cheeks and he sobbed quietly. Arwen let go of Aragorn and hurried up to the distressed child. She knelt down before him to take him in her arms to comfort him, but the boy stepped away from her and pulled his hands towards his chest so that the queen couldn’t touch them either.

“What is it little one?” Aragorn came up to them and he too knelt down next to the child. “Why do you recoil from Arwen’s touch? You have never done so before” Elboron swallowed hard and locked his eyes to the floor. He didn’t want to look either of the adults in the eyes. He bit his lip and wiped away the tears that continued to flow. “Elboron?” Aragorn took the child’s trembling hands, completely ignoring that the boy tried to wrench them away from the man, and held them tight. “Talk to me child. Tell me what troubles you so?” Like I don’t know, the king thought bitterly to himself.

“Will mama be in trouble now?” The boy whispered with so much sadness that it almost broke the King and Queen’s hearts. Aragorn pulled the small boy into his arms and held him almost as tight as he held Arwen moments ago.

“Never again, I promise you. Never will you or your mama have to be afraid or hurt again. Never again will neither you nor your mama have the reason to cry because that someone has hurt any of you.” Aragorn kissed the boy on the top of his head and Arwen tried her best to comfort the child with soothing words and gentle hand movements.

“What about papa?” The question was so silent that the two royals had a hard time hearing it. “What will happen to him?” Aragorn released the boy and held him on arm’s length so that he could meet the boy’s face.

“He will be put someplace where he can never harm another one ever again. He will spend the rest of his future with the same dark creatures that he is” He answered rather dark and tried to pull the boy into his arms again. But this time Elboron tore himself from the man’s grip. He stared at the King with such anger that both Aragorn and Arwen were amazed that a child so small could look that way.

“Papa is not a bad man.” The boy said definitely and tightened his hands into fists, looking so much like Faramir had done as a child that no one could question who had fathered this young boy. Arwen turned her sad eyes towards Aragorn and he met hers with equally sad ones. Elboron’s words and expression spoke volumes. Faramir had trained his son well into believe that there was nothing wrong with a father hurting a mother and child. Perhaps he thought himself that it was as it should be?

“It is very bad and wrong to hurt your child and very bad and wrong to hurt your wife. Don’t you know that little one?” Arwen said in her soft and kind voice. Elboron fixed his eyes on the floor yet again. But he refused to answer. Arwen repeated her question, a bit louder and firmer than before.

“I know,” Elboron finally spoke up with a thin voice. As if he was afraid that something terrible would happen. “Papa tells me that all the time. That it’s not mine or mama’s fault. He always tells me that it was an accident and that he is the one to blame, no one else. He tells me that he is sorry and he is always promising that it will never happen again. But…” The child closed his eyes and started to tremble. He should not be saying this! He had promised that he would never speak of this or tell anyone what had been happening for so long. He had grown up hearing the screams, the sound of things breaking, the tears and the soft comforting words afterwards. It was normal to him, something that happened almost every day in one way or another. It wasn’t the fighting that he became most upset and sad with. It was the silent acceptance. That this was how it was supposed to be and no one ever questioned it anymore. All of them knew that it would never change whatever either of his parents sad. He was old enough to know the promising to be nothing more than lies. But he couldn’t help but hope that one day the words, the promising and the apologizing would mean something and that they would be true, just for once. Even though he was still a child, a small one too, he knew that both mama and papa knew this as well. But they always seemed to pretend that they didn’t.

“But it always does,” Aragorn continued what it was obviously that the boy couldn’t. Elboron nodded quietly in response. The lump that grew day by day, somewhere deep inside his stomach and heart was slowly starting to travel up into his throat. He felt sick, like he was about to throw up. He was afraid that it would come out that he had spoken, that he had told. This was family matters, Mama and papa had said so. They had told him that no one needed to know, that it was alright. It was just this one time and it wasn’t even really that bad. For his parents sake he had stayed silent. But he had never been as afraid as he had been this time. Maybe because this was the first time this had happened to him. Never before had he gotten hurt. But he knew that it was his own fault. If he hadn’t tried to stop it, if he hadn’t come in between it would have never happened and things wouldn’t be as bad as they were now. He was to blame.

“What will happen to mama?” he asked and looked up in Aragorn’s face. It was a face that held an air of safety and security. The man’s face said that you never had to be afraid when you were near him. Aragorn lifted the boy up in his arms and stood up, followed by Arwen.

“Your mama and you will live here in the palace with me and Arwen.” He said with a smile. Elboron licked his lower lip, just over the cut. It stung a bit but nothing too bad.

“Do you think mama will stop screaming and crying if we live here?” The boy asked and rested his head against Aragon’s broad chest. “I don’t like it when she does that. It scares me.” Elboron suddenly felt extremely tired and closed his eyes, feeling completely safe in Aragorn’s arms.

“I know little on,” said Aragorn tenderly and kissed the child one more time on the top of his head. “I know.”

III

Aragorn stood outside the door to the room where Éowyn was resting. He dreaded this conversation. He didn’t want to hear what had happened to the Shieldmaiden of Rohan. He wanted to see her as he remembered her. He wanted to remember the strong soldier, unyielding and powerful, the one who had fought so bravely in the war against such evil. The woman he had met in Edoras who wouldn’t allow any man or anyone controlling her or turn her into this submitting woman. A thought hit him. Maybe it was just such a person that they all had thought Faramir to be to put her into this state. They had all been fooled by his gentleness and the care he bore for other people. It had seemed to them all that Faramir always cared more for the sake of others than himself. How could they have been so blind and ignorant? How betrayed Éowyn must feel. Not one of them had cared enough to see. This was something that Aragorn would never forgive himself for. Nor would he try. Guilt was a small payment for allowing this to go on for so many years. He thought back to Elboron, he wondered if the child’s sleep was restless or if he was allowed the rest he needed as much as his mother, but he knew that as long as Arwen was with him it would be alright. He could still feel the little body in his arms give in to the slumber.

It hadn’t taken long before Elboron was asleep in the king’s arms. Arwen had looked at the child and her husband with tears in her eyes. Tears of sadness for the hurting and frighten child, but also tears coming from another place that stirred deep inside her. Looking at how Aragorn cared for the child made her longing for a son of their own. She longed for the child in her visions and seeing the king show their future son the same tenderness and love that this child was shown. She smiled a weak smile. If she had ever been worried that Estel wouldn’t be a wonderful father this little scene washed away all of such worries. She stepped closer the two and stroked the small boy over his unruly, dark hair.

“Sleep little one,” she whispered softly. “And when you wake up in the morning you will see the light of life again.” Aragorn had swallowed hard upon hearing these words. It was the words Lord Elrond had spoken to him soon after his mother had passed away. He adjusted his hold on the boy and leaned forward to kiss his wife softly and loving on the cheek.

“Will you take him somewhere he can sleep in peace?” He had begged her. “I need to go to the House of Healing and see how Éowyn is faring.” Arwen would very much have wanted to go herself but she nodded, deciding that the conversation that her husband and close friend would have would not be something that she should be listening to. She took the little boy, that was handing over to her, in her arms and begun to hum a soft lullaby in Elvish.

“Be gentle with her, my love,” she said quietly so that she wouldn’t wake Elboron up. “She has been through so much and she must feel so alone. You mean ‘hope’ my love, give that to her. Give her hope and comfort.” Arwen tilted in and rested her cheek on Aragorn’s upper arm. He had immediately wrapped his arms around the couple and hugged them before he left.

Now he stood here, the walk had taken less time than he had hoped it would have. He lifted his hand and knocked ever so careful on the rough wood.

Éowyn lay in her bed, with pillows behind her back. She was pale and looked through the window with a glazed look in her eyes. Her head was wrapped in many layers of stripes of cloth. Here and there were brownish spots of dried blood. She hated this, being trapped and carefully watched. She had no idea how all of this had happen. The last thing she remembered was when she was screaming at Faramir, telling him to let go of her, that he was hurting her. From there it was all darkness and pain. She didn’t remember anything before waking up and had people fussing over her. Repeating over and over again how sorry they were for her sake. All she wanted was to get out of this place. The soft knocking on the door made her aware of the present.

“Come,” she said a little bit too more agitated than intended. She was just so fed up with the healers always running in and out all the time. She wanted to be left alone with her thoughts and distress. When she saw who the visitor was she jerked up, Witch did nothing good to the aching in her back and head. A sudden flair of pain that shot at her like a dagger made her to slightly moan and close her eyes.

Aragorn was right by her side. He placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Be at peace, Éowyn. You need to rest,” he said with such a gentle voice that Éowyn went completely relaxed. As carefully as he could the king helped her lie back down. She obeyed right away, a sign to the man that the woman must be truly exhausted. Aragorn pulled the cover over her, patted her knee a little awkward and smiled a weak and sad smile. “We all want you to be on your feet as soon as you can.”

“Faramir also?” she asked carefully and looked with much concern on the king. How much did he know? Had Faramir told them? No he would never tell anyone, he would find a loophole like he always did. He could lie to someone straight in the face and it was never really a lie in the first place. He just didn’t answer the real question. But that wasn’t the same with Elboron. The child was still too young to know how to do that. Had he told anyone? This time all of this had affected him more than emotionally.

Aragorn’s face darkened and he sat down on the chair next to her bed and he closed his eyes.

“Even now, when you’ve just woken up after the ordeal that he put you through, you still ask for him,” he said through his teeth. Éowyn blinked a few times before could compose herself upon hearing this.

“He told you?” she asked and swallowed hard. Aragorn nodded.

“Yes he did, but the state you were in when we found you was proof enough. I can assure you that something like this will never happen again. He will never hurt you or Elboron!” Éowyn looked away and clasped a hand over her mouth. She didn’t know what she felt. The closest feeling must be relief. She closed her eyes and soon tears started to flow down her cheeks. She turned her back towards Aragorn and hid her face in the pillows. Her back and shoulders trembled and soft muffled sobs could be heard. Aragorn could not bear to see or hear this. He stood up from the chair and came around to the other side of the bed.

“You don’t need to hide or shield away from me Éowyn.” He gently pulled her up in his arms and held her against his body. He started to rock her, stroking her hair and kissing her temples. ”I don’t pretend to know what you must be going through, but I know this, you are not alone anymore and, whatever you may feel, you are not weak, you are not to blame and everything will be alright from now.” These words broke every little bit of self-control that Éowyn had left. She slumped against her king and wrapped her arms around him.

“Oh Aragorn…” She sobbed as a child and Aragorn just continued to comfort her. “I am so afraid,” her words were pained and she continued to cling to Aragorn’s clothes. “He never shows how angry he is when we are among other people. To them and to you all he is always so gentle and kind, but when there is just him and me even the slightest little thing sets him off.” Aragorn felt his whole body go rigid. He was glad that he didn’t have to ask her, but he was still appalled of what he heard. Éowyn sat back, still holding the king’s hands. She needed the comfort and strength to go on. “I know that he has had a hard life. His father never showed him any love. He was always compared to Boromir, to whom he always lost, and nothing he did was ever good enough in his father’s eyes. He was always punished and hurt when he said something that his father didn’t approve of.” She swallowed hard and her lower lip trembled slightly. “Have you seen the scars on his body? Not the ones from battle but the other ones. Still, after so many years they are still there almost as visible as if they just happened.” Again she leaned in to Aragorn’s chest. He didn’t objected, how could he when the woman in his arms was so hurt and needed him so much?

“It is truly awful and no child or adult should have to go through that, but it doesn’t make it alright for him to hurt you in the same way.” The king didn’t know what to do or say to make her feel better. Just being here was perhaps enough. The woman’s tears did not end upon hearing those words, but it eased her a little bit.

“But I should have been more patient with him. I should have thought about his past and…”

“No!” Aragorn interrupted her. “Don’t take any blame upon yourself. He had a decision to make and he decided to hurt you and your son.” Éowyn sniffled a bit and whipped away some of the tears from her cheeks.

“Elboron, how is he? Faramir hurt him too and I couldn’t do anything to stop him, but I tried. I really did! Have you seen Elboron? Does he hate me?” The words flew from her lips like a waterfall. The eager and concern in her voice could not be mistaken. Aragorn hugged her and kissed her forehead and with his thumbs he wiped away some of the stray tears on the woman’s pale cheeks.

“Hush, sweet Éowyn. You don’t need to worry. Elboron is fine, he loves you so much. He is sound asleep with Arwen and he asked about you over and over again.” How could she think that her son would blame her for anything? The boy was bright and clever. He understood when you spoke to him and he listened. Aragorn hoped that his future sons and daughters would be much alike Elboron. “You need to sleep now,” he said and lowered her down and yet again pulled the cover over her shaking body. “I will return to you as soon as I can.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheeks. It had seemed to him that when he kissed her she relaxed a bit more. It was innocent and just for comfort so none of them thought anything about it. Éowyn reached out her hand and grasped the man’s just before he got up.

“Thank you for everything Aragorn. You have given me hope,” she said and smiled to him. The first smile he had said seen since he came in to this room. “Tell Arwen to look after my son and tell her that I would love to see them both soon.” Her smile faded and tears started to appear in her eyes again. “And please tell Faramir when you see him again that… that I still love him.” Aragorn froze in his steps. How could she say something like this? How could she still love him? But he just cast down his eyes and bowed to her with a weak smile on his lips,

“He does not deserve your love, but I will tell him.” Aragorn looked at the woman when she closed her eyes and seemed to be as ease before he went out of the room and closed it carefully behind him. He turned around when he heard footsteps coming his way in a hurried way. A palace boy came running towards him.

“My lord,” the boy breathed and tried to calm down. “The queen, Lady Arwen needs you right now, my lord, something about young lord Elboron.” Aragorn thanked the boy before he hurried towards his and Arwen’s chambers. Whatever it was it was not something good. Oh Gods let him be alright, he thought to himself.

IV

Aragorn hurried down towards his and Arwen’s bed chamber. He heard the almost panicky crying from the boy before he even reached the doors. He opened the door and the sight that met him was chocking. Elboron stood in pressed up against the wall, tears streaming down his face and eyes wide open. Arwen stood in the other end of the room and tried her best to make the child feel at ease by just talking to him. It was obvious that it would never help. When Aragorn came in to the room his wife hurried up to him. He immediately opened his arms to hold her close to him. Arwen pressed her face against her husband’s neck and tried in vain to stop herself from crying. Aragorn, even though he wanted to comfort his wife and was aware of the state she was in, was more concerned about the young boy.

“Little one, won’t you calm down and tell me what has happened?” he said with his soft and calming voice. But this time it didn’t have the effect that Aragorn had hoped. Instead it seemed to add to the boy’s distress.

“I want my papa!” he screamed and sank to the floor, while the hopeless crying continued. “I want him, I want him, I want him” Aragorn met Arwen’s face but she just shook her head. She had no idea what to do. Carefully, the king let go of his queen and started to approach the boy slowly, so that he wouldn’t scare him.

“Elboron, listen to me,” he said, still with the same tone and voice. “You must listen to me. I know you love your papa and that he loves you too but your papa is not fit to take care of you or your mama. He is a bad man and he has hurt your mama for too long and now you have suffered his anger as well.” Elboron started to tremble. He heard the same meaning in the words from the king’s lips that he had heard so many times from mama and papa. That papa was a bad man and it was his entire fault. Even with his eyes opened he could picture all the times his mother came in to him with a concerned expression on her face, sometimes with streaks of blood on her face and clothes. She used to hug him close and say with tears in her voice that he shouldn’t disturb father for a while, that father was a bit upset and needed some time alone, she would ask him if he was scared and if he said ‘yes’ she would hold him tighter and promise him that this was the last time. There was no need to tell anyone. That everything was alright and it had just been a little argument. Sometimes father came in instead. They both said almost the exact same thing, with the slight changing that Elboron should leave mama alone for a while and papa always said how sorry he was, that he didn’t intend for this to happen. He too had tears in his eyes, and even if he tried to hide them the boy both saw and heard them.

“Papa is not a bad man” Elboron said for the second time this day. “It is not papa’s fault that mama gets sad and upset.” Aragorn swept the child up in his arms and tried to calm him down by holding him and whispering comforting words. But the boy did not accept the comfort. Instead he tried his best to wriggle out of the man’s arms.

“Hush, little one. You don’t need to protect your parents. Your mama will be alright and your papa won’t hurt you anymore.”

“It is not papa’s fault that mama hits him!” Elboron finally screamed from the top of his young lungs.

In the dungeons, back in his cold and unfriendly cell, sat Faramir and focused on keeping his breathing under control. He knew what broken ribs felt like. This was not the first and would most likely not be the last time something like this happened. Faramir closed his eyes and his mind drifted away as he thought about what would happen if Éowyn survived or not. If she didn’t he would be executed. Maybe that would be for the best. With his both parents dead maybe Elboron would grow up in peace and not always having to listen to what he had grown up hearing. He wasn’t worried about what was going to happen to him if neither of the boy’s parents were there. All they ever had caused their child was sadness. At least Faramir himself had only brought screaming, fighting and tears to his family. Faramir knew that both Arwen and Aragorn would look after Elboron. He would be safe and that was the most important thing. Nothing else mattered.

If Éowyn survived this ordeal, he would be banished from Gondor and would never be allowed to see his son ever again. He did not think that he could survive that. It pained him more than the multiple floggings and other punishments he had received during his life. It wounded his heart just to think that you would be alive but not able to hold your son, see him riding for the first time, hear him say his first Elvish words. Strangely enough, how much it hurt and saddened him, he was also almost glad. He knew that whatever happened, his son would not grow up without a loving father figure. Not only would the king be there. But his uncle, King Éomer, and the queen’s brothers, the hobbits, they would all of them be there and care for the boy. Make sure he was safe. That was a comforting thought.

A loud crash awoke him from his stray of thoughts. His eyes met those of Aragorn. The anger that shone in them made them dark as coal. Faramir scrambled up to his feet, ignoring the pain. But before he had the chance to say anything, Aragorn had already opened the door and come up to him. Faramir was roughly gripped by his upper arms and he swallowed the moan of pain that threatened to escape from his lips.

“Why did you lie to me?” The king’s voice was harsh and torn. It almost sounded like he was on the brink of crying. “Why didn’t you tell me? Do you think so little of me?” Faramir looked completely taken back by this sudden outburst. He had no idea what the king spoke about.

“I am sorry, my Lord, but I don’t know what you are talking about. I have never lied to you,” Faramir assured with so much honest in his voice that no one could eves suspect him of anything but.

Aragorn let go of his former steward and placed his hand on each side of the younger man’s face instead. Faramir almost recoiled but forced himself to at least pretend to be relaxed.

“I have spoken to Elboron, your son. He told me everything. He told me about the beatings, the screaming and the hidden tears.” Faramir paled visible upon hearing these words and swallowed hard. His little boy, sweet and caring Elboron…

“I never wanted him to see, I tried to keep it at secret. He should not have seen or heard. No one should have. I tried to talk to him, but I tend to forget that he is still so young…” he whispered and looked away from the king. But Aragorn would not have it that way. He could not just let this be.

“Look at me Faramir, please,” Aragorn begged and searched for Faramir’s eyes. Since it was almost an order, Faramir did what he was told, he had followed orders his whole life and been well trained not to disobey them. His eyes were shining with unshed tears but the same time they were clouded with shame. “Why didn’t you tell me?” The king repeated his question. “I could have helped you.”

Faramir softly shook his head in deny. What did the King suggest he would have said? He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. He had already shown too much weakness.

“I would not have thought you weak, I would have listened,” Aragorn said with concern as if he had read Faramir’s troubled mind. Faramir closed his eyes and suppressed the snort in disbelief that he felt the urge to utter. He felt his body go rigid, the flairs of pain made him even more vulnerable. The tightness in his throat and chest made it hard to breath and he almost started to feel a bit dizzy. He had fought hard for seven years to keep all of this a secret and he was not about to spill out all of his shame so lightly. But what else could he do now that his King knew?

“The truth is that Faramir, Steward of Gondor, prince of Ithilien, a soldier and former captain of Gondor, has hurt his wife their whole marriage and that has now left her on the brink of death.” Aragorn let go of the younger man in frustration and let out a sort of strangled noise.

“Stop this, Faramir! Didn’t you hear me? Your son told me!” The king sat down on the hard floor and stared in front of him. His hand’s pressed against his knees and lower lip quivering. Faramir swallowed hard and sat down on the floor too. A lonely tear fell down his pale cheek as he stared at the stray beneath him. “Why don’t you trust me Faramir? I thought we were friends. Friends tell each other when they need help,” Faramir closed his eyes and took a deep shaking breath. So now they were friends again? No more than a few hours earlier he was a monster in the Kings eyes. Not worthy of even being called a human being. “All the bruises, broken bones and cuts, were all of them from her?” Aragorn continued even though he was afraid to ask. The younger man seemed to be too upset to urge his vocal chords to work, but after what (to Aragorn) seemed like hours, Faramir nodded.

“But it’s not her fault. I make her so mad and upset that she doesn’t know what she’s doing,” he whispered softly. “I know I’m not an easy person to live with so don’t blame any of this on her. The fault is mine and mine alone,” Aragorn listened to the same words that he heard Éowyn utter earlier this day. How could a man of Faramir’s intelligence not see for himself how completely irrational it was that it was Faramir’s fault that Éowyn used to beat him. But before Aragorn had the time to object, his young friend continued. “And I did tell you one of the first times she hit me. Don’t you remember what happened?” the man asked in a low, but almost lighthearted, voice.

“You did? I don’t remember that at all,” the king said most bewildered. Surely he would remember if his friend had told him about how his wife had hurt him. Faramir smiled a sad and weak smile. It could in fact hardly be called a smile.

“I actually thought that you would have remembered it. Both you and prince Legolas seemed to find it most amusing by the way you were laughing.” Aragorn paled and his mouth fell open. He could not believe what he had just heard. Their friend had told them that his wife had hit him and they had laughed?! What horrified him even more was that he started to remember the time Faramir spoke about and the younger man was right. He remembered the split lip, the blood and the almost blackish mark on the man’s cheek. Both he and Legolas had laughed upon hearing that Éowyn had struck him with a candle stick and first asked him what he had done to make her so mad. They had even taunted him with it. Telling him with much amusement that he should be more careful with what he said or did around Éowyn. And next they had asked him what had really happened. They had made it perfectly clear to him that they didn’t believe him. And if she really had struck him it was his own fault and that he was to blame.

“I remember,” Aragorn whispered. “It was your first birthday after the War of the Ring.” Shame was all the king of Gondor could feel. Sure he had questioned if Faramir was capable to hurt Éowyn, but only in his minds. He had looked upon it as something shameful to not believe that Faramir could do something so vile. But when it came to Faramir, they had laughed at him and made fun of him. They had never once even considered that he told the truth and if they had believed him none of them thought that it was anything serious. A woman could not hurt her husband and if she did the man had brought it on himself. That was the way people reasoned. The king himself did it also. Aragorn knew that when someone witnessed a girl give a man a slap on the cheek everyone thought that the man was a brute who probably had been with another woman or something like that. But when the roles were turned, someone almost always came to the woman’s aid.

Aragorn felt sick. He called himself Faramir’s friend and yet he had stood there and mocked the younger man when he tried to ask them for help. He looked at Faramir with sadness and remorse in his eyes. ”Please Faramir. Tell me what happened that night, the whole truth, no more twisting and changing. Please, from the beginning. I promise I won’t laugh ever again.”

Faramir looked up and Aragorn felt his stomach turn when he for the first time saw the scratch marks on the man’s face. He had seen them when he came to question his steward, but he hadn’t seen them. Not for what they were. Then, they had been marks of self-defense, but now… Now they were something else, something that told a story. Something that if you had seen it upon a woman’s face would not have been turned down so lightly.

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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10 Comment(s)

Rather unexpected and intriguing view of our beloved Faramir. The tension is high, and I’m hooked. Thank you for sharing.

— LID    Sunday 5 May 2013, 16:33    #

Everyone blames Faramir. Maybe they should take a look at Eowyn.

— Ic2    Monday 6 May 2013, 18:49    #

Thank you for reviewing! I will update once a week :)

— Finduilas Minyatur    Tuesday 7 May 2013, 8:34    #

Very unusual and so interesting story! Yes indeed, with such a father, it’s not unlikely that Faramir should reproduce the model.
I find your style and grammar pretty good for a non-native, so I don’t think you have anything to worry about! And I also quite like Gondor’s justice as you describe it in this story: a rather more feminist view than is usually met with. Thanks a lot for this story and please keep on with it!

Ic2, sorry but I don’t agree about Éowyn. Whatever she did, surely that wouldn’t give Faramir the right to hit her to the point of almost killing her?
But she was brought up with love, not abused by her family like Faramir. It’s not likely she should reproduce such a model. Besides, Elboron was hit too and no one would think to blame him. And anyway it’s too early to say no one blames Éowyn, perhaps we’ll know more about what happened later. The author is implying that Faramir did suffer a lot all these years he mistreated his wife and son. Perhaps his violence can be understood, if not commended, when we know more.

— Nerey Camille    Wednesday 8 May 2013, 2:15    #

Yes, we must know more of this!

— Laivindur    Sunday 12 May 2013, 1:08    #

Chapter two is taunting me! Must know the whole story!

— Laivindur    Monday 20 May 2013, 21:18    #

Chapter three: read!
Eagerly waiting for chapter four!

— Laivindur    Friday 31 May 2013, 23:13    #

Thank you all for reading my story! and for writing a comment. It means so much to me!

— Finduilas Minyatur    Saturday 1 June 2013, 10:43    #

Oh…my…god! This is a good story.
Can’t wait!!

— Laivindur    Tuesday 11 June 2013, 23:42    #

Wow! …Please don’t tell me this was never finished?

— Treedweller    Friday 8 February 2019, 10:32    #

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