My Sword Trembles
by Agape4Rivendell
Chapter 20: Dilemma
Faramir’s head hurt. He was thirsty. He was
cold. Slowly, he opened his eyes. The sunlight through the pines looked
so pretty. Little streams of white. He watched as leaves from the
occasional deciduous trees interspersed throughout the evergreen forest
fell. He felt happy, even with the head ache. And hungry. He could not
remember the last time he had felt hungry. Sitting up, he looked about
him curiously. Where was he? He gasped as, to the left around a
campfire, he saw three people lying dead. He ducked his head back into
the lean-to and screamed into the blanket.
Aragorn stirred at the sound. The movement sent knives through his
head. The pain was near to unbearable. He put his hands to his head and
moaned softly. The ankle began to throb. What had happened? Better yet,
what had waked him? Something terrible. Heart-broken sobs rent the
clean air of Ithilien. He remembered! Faramir! Lifting his head from
the ground, he cried aloud as he spotted his unmoving brothers.
“Elladan! Elrohir!”
Faramir heard the cry and turned. He remembered now. This was Strider.
He ran to the man’s side, fell on the hard ground, and shook with sobs.
“I thought you were dead. I thought I was alone again.”
“Oh, sweet Faramir. I am sorry. We tried something, my friends and
I. Would you go to them, Faramir? You met them at the Mering months
ago. Elves. Do you remember? They are friends of mine, dear friends.
See to them, please.”
“I cannot. They are dead. I cannot touch them.”
Aragorn drew in a deep breath, willing himself to calm. “They only
seem dead, Faramir.” He prayed to the Valar that it was true, that his
brothers were not dead. “Please take blankets from the lean-to and
cover them until they wake.” It was the only way he could think of to
have the boy touch their bodies. ‘Elbereth, have them live. Please.’ He
heard stirring. Elrohir put his hand to his head and sat up. He heard
his brother’s gasp as he took in Elladan’s unmoving body.
“Elladan!” Elrohir whispered in horror. “Elladan, wake up.”
Aragorn nudged Elrohir’s arm with the cup of athelas. “Give him this, Elrohir. It may help.”
Elrohir took the cup with an unsteady hand, gently lifted his brother’s head, and poured a few drops into Elladan’s mouth.
The Elf’s eyes shot open. He shook his head and then moaned. “I think
the Valar might have kicked us whilst we were down, what think you,
brother?”
Elrohir laughed. “You are probably right. I do not quite understand it.”
Elladan turned to Aragorn. “Are you well, little brother?”
“My head feels like a troll clubbed me, but aside from that, and
the blasted ankle, I feel fine. We gave Faramir a hideous fright. Come
here to me, lad.”
Faramir made a wide path around the Elves and sat on Aragorn’s lap.
He heaved a heavy sigh and crunched into Aragorn’s arms. A small sob
escaped him. Then, “I am hungry.”
The three brothers laughed. Aragorn held Faramir close. “It has
been a wicked time for you, Faramir. I am sorry we gave you such a
fright. Elrohir, if he will get himself up off his lazy behind, will
finish making the rabbit stew. Would you like some?”
The boy nodded, hiccupped, then fell asleep in Aragorn’s arms.
“Well, so much for rabbit stew. He is exhausted.” Aragorn shifted
the boy in his lap. His back suddenly ached along with his head.
Elrohir took the boy from his arms and sat against a tree, holding
Faramir tightly. “Elladan will take care of the stew. After all, he was
the one who caught the rabbits. I have other things to tend to.”
“I thought you said we cannot save them all,” Aragorn gently mused at the look of love in Elrohir’s eyes.
“We can try – one at a time. This is a fine boy. He only needs some
healing and some guidance. What are you going to do with him, Estel?”
“I do not understand. I will take him back to Osgiliath. Hopefully,
I will not be recognized. The younger men do not know me. I will leave
him by the bridge, watch from afar to make sure someone finds him, and
then return to Imladris at our father’s command.”
“He needs someone to care for him.”
“What are you saying? He has his aunt; he has his counselors; he
has the men of Gondor’s army; he even has Húrin, the old curmudgeon. He
does not need me.”
“He will be your Steward someday, as you aptly reminded me. Would you have a Steward less knowledgeable than yourself?”
Aragorn ran his hands through his hair. “I cannot stay in Gondor. They will make me king and it is not my time.”
“I think Elrohir means you should take Faramir for a time and teach
him some things,” Elladan stirred the stew. “Teach him a Ranger’s ways
whilst healing his heart and imparting values that he will need. Values
you will need him to have as your Steward.”
“He is but seven years old.”
“When did you start your training, Estel?” Elrohir gently asked.
The Ranger blushed. “When I was seven. But I was in Imladris. My mother was with me. I cannot….”
“I think you have said cannot too many times for the Estel I know.”
“I cannot,” he glared at Elladan, “stay here in Gondor. I cannot take him to Imladris. What would you have me do?”
“I am a little disappointed that you cannot think of a solution.”
“Stay in Ithilien?” He stared at Elladan in surprise. “There are
Orcs here and Haradrim and fell beasts. I…” he bit his lip at the
‘cannot’ that he almost spoke. “Let me think, please.” He held his
still throbbing head. “What happened to us? Why were we rendered
insensible?”
Elladan sat back on his haunches. “The Song of Power was done
rightly. I think the power we unleashed was… incredible is the only
word I can think to describe it. If the boy is not spell-free, then
naught will free him.” He laughed aloud. “I think perhaps we did not
contain it. I think we might have missed some words.”
Elrohir chuckled quietly. “I think we missed something.” The
chuckle grew into laughter. His shoulders shook. “I am not telling
daernaneth what happened.”
“I will tell her,” Elladan finally stopped laughing himself. “I
need to know what words we missed. I wonder if she… Nay, all the Songs
probably do what she wants of them. None would dare cross her!”
Aragorn’s bright smile bespoke his love for Galadriel. “She never taught me the Songs.”
“She loves us more,” Elrohir burst into laughter again and this time, the boy stirred.
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes, Faramir.” Elrohir gently stroked the boy’s hair. “And the stew is ready. You said you were hungry. Are you still?”
“Starving.”
“I doubt that, but let us eat.”
They stood and Faramir turned to the West in silence.
Aragorn lifted an eyebrow, but waited till they were all seated and
were about the business of devouring the stew. “This is good,” he
smiled at Elladan. Faramir nodded in agreement, but did not stop
eating. “Faramir. Why did you keep the Standing Silence?”
“Because the Valar must be watching over us and I did not want to make them mad.”
“Ah. The Valar.”
Elladan and Elrohir looked at him, questions in their eyes. He held his hand up to stay them.
“So you think the Valar might hurt us if we do not give them obeisance?”
Faramir nodded, but continued eating.
“I do not think the Valar would hurt us.”
“Then, if they are watching us, as you said before, Strider, why did they not help us?”
“They sent two Elves from out of the forest, Faramir. What better help could there be?”
The boy looked up in surprise. “Yes. They did.” His brow furrowed.
“But why did you have to have your ankle hurt? And why did I fall into
the river? And why did Boromir die?” He threw down his bowl, threw his
arms across his face, and fell onto the ground, weeping bitterly.
Elrohir was the one who picked him up. “Shush, little one. Shush. All will be well.”
Faramir cried until his eyes hurt and his throat tightened
unbearably. Elrohir offered a cup of water. The boy took it and drank
greedily. Then, he clutched Elrohir’s tunic in his hands and sobbed.
They let the boy release his grief. The camp remained still for over an
hour. At last, Aragorn made a sign. Elrohir nodded. Enough time spent.
The lad would exhaust himself. “Faramir. You know there are bad things
in this world. But there are good things too. They battle each other.”
He shook his head; he was explaining this poorly.
Aragorn nodded to him in encouragement.
“You know that men can make up their own minds about what they do
in their lives. They have choices. Eru has given us the freedom to make
choices, Faramir. The bad men who murdered Boromir made a very bad
choice. The Valar could not stop them. Would not stop them because of
Eru’s law of freedom. Boromir was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
And, I am sorry to say this, Faramir, Boromir disobeyed. He chose to go
into the fight. If he had stayed back, he would be alive today.”
“But he was saving Amma!”
“He thought he was, but there were others around your amma who
would have helped save her. Boromir was not trained well enough to
battle such strong men, Faramir.”
The boy sobbed again.
Elrohir looked up in frustration. Aragorn nodded, smiling.
“Nothing will ever really explain why Boromir is dead. But it was
not to punish you. Eru and the Valar do not punish. Please believe me,
Faramir.”
The boy hugged the Elf and nodded. “I will try.”
”Good. Now, finish your stew. Strider needs to talk with you.” He stood and motioned for Elladan to follow him.
“I have not finished….”
“You are finished.”
Elladan shrugged and stood. “I will clean the dishes when we return,” he grumbled.
