Faramir Fiction Archive

When the last hope leaves you (R)

Written by Anastasiya

19 December 2009 | 8720 words

I

This Land was the absolute Hell. It seemed to me that my black hair was going to fade from that ruthless scorching sun. I wondered how I could have thought before that there was nothing worse on earth than the boundless burnt territories of Mordor. But now I knew better – Harad was worse. Yes, Orcs destroyed all that delighted the hearts of people and their hatred also spread towards the people themselves. However, not even Orcs seemed to be capable of such cruelty that was living in the hearts of the Haradrims. To be so malicious towards someone of their own kind was beyond my understanding. I had heard a lot about that their habits often overstepped the limits of rationality. But now, when I was as the fates decree here, I wished nothing more than to leave this land once and for all.

However now I was standing here having neither the strength to move from my place, nor taking my eyes from the big arena rounded with high dais, where all of the noble people of Harad were sitting. Three young men, nearly boys, were standing in the centre of the arena with swords in their hands and gazing around. Rags and bruises covered their bodies as well as coursed behavior said to me that they were slaves. But their eyes shined with baleful and hating light for they were here to fight. Just kill and live or don’t and die.

My heart beat heavily… And I only wanted to run far away from here. But I couldn’t – not because of any unfinished matters, no, but because of the man who was just now roughly thrown under the feet of the young men. And in this moment, not even realized, I stopped breathing.

This was deliberate humiliation, deliberate mockery – to push him such in a way – face down into dust, half-clothed and defenseless before men with swords in their hands. ‘How had he managed to become such an obvious hatred to the Haradrims?’ I asked myself over and over again. And my heart stopped beating for a moment when one of the young men reached and thumped the lying man’s head with his foot. The head rose, and a strange feeling was transmitted to me as if I knew exactly what emotions stirred in the man’s heart in that very moment. I had been watching him for a long time. But I didn’t understand my feelings towards him. Like the senses aroused by the Ring of Power I loved and hated him. Hated him for the cruelty he killed with, because I thought – better to die than to do this constantly. And loved him – because of the searching gaze he looked at his rivals with, accurately reading sensations in their gazes. But on those faces was only cold resolution and hatred. Having no possibility to see him from the front, I could only imagine how brightly his blue eyes must sparkle in his pale face.

Meanwhile the man stood tottering, glanced over his opponents and took a few steps back under their pressing. A spiteful laugh was heard above his head from the high level of arena, and a big sword fell near his feet. But when the sword was lifted up all sounds died away in the expectation of fighting.

‘Strike!’ I thought, holding my breath, and my lips opened a little in a convulsive sigh when the man repelled the first assault. In the first few moments I had thought he would not withstand this time for he seemed so weak and exhausted, and the sword was too big and heavy in his hand. But soon all of that suddenly changed. And I knew that the Haradrims took pleasure in watching him that way, for he fought with the dexterity and grace of a wild cat. His copper hair flied through the air like splashes of water illuminated with the sunset. His movements were so smooth that they resembled an unusual dance, when he unexpectedly did a quick turn and pierced the one of his opponents.

“Who is he?” I asked again. Not expecting to get an answer I was startled when it suddenly was given.

“Faramir, youngest son of Denethor, steward of Gondor.”

I quickly turned around and met the burning gaze from a man, standing in the shadow.

“I have been watching you for more than two weeks now. You come here constantly. Take enjoyment in the sight of blood?” The stranger asked, and I heard the threat in his voice.

“Blood would hardly give enjoyment,” I said calmly. “I thought that every Gondorian knew that.”

“How do you know I am Gondorian?” he asked suspiciously and narrowed his eyes.

“Your appearance and the manner of your talking gave you away,” I answered. But I needed answer to my own question. “What is a son of Gondor’s steward doing here?”

“Fighting for his life as you can see for yourself. His own father condemned him to do it!”

I turned around quickly. “What?!”

“Denethor gave him to the Haradrims in exchange for peace in Gondor.”

And only the abrupt scream of pain swallowed up the cry from my chest. With my interlocutor, we stared together at the arena in terror.

Meanwhile Faramir sprang back, quickly repulsed an attack. And with all his might he slashed the body of his rival with his blade. A terrible cry escaped from the poor man’s chest while the admiring exclamations of Haradrims, zealous for blood, were heard from above.

Faramir looked madly mesmerizing in that very moment when he suddenly turned to his last enemy. But the enemy, as it appeared, had no wish to go on the fight. With trembling hand he thrown aside the sword and ran to the grille that separated an arena from outside.

“Kill him! Kill him!” The Haradrims cried to Faramir, and he slowly moved towards the terrified man. When the shadow of the Steward’s son fell on the shriveled creature I felt how agonizingly my body was strained.

“Kill him, Faramir!” The brother of the King of Harad, Ismail, cried in a loud and menacing voice. “For you are well aware of what will happen if you do not fulfill my order!”

‘What will happen?’ I thought nervously, and shivers ran through my body.

But I did not have to wait long to receive my answer. Faramir had cast away his sword, showing that it was better to accept the punishment then to kill a surrendering enemy.

And at that moment the grille opened and few solders gathered round him. Faramir was standing without stirring. His chest rose heavily and copper hair gleamed dimly with the sun. And so he waited for Ismail to approach him.

A cruel, dangerous gleam was in the eyes of the Haradrim when he faced the son of Gondor. He grasped Faramir by his throat and hissed, “This is not the first time you refuse my orders, you fool! You think nothing could crush your spirit, do you not? But now you will regret about that!” He brutally pushed Faramir, breathless, into the soldiers’ hands. “Tie him to the grille! And leave this one here!” He pointed on the young man. “Let him see what will be done to anyone who does not obey me!”

At the same time he chose the biggest whip and lashed it on Faramirs naked chest. The lean muscles in his body tensed, and the ropes cut deep into the already bruised limbs. I rather felt than heard the moan, escaped from the beautiful bloody lips. My nails dug into my own palms with such strength that drops of blood appeared. But the most horrible part of this act was still ahead.

I could not say how much time had passed or how many blows Faramir endured, but his chest was all in blood. In spite of that his teeth remained clenched that brought Ismail into a state of furious anger. In a rage he lashed Faramir’s face with back of his hand, and a slim red streams ran down out of nose and the corner of lips.

And in that moment anything changed. With a wave of his hand Ismail ordered to free Faramir and my hands relaxed in the expectation of the end. But next actions made me with all my being rush forward to shield Faramir from that cruel man. Only strong hands of the stranger held me in place.

“Stop!” he said holding me by the elbow. “You can do nothing to help him now! You will just make worse.”

“No! He will not survive it!”

“Survive!” he said calmly and in that very moment I doubted if he was a friend to Faramir. I turned around and looked straight at his eyes but saw there the same feelings I experienced – sadness and compassion. I turned my attention back to the arena.

Faramir was untied, and solders pushed him on his knees. He was nearly unconscious from pain and fatigue. Closing his eyes Faramir powerlessly leaned forward.

“Now you will open your eyes, you obstinate one!” Ismail cried out. Coming to Faramir from the rear he put his left hand round Faramir’s abdomen. Being the man of mighty building, he lightly lifted the weakened body and tore the cloth that covered the lower part of Faramir’s body with one quick ruthless motion. His erection was utterly aroused when he exposed him from his breeches. Parting Faramir’s buttocks apart, he pushed him into the unprepared entrance swiftly, wishing to do it more painful. And in that moment I saw, how agonizingly beautiful Faramir’s face distorted. But his eyes stayed closed.

“Open your eyes, pup!” Ismail cried. Gripping with his merciless hand fair hair he drew Faramir’s head back. And eyes opened at last. I stared at them fascinated, not even realizing how badly my own body was trembling. The pain with different gradations radiated from that blue eyes, and I beg him in my mind, ‘Steady! Stand firm! You must survive it!’

And then all was over. With one final thrust, too painful as it appeared, Ismail came into Faramir. Faramir screamed, and Ismail shouted with provocative laughter. It was like a challenge. A challenge towards Gondor. ‘See, what I am doing with the son of Gondor’s steward.’ And laughter was heard around from above.

I was shaking all over. The picture of the unconscious Faramir, having been taken away from the arena, stood before my eyes. My voice interrupted with sobs as I said, “You must help me. You must help me save him!”

“It is not so easy. Ismail does not leave his slaves unguarded, so they never have even the slightest chance to escape. Nor has he ever sold a ‘gift’, and Faramir was given to him by his brother – the King of Harad.”

This was true, but I did not want to hear his words. Now it became a question of my conscience and more over – the question of my life, for I could not live with it any longer.

So I would do it with or without him.

“How could Denethor treat his son in such a way?”

“But how can a mere mortal understand you, noble person?!” Damrod suddenly said in an angry voice. I stared at him in wonder for I had never told him about my blood, but said nothing, and he proceeded. “If we have children we love them equally and do not make difference between them… But all right. I will help you, my Lord. Faramir deserves it!”

A door leading into the royal chambers was swung open, and the big figure of Ismail appeared in the doorway with a sword in his hand. But he had no time even to look around when I boxed him into his temple with all my might. He fell down with a terrible crush.

I turned around inspecting the battlefield. Several dead bodies were lying, spreading on the floor, and blood dripped from my sword. Damrod finished the last enemy off and gave me a searching look. Absolute understanding ran between us and having nodded, Damrod dissolved in the darkness of passage.

Ismail was lying without any movements but I knew he was still alive, only neutralized. A strange, intuitive grasp visited me that he was destined to be killed from not my hand. And since that very moment the implacable counting of his last years began. Death would expect him in Ithilien few years later.

I stepped over him and quickly made my way to Faramir. He was lying on the bed on his stomach, unconscious. His naked body faintly shined from the blazing candles. I bent over him, carefully turning over, and held my breath for a moment glancing at his face. He was beautiful. Even in spite of haggard cheeks, bruises and scratches he looked so perfect. But almost too pale and serene that I feared if he was still alive. However his weak breath calmed me.

I impatiently shook my head taking all thoughts away. With a quick motion I wrapped Faramir into my cloak and carried him out from the chamber. The corridors were still and empty and I easily came through them with my light load.

Damrod waited for me outside. He looked closely at my worried face, asking, “Is he all right?”

“I do not know… He is unconscious.”

“There is nothing to worry about,” he said inspecting Faramir’s face and body. “He is alive. He is under the action of the drug Ismail has given to him.”

“Drug?” I asked in wonder. “Why?”

“Lord Faramir is proud and stubborn. Even being in semi-syncope he would hardly allow anyone to take him without any resistance. It would inevitably lead to more wounds. And I doubt that Ismail wanted to hurt him more than he had already done, at least in such a way. But let us not talk about it now, my Lord. We need to leave this city. Follow me!”

Some time later we were in a tunnel, leading far beyond the bounds of the city. It was tight enough to thread our way with difficulty, but it was almost secret, so we would not fear for pursuit.

The full moon high above illumined the mighty trees before us when we slipped out at last. Damrod vanished for a few moments but then came back holding the horse by the bridle.

“I cannot give you two horses now for it’s not within my power. But this one is strong enough to carry you both,” he said.

“And you?” I asked.

“I have some business yet to do. So here our ways go separately. Here are some food and blankets for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Do not thank me. Let us clothe Lord Faramir,” he said. While we were dressing Faramir, Damrod went on. “If you follow my instructions you will reach the mountains by tomorrow’s evening. There in the forest at their foot you can have some rest,” he kept silence for a moment but then thoughtfully said. “It is hardly that Ismail would suspect you to move in this direction…”

He helped me to set Faramir on the horse and I lightly jumped on behind him.

“Be swift,” Damrod said again, “but avoiding the roads and settlements. In ten leagues from the forest you will find the only colony candidly aggressive towards the Haradrims’ nobility. And there you can exchange your horse to a pair. But do not risk more than it is necessary for if you are caught, no one could help you. You both will pay for it. But Lord Faramir will pay three times as much.

He took Faramir’s hand and kissed it. Then at last he looked up at me and said, “Farewell, my Lord!”

“Farewell to you too!” I said pressed Faramir to my chest and rushed along – rushed from these cruel people, from that damnable city, carrying Faramir with me.

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