Chapter 17

In the pink-tinged light that heralds the dawn Faramir kept a peaceful and contented vigil. Éowyn lay in his arms, her head pillowed against his breast and her arm tucked around his waist. She had fallen asleep hours before, willingly succumbing to the pleasant exhaustion of a night of passion and laughter. Her hair tickled his chest as it was gently blown by his breath but he ignored the irritation, not wanting to risk moving and disturbing her sleep.

He was overwhelmed by the intensity of the emotions of finally having her in his arms, of sharing his body and his passion with her; nothing in his past or in their previous encounters of snatched kisses and furtive embraces had prepared him for this.

Now he could finally understand the mystery that had puzzled him since he came of age. He had always thought that he was lacking in some fundamental aspect and yet one night in his beloved’s arms had proved to him that there was no defect in his nature or in his understanding. Years ago, after graduating from the cadets and before taking up his posting to the Rangers in Ithilien, Faramir and his contemporaries had been initiated into the sensual arts of love by the discrete and knowledgeable ‘ladies’ of a well-run house of pleasure in the third circle of the city; another rite of passage on the road to adulthood. The ladies had been well trained and under their patient tutelage he had learned to give and receive pleasure but for Faramir something was always lacking and while his body responded to their ministrations he always found these anonymous couplings unsatisfactory and emotionally sterile. He had assumed that the fault lay with him, that he was just not a sensual being and so he had subjugate that side of his nature and diverted his energies into the performance of his military duties. It had added to his sense of isolation but he accepted his lot, indeed the opportunities for romantic dalliances had faded away as the threat from the east had increased.

Now, in a matter of hours Éowyn had shown him how wrong his previous doubts had been, together they has shared passion and tenderness, sensual caresses and laughter; they had come together emotionally and spiritually and when their mutual passion  peaked both had wept tears of healing and bliss.

Now, as the first birds of the morning raised their voices in song to greet the dawn Faramir settled the blanket around Éowyn’s shoulders and, dropping a tender kiss upon her head, finally relaxed into blissful sleep.

~~**~~

As this was to be the final day of the adjournment of the tribunal Faramir invited Éowyn

to  decide how they would spend their time. She asked if they could ride out to the river. Before they departed she took Faramir by the hand and led him to the little balcony garden that had once belonged to his mother. She took a drawstring bag from her knapsack and held it out for him to hold. He looked inside and saw it contained the spray of lilies she had carried as her bridal bouquet.  She knelt down and drew the ornate dagger he carried tucked into his left boot and used the knife to cut one bloom from each of the rose bushes planted so long ago. She handed each bloom carefully to him and indicated that he should place it in the bag. When she had finished her task to her satisfaction she took his hand and led him through the corridors and out into the garden of the White Tree. Her first stop was the bridal bower; she clipped a few blooms and added them to the collection in her bag.  The final stop was the White Tree itself. She flashed him a cheeky grin and climbed up onto the stones surrounding the pool.

“Éowyn, no…you cannot, you will get us both clapped in irons!” Faramir looped an arm around her waist and lifted her to the ground, holding her pinned to his side.

“Faramir put me down.” She twisted round in his arms and dropped a kiss on his nose, laughing at his stricken expression.

“I have permission.”

“Well I hope you have it in writing. Aragorn is very protective of ‘his’ tree and I have instructed the Citadel Guards to act first and ask questions later!”

Further discussion was cut off as he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“I hope you weren’t planning on vandalising ‘my’ tree”

Faramir turned slowly to find himself under the stern-eyed gaze of the King and Queen. He winked at the royal couple.

“No, Sire. It was Éowyn!” The lady in question punched his arm.

“Fine, not yet married for one day and already you have forgotten your vow to protect me,” she pouted.

“Sire, I fear I have made a grave strategic error, already my wife think to rule the roost.”

“Take my advice, Faramir,” Aragorn whispered, loud enough for the ladies to hear, “it is always wise to give the ladies the impression they are in charge…it makes for marital harmony!” This earned him a cuff from both ladies as they all giggled. Arwen reached over and plucked a single bloom from the tree and placed it in Éowyn’s bag.

“Will you join us for supper this evening,” she enquired.

“Thank you for the offer but we had planned on a quiet evening together.” He blushed as he spoke.

“Quite right, Faramir,” said Aragorn. “Would you join me for breakfast in the morning and we will discus matters that will require your attention while I am tied up with the tribunal.”

“Of course. Will it last much longer, Aragorn? It seems to have been dragging on for ever.”

“My guess would be about ten days….but enough of business. Be off with you and enjoy yourselves today while you have the chance.

~~**~~

It soon became clear that they were riding in the direction of Osgiliath. Éowyn pushed the pace leaving Faramir and the escort hard pushed to keep up; it also prevented conversation and Faramir was still unsure of her intention.

Stonemasons and engineers were at work in the ruined city, the rhythmic toll of hammer on stone announced their presence even when they were hidden from sight within the labyrinth of shattered and blasted rock. The loose masonry had been carted from the confines of the city for salvage and the workmen were working systematically through the city making safe the shattered walls. Not a single building had escaped the ravages of war and siege and though the city held strategic importance as a crossing point on the river Faramir doubted that it would ever be rebuilt or re inhabited. The only construction in progress was to rebuild a permanent bridge to join the east and west banks of the river.  Already stone pillars were rising from the waters edge to support the main span. A hundred yards down stream a temporary rope and plank bridge offered easy access to the far bank.

Leaving the horses with the escort, Éowyn led Faramir to the centre of the bridge. The bridge swayed under their feet and Éowyn clutched his hand tightly.

“Éowyn, why are we here. It is not a cheerful place!”

“No, but it is a symbol of the past,” she said turning him until they stood face to face; she put her arms around him trapping his arms against his side.

“I want us to put the past behind us…not to forget or dishonour our memories but to say our farewells and let our loved ones go!” Her eyes welled and a silver tear slipped down her cheek. “There were too many absent faces yesterday; friends and family who should have been there to share our joy…but we have to let them go.” Her head dropped against his shoulder and she wept. He loosed her arms and embraced her, not caring that his own emotions poured forth. When her grief was cried out she brushed away her tears and took the bag from her back. She plucked out four lilies from her bridal bouquet, kissed each one before dropping it over the edge into the river’s embrace.

“For Théoden King, who was as a father to me.”

“For Theodred, as dear to me as a brother.”

“For my parents who left me so long ago,” she whispered.

Reaching down into the bag she took a handful of roses, she broke them apart allowing the multi-hued petals to flutter into the air, spinning and twirling in the breeze until they gently settled onto the swiftly flowing current.

 “For the brave men of the Mark who didn’t live to see the peace…Rest you all in peace.”

Faramir swallowed down the lump in his throat and hugged her to his side. She held the bag out to him. He selected a yellow rose.

“For my mother, who is but a distant, loving memory to me.”

A hand full of coloured petals spilled  from his fingers. “To the brave men of Gondor, to my Rangers and my comrades who gave their lives.”

A lily next. “For my father, may he find peace in the halls of his fathers.”

Taking the bloom from the White Tree and holding it secure he tipped up the bag and let free all the remaining blooms to flutter on the breeze like multi-coloured snowflakes. He held the last symbolic bud up to his face, closing his eyes as he inhaled its scent.

“For my beloved brother, Boromir. May the Gods keep you safe until we meet again.” He kissed the flower and watched as it came to rest on the same restless waters that had carried his brother away on his Elven bier. They stood arm in arm as the last precious token passed beyond sight.

~~**~~

For Faramir the following days passed in a blur. With many of the King’s duties on top of his own responsibilities his days started early and ended late. In addition to his existing duties Aragorn has asked him to prepare a short list of prospective candidates for a new council. He and Tamir spent hours selecting and short listing possible candidates from the nobility and from those who had proved their honour and integrity in the war. Backgrounds had to be checked and business interests declared.

It was after one of these long lesions that Faramir suggested that they take a break. He led Tamir out into one of the gardens, intending to broach a subject he had long been postponing. Tamir, ever tuned to his superior’s demeanour broke the silence.

“What troubles you, my Lord?”

“Tamir, I hope you know how much I value and treasure your service to me. From the day I plucked you from the Cadets you have served me with loyalty and devotion, above and beyond the call of duty.”

“It has been my honour and privilege, Sir,” he assured firmly but was unable to disguise the anxiety that now filled him. “Why do I fear I am about to hear bad news, Sir.”

“My apologies, Tamir. I do not wish to distress you but I have long been concerned about your future and I feel it is time to make some changes…when Lady Éowyn and I leave for our trip to Dol Amroth I would like you stay and resume your service in the Rangers.”

“Why Sir. I do not wish to leave you, Sir…Do not send me away!”

“This is not about sending you away, Tamir.  I am thinking of your future. You have proved beyond doubt that you have skills and talents way beyond your years but as my Adjutant you can never advance from where you are now. I want more for you than that! I want you to go to Beregond in Ithilien so that he can train you up to be his deputy…in time to be his successor!”

“You think I am capable of that, Sir.”

“Of course. And in a year or two Lady Éowyn and I will make our home in Ithilien and we will be working together again.” He smiled at his young protégé.

Tamir took a moment to digest this sudden change in his future.

“Sir, would you be able to find room for your household for a healer?”

“I think Lady Éowyn will want to choose the household retinue. Why do you ask?”

“I have been courting Sir, and with your permission I would like to marry”

“I see I am not the only one with secrets,” Faramir laughed. “Who is the lucky maid?”

“Her name in Jeaniel and you have met her,…in fact you could say she knows you intimately, Sir!”

“What!”

“She cared for you when you had the fever.” Tamir laughed at Faramir’s discomfort.

“Thank you for that, you cheeky young pup. I will never be able to look her in the eye now. Will she be happy to leave the city?”

“I believe she will be happy to go where I go.”

“Then you have my blessing…on one condition.”

“And what would that be, Sir.”

“That you delay the ceremony until we return from the south. I would like to dance at your wedding.”

~~**~~

At their morning breakfast conference, Aragorn announced that the tribunal would likely finish hearing evidence that day and that Lord Beranin would begin his final conclusions the day after. With the end of the procedure in sight Faramir set about his duties with a light heart.

The duty Officer had given his daily report and Faramir and Tamir were engaged in ploughing through the seemingly endless pile of documents when a knock at the door disturbed their toil.

“Sir, there is a Trooper here who requests permission to speak to you. He says it is urgent.

“Send him in.” The Trooper entered and saluted.

“Sir, I apologise for disturbing you but I cannot find the Commander and I’m not sure that this can wait!”

“What!”

“I was on today’s detail allocated to Lord Haralil. We escorted him up to the Citadel and he was handed over to the care of the Tower Guard. I was due to go off duty and as I made my way down through the city to the Garrison I noticed something odd, Sir. People were leaving Lord Haralil’s mansion…women, children and servants on horseback or in carts, Sir.”

Was the house not under surveillance?”

“Only when Lord Haralil was present, Sir. The others of his household were not under restriction,”

“And where is Lord Haralil now?”

“In attendance at the tribunal, Sir.”

“Right. Take this to the Duty Officer.” Faramir scribbled an order and authenticated it with his seal. “The City gate is to be sealed. No one is to leave without a pass signed by the King or myself. If the entourage have already left the city I want a swift rider sent to the Guard Commander at the Harlond. All vessels are to be impounded until further notice. Lord Haralil’s entourage are to be taken into custody.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Go then and be quick. And thank you, you have done well.”

“Tamir, I want the guard on Lord Haralil doubled…he is not to be left unattended. If there is any sign of resistance he is to be arrested and placed under lock and key. When the Tribunal takes a recess at midday inform the King what has happened. I will ride out to the docks and find out what is going on.”

By the time Faramir and his escort arrived at the Harlond the entourage had already been detained. The wagons and servants were under guard in a warehouse and Lord Haralil’s family: his wife, two widowed daughters-in-law and their children and his son, a youth barely into manhood, had been escorted into the Quay-master’s quarters.

A quick search of the wagons revealed that this was an organised removal and showed every indication that the family planned to leave the city permanently. Faramir ordered that the cargo hold of the waiting vessel be searched; household items, valuables and furniture and a large quantity of gold were found concealed amongst the cargo of timbers.

“Lady Haralil, I am Lord Faramir, The King’s Steward. I have a few questions for you.”

“I know who you are! You are the young up-start who has seen fit to persecute my husband and drag his good name through the mire!” Faramir ignored the insolence of the retort.

“No, My Lady, I am the one who exposed your husband’s corruption. The only shame levelled at Lord Haralil is that which he has brought on himself and he will have to answer for it.”

“That is a lie.” She spat. “My husband has spent his life in the service of Gondor, his son’s gave their lives and now you seek to dishonour our family name.”

“I know of you son’s bravery and sacrifice, Lady, and I honour their memory for it but that does not excuse your husband’s actions nor will it negate the requirement that he answers for them. Now, what is the purpose of your travel?”

“That is none of your business!”

“I can assure you that  the Quay-master will extend you his hospitality for as long as necessary.”

“You have no right to detain us, boy!”

“I ask again, where and what is the purpose of your travel?”

“We go to Belfelas, to our villa; the climate is beneficial for my health.”

“And you intend to travel without your husband?”

“He will join us when this mockery of a tribunal is over.”

“And if he is convicted?”

“He will not be. He has assured me that he will be exonerated.” Faramir gasped at her naivety but it was clear she believed her words. He turned to her son.

“What is your name?” he asked the pale, sullen young man.

“Earlic, Sir.”

“And what do you know of this business?” The boy looked to his mother; her expression could have frozen steam. Faramir turned the lad so his back was to his mother.

“Nothing, Sir. My father never saw fit to include me in his business or council dealings. He thinks me fit only to run errands for my mother and sisters. He has no use for me.”

“And you are happy to leave the city?”

“I have no say in the matter, though from choice I would stay here. I help the archivist when I am able and there is no library near the villa.”

“I see, and can you tell me when your father intends to join you?”

“…No, Sir.”

Faramir went next to see the Ship’s Master.

“You work for Lord Haralil?”

“Yes, Sir. He owns this vessel.”

“And what are your orders…what is your destination?”

“Down river to Belfelas and then down the coast.”

“Your cargo?”

“Timber for Belfelas, then I pick up a cargo of wine and grain to trade for spices and silks.”

“And do you have any other orders,” Faramir asked. “Think carefully before you answer! For if I discover you have been conspiring with Lord Haralil, the next time you traverse these waters will chained to the oar deck of a quarry barge.” The man paled.

“I was to leave as soon as the passengers and baggage were aboard and travel downstream for thirty leagues before tying up for the night to await the arrival of three more passengers.”

“Their names?”

“I wasn’t told, Sir….but I believe one was Lord Haralil.”

Faramir gave orders for the ship to depart, without its passengers but with a contingent of troops on board. With Lord Haralil’s family in secure accommodation for the night he returned to the city, arriving at dusk. He reaffirmed his orders to the gate-guard and had extra patrols sent out into the city. Having ordered Lord Haralil’s immediate arrest he made his way to his office.

“All quiet?” he asked the guard on duty at the entrance to the citadel.

“Ay, Sir. The King was asking for you earlier and asked that you attend him at your earliest convenience.”

The main chamber was in darkness but for the low red glow from the hearth. He moved carefully towards the fireplace to light a lantern. As the candle flared instinct warned him that danger threatened but too late for him to take action. He was grabbed from behind, his left arm forced painfully behind his back; he felt the cold bite of a blade at his throat.

“Not a sound or the boy will have more than a headache.” The voice was rough and unfamiliar, Faramir forced down his panic to take stock of the situation.

He saw Tamir stretched out on the floor, insensible, a corona of blood pooling under his head. The assailant pushed Faramir forward towards the door to the small sitting room beyond. He paused at the door, shocked to immobility by the tableau before him.

Aragorn was bound and gagged, secured to the arms and legs of a heavy wooden chair. He struggled against his bonds when he saw Faramir but a second assailant moved out of the shadows and placed a blade against his neck.

“So, the King’s pup has returned. How fitting that he should be here to see his master’s demise!”

Faramir struggled but was powerless to escape his captor. He was forced down to his knees and his hands secured cruelly tight behind his back. The knife moved back to his throat.

“Lord Haralil, stop this madness before it’s too late,” he urged, consciously keeping his voice calm and even. The Lord stepped forward and struck Faramir across the cheek with such force that for a moment his vision went black.

“You have nothing to say I wish to hear, boy!” the Lord sneered.

“You can gain nothing by this action; you cannot escape. The city is sealed and every soldier in the city has orders to detain you on sight; your family are in custody and your property has been seized…You cannot prevail, give yourself up while you have the chance…before it’s too late!” Faramir urged, desperate to stop the situation escalating.

Lord Haralil paced, taking in this unexpected information. The silence lengthened. Faramir felt the King’s gaze upon him and he raised his eyes trying to pass a measure of reassurance to his friend.

“Lord Haralil, your quarrel is with me. If you have any love left for Gondor and all that your sons gave their lives for, do not hurt the King!” Faramir begged.

“It is true the King was not my intended target but given the change of circumstances, what better chance to rid Gondor once and for all of this Northern up-start and his puppet. With both of you gone I can take Gondor forward into the future!” Faramir faced the sickening realisation that the man was beyond reason.

“Gondor will never accept you. Do you think Prince Imrahil, King Éomer or any of the loyal Nobles will bow to you…”

“ENOUGH” he yelled. “Finish the task,” he ordered his silent accomplice. Faramir struggled forward against his bonds in a vain attempt to protect the King. Pain exploded in his head and he slumped forward into oblivion.

TBC