My Sword Trembles
by Agape4Rivendell
Chapter 27: The People Wait
Targon stood at the western edge of the bridge.
This was the fourth day of his watch. When it was discerned that their
original campsite on the shore of the River was useless, Borondir had
allowed the boy to stay at the garrison in Osgiliath. He had only slept
fitfully since his friend had disappeared. Circles under the lad's eyes
caused many a soldier to grieve even further the loss of the Steward.
The boy's hair blew in the storm-whipped wind. The rain hid his tears,
and for that, he was most grateful. All these long days he had tried to
appear brave. His courage was wavering, had been wavering since the day
before yesterday. Borondir was now gone long past the time he promised
to return, and Targon began to think that his friend, Ragnhild’s
husband, was also lost.
The guards were changing. Targon worked up what was left of his
courage and stepped before the man. “Before you start your duty, sir,
might you tell me if there has been any news?”
Sadly the man shook his head. “None.” As he watched the lad’s face
fall, he put his hand on Targon’s shoulder. “You have heard that the
Regent herself has joined the search party?”
Targon swallowed. “I have.”
“If anyone can find him, she can. Remember, she saved him once. She will again.”
The man’s words were stirring enough to once again raise Targon’s
hopes. “She will. I remember that. She will find him,” the boy
muttered, then looked up. “Thank you!”
The guard squeezed Targon's shoulder then strode to his post.
Targon began walking up and down the bridge. Many who watched the
overwrought lad had suggested he wait in the mess or in the barracks,
but he had declined. Even working in the buttery had done naught to
ameliorate the fears that constantly assailed him.
He wished that Aerin was with him. When they had gone together to
Tarnost searching for traitors with Ragnhild and Borondir, the healer’s
assistant and he had become fast friends. He had not seen her much,
these past months, for she was in earnest training to become a healer
herself. He had been training further for his cook’s license. Whenever
they could spend some time together, they would spend it talking about
their schooling, their teachers, and what they had learned. Aerin had
even shown him, by using a rabbit, how it was that a man’s body worked.
Faramir had been with them that day. The Steward had been fascinated by
how muscles, bones, sinews, all connected so easily. They had laughed
together at his astonishment. Finally after their lesson was complete,
Targon had prepared the rabbit in a dish with tarragon and mustard;
they had heartily eaten the corpse. He laughed now at the remembrance.
And then put his head down on the railing of the bridge and sobbed.
An errand-rider galloped across and Targon had to pull himself
closer to the railing to avoid being run over. “The Steward is found!”
the man shouted as he rode past, “The Steward is found!”
Targon gulped a number of times, hardly believing his ears, then
ran to the buttery. ‘Cookies! He will want some cookies. The chocolate
ones. I wonder if they have chocolate,’ he thought in alarm. ‘If not,’
he turned resolute, ‘then at least oatmeal. They must have oatmeal… and
some raisins. Yes, chocolate if they have it; if not, then oatmeal and
raisin.’ His heart sang as he wiped the tears from his eyes. At that
very moment, the sun poked through the clouds and the rain stopped. He
looked up in surprise and saw the double rainbow straddling the
Pelennor. He gasped in joy.
~*~
All Gondor rejoiced at the return of their Steward. Indis’ esteem rose
three or four notches in her people’s eyes. She had once again returned
their Steward to them. The white banners of the House of Húrin flew
from every tower and near every window. Faramir led the march through
the Great Gate, Indis on his right and Listöwel on his left. Valanestel
and Borondir rode behind them, Targon seated in front of Borondir. The
cook’s apprentice held desperately to the saddle. Faramir looked back
for a moment and smiled reassuringly at his friend, then, leaned over
to whisper to Indis. “Might I teach Targon how to ride?”
She nodded and his smile widened even further. The Steward waved to
his people as the entourage slowly ascended to the Citadel. They
dismounted at the stables on the Sixth Circle and Indis led Faramir to
the Houses.
“I am really fine. I would very much prefer going to my own rooms.”
“I know you would, Faramir,” Indis kept her voice low so no other
would hear, “but it is one of the rules for a soldier of Gondor who has
been lost. That he present himself to the healers for evaluation and
permission to return to duty. Would you flaunt Gondor’s rules for your
own comfort?”
He blushed, straightened his shoulders, and walked into the Houses.
The rest of the party continued on into the Great Hall. They would meet
with their Steward for the daymeal in Merethrond. A feast was even now
being prepared and many would be there to celebrate Faramir's return.
The Master Healer, Siriondil himself, attended Faramir. After a
thorough examination, he pulled Indis aside as the boy dressed himself.
“He is remarkably well. How many days did you stay in Osgiliath to
refresh him?”
“We did naught. Once we reached the city, we stopped to break our
fast, but then continued on to Minas Tirith. Faramir was anxious to
return home as quickly as possible.”
“But… but he does not look like he has suffered at all. In fact,
the boy has gained some weight. His color is better than before…”
Siriondil blinked back tears, “since before Boromir died. How is this
possible?”
“I know not. We have not spoken overmuch of his ordeal. I wanted
him to rest before we discussed the horrors of it. But I see you are
right in your observations. Faramir is better than I have seen him
since before his father’s death! Borondir stated he was found and cared
for by Elves. I will see what I can discover. If there is aught that
can help the healers of Gondor care for their patients, then I will
send you word.”
“I would most appreciate it.”
“Come, Faramir. A hot bath is being drawn for you. And nuncheon will be ready once you are done.”
The boy smiled up at his aunt and waved farewell to the healer. “Thank you, Siriondil.”
As they walked towards the Great Hall, Indis was tempted to begin
interrogating Faramir, but stopped short as she looked in surprise, and
alarm, to see the wizard standing with Éomund on the steps of the Great
Hall. She clutched Faramir’s shoulder and he stopped, looking at her in
surprise.
“What is it, Amma? What is the matter?”
Turning to where she looked, the boy saw Éomund and any other
thought flew from his mind as he shouted the Rohir’s name and ran
forward, right into the open arms of the kneeling Rider.
~*~
A/N – My dear departed mom had always found it most difficult to
'dress' the rabbits my dad would bring home from his hunting
expeditions. She almost thought they looked so much like babies that
she would cry as she prepared them. What a wondrous woman she was!
