My Sword Weeps
by Agape4Rivendell
Chapter 4: Sorrow Untold
The water was cold for this time of year
and
the boy before him shivered as the water reached his waist. He watched
him from the shore, splashing and shrieking at the same time and
started laughing himself. He pulled off his tunic and jumped into the
river trying to get as close to the other boy as possible. After three
or four steps, his foot found no purchase and his breath was stolen
from him. He started to sink. Flailing his arms about, he found he had
reached the surface. He gulped for air. Another quick breath and he
felt himself going under again. He could not bring himself to the top,
no matter how hard he pumped his arms and legs. He was going to drown.
A hand grabbed his wrist. He tried to fight the panic and let
himself be taken. He closed his eyes, willing himself still. The hand
pulled harder. His head broke the surface and he flung his eyes open.
The other boy was there, pulling him up and pushing him towards the
shore. He took three quick gulps as his heart started to calm. His feet
felt the gooey mud of the bottom and settled into it. The other boy
laughed, not letting his wrist go, and they staggered to the shore, the
mud trying to hold them to the river.
A man waited for them. Waited on the shore. He could not see who it
was; the sun was close to setting and blinded him. The boy started to
shake. An arm rose in the air, sword blade shining in the sun, and
slashed the other boy’s throat. Blood gushed into the Anduin as his
rescuer fell into his arms, grey eyes open and blank, mouth agape.
Faramir looked down and screamed. “Boromir! Boromir! No! Please no! Do
not leave me, Boromir!”
She held him in her arms, trying to contain the thrashing body.
Tears poured from Faramir’s eyes, but he would not wake. He did not
hear her. She sobbed between calling his name, “Faramir. ‘Tis I. ‘Tis
Indis. All is well. You are safe.” But Faramir never heard, never
stopped crying, thrashing and calling out Boromir’s name.
The healer knelt next to the bed, a cup of valerian tea in his hand.
Ioreth was trying to spoon a little from the cup into Faramir’s mouth,
but the child’s screams prevented most of it from doing any good. At
last, after what seemed like an hour, enough of the tea was swallowed
to settle the boy. Siriondil tried to lay the boy down, but Indis’ hold
would not lessen.
“Indis!” he called quietly. “Indis, he rests. Put him down now. Let the
bed comfort him.”
She stared at him as if he had lost his mind. “None can comfort him.
None will ever be able to comfort him. He will fade and… and…” She
could not speak, could not bring herself to say the words. Her chin
quivered. “He will follow Boromir.”
The healer heard her teeth chattering from the anguish that racked her
body; he forced a sip of the tea into her. She let herself swallow and
then choked on it, realizing what it would do to her. “I cannot sleep.
Not now. He needs me.”
“He needs to rest and he will get it now that he has some of the
tea in him. I will not ask you to leave the room, but I ask you to sit
in this chair, have a few more sips and sleep yourself. You are no good
to Faramir in the state you are in now. If you sleep, you will be
strong enough to help him when he wakes.”
Théodred stepped forward and knelt at her feet. “I will not
leave
him. As soon as he stirs, my Lady, I will wake you, I promise.” Tears
ran freely down the lad’s face.
Indis looked down at the boy before her, trying to be strong and
failing miserably. “I will do as you ask, Prince Théodred. I
will trust
you.” Her face contorted. “You will wake me?”
“I promise.” He stood and helped her from the bed and to the chair.
Ioreth brought over the tea while Siriondil examined Faramir.
“He did not hurt himself further?” she asked.
“Nay. He did not. I want to give him a little more of the tea and I
want to see you drink some of it too.”
“Only a sip,” she said and took only one. Her head nodded, exhaustion
pulling her eyelids closed as Ioreth removed the cup. The healer’s
assistant covered her with an extra blanket, gathered the cups, pots,
and herbs that the Master Healer was finished with, and quietly left
the room.
Siriondil put his arm on Théodred’s shoulder. “I will expect,
once
the Lady Indis has rested, for you to go to my chambers and rest
yourself. The oath will be forsaken if you die,” he said sternly.
Théodred looked at him, startled. “I promise,” he said
hesitantly.
“It has been some time since I rested. I will do as you ask.” Returning
to his post at the end of Faramir’s bed, he crossed his arms again and
stood at attention.
The healer smiled sadly at the sight before him. It took all his
willpower not to sob himself. Such a broken hideous sight: the little
boy, so grief-stricken that he could not function, lay as if dead on
the bed; the gentle lady brought down by utter sorrow; and the young
lad standing so still, every evidence of a broken heart etched in his
too young face. Breathing a prayer to the Valar for surcease, he left
the room.
Théodred sighed when the healer departed. Faramir had not had an
episode like this in weeks. What could have caused it? He prayed that
his friend was waking. Mayhap that is why his dreams, or whatever they
were that tormented him, were so vivid. He looked upon the little body
that lay before him and sobs shook him again. For Faramir, yes. But
also for Boromir. He must find a way to assuage Faramir’s grief; he had
promised Boromir he would take care of him. He was failing wretchedly.
A peregrine called. Theodred looked up, startled. It almost sounded
like Boromir’s call, when they were in the wilds, hunting. The hawk
called again and, this time Faramir stirred. ‘He must think it Boromir
too,” Theodred thought. ‘I must close the shutters. I do not want him
thinking Boromir is here. It would break his heart to hope and have
that hope dashed.’ Sobs shook him again as he walked to the windows.
The sun was at its zenith.
‘Why are the birds about,’ he thought. ‘They should be hiding from the
heat of the day.”
