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Burden of Guilt  by Linda Hoyland

These Characters are the property of the Estate of J. R. R Tolkien and New Line Cinema. This story has been written for pleasure and no profit has been or will be made from it.

'What is life if, full of care,
we have no time to stand and stare.' W.H.Davies

Aragorn finally completed his ministrations, satisfied that he had done all that he could for the time being to help his Steward.

Faramir opened his eyes at the cessation of the healing touch he had so been enjoying.

“That should suffice for today,” Aragorn told him, “I shall need to continue treating you for some time yet to heal you completely. The ligaments in your ankle are strained, which need time to mend, though I have eased the pain as best I can. You will need to keep taking the herbs for a while too.”

Faramir slowly stretched and found he could move much more easily, while the pain, which had tormented him for two long months, was almost gone.

“Let me help you dress now. I will leave your ribs unbound until you need to travel, you will be more comfortable that way.” Aragorn said, helping Faramir don his shirt and tunic. He was delighted at the change he could now see in his Steward. Already, Faramir looked more like his old self. His features were relaxed and the colour had returned to his pallid cheeks.

“Thank you! How can I ever repay you for your kindness to me!” Faramir exclaimed with heartfelt gratitude, looking at the King with something near veneration in his eyes. He reached out and hugged his friend.

Delighted to have the old Faramir back, Aragorn returned the gesture, and then placed his hands on Faramir’s head in blessing. “Be thou blessed and healed! It gladdens my heart to be able to help you,” he said smiling. “Now are you hungry?”

“I believe I am!” Faramir replied, somewhat surprised. He had almost forgotten the sensation of having a healthy appetite.

Aragorn relit the candles and called to the guards outside to bring the provisions he had brought. When he had ordered them to be packed, he had hardly dared to hope that Faramir would so soon be willing to share them with him

As the Guards brought in a large wicker basket, Faramir recognised a familiar face. “Damrod! It is good to see you, old friend!” he exclaimed, smiling with pleasure.

“And you, Captain!” Damrod found it hard not to stare in blank amazement at the change that had come over his former Captain in the brief time since he last beheld him. “It is good to see you looking better, my lord,” he exclaimed.

“You have Damrod to thank that we found you so quickly. I think he deserves both a promotion and a pay rise, do you not think?” Aragorn said, clapping Damrod on the shoulder warmly.

“I do indeed!” Faramir agreed.

Damrod and his companion served them with a simple but hearty meal of bread, cheese and fruit, washed down with a fine wine.

Afterwards, It was growing late and they went outside to answer nature’s call. Faramir found he could hobble along quite well, either by grasping Aragorn’s arm, or using a stout branch cut from a nearby tree as a walking cane.

He hobbled over to pat Iavas and reassure himself that she was being well cared for. Together with the King, he bade the Guard on Sentry Duty outside, a peaceful night.

They found that in their absence; the Guards had laid out bedding in the hovel and built up the fire.

“May I stay beside you tonight?” Faramir asked shyly, wanting to be near to the one who had served as his anchor, yet not desiring to be thought childish. Now he no longer felt tainted, he craved human contact, after so many weeks of shunning his loved ones and repressing his need for affection. Following the trauma of the day’s events, he sought the comfort of Aragorn’s presence nearby.

“A sensible idea as the air is chill,” Aragorn replied, sensing his need for reassurance. He arranged their make shift bedding side by side. Even fully clothed, they needed to lay their now dried cloaks on top of the blankets for extra warmth. They settled down for the night watching the fire bathing the hut in a comforting red glow.

“I am glad you found me,” Faramir said, nuzzling his head affectionately against Aragorn’s broad shoulder, knowing he had been lost in more ways than one. He knew now the King would not push him away like his father had done so often.

“So am I.” Aragorn replied, huddling protectively close to the younger man whom he had come to love as his own child, and placing a paternal kiss on his brow. “You are far too precious to lose, to me, to Éowyn and Gondor!”

It was a chilly and damp November night, yet Faramir felt warm for the first time in weeks, and almost free of pain despite his new injuries. He fell into a deep sleep almost immediately.

Aragorn lay awake for a while, listening to his companion’s quiet breathing. He found himself blinking back tears of relief. Today, he had come so close to losing his Steward and had dreaded nothing more than returning to tell Éowyn she was a widow. Soon he could restore her husband to her, sound of mind and healing fast in body. Faramir was recovering faster than he had dared hope. After the treatment for scarring, he hoped he would be whole again. The King rejoiced.

Aragorn slept fitfully, constantly feeling Faramir’s brow for signs of fever, which seemed all too likely after the day’s events. To his relief, there was none as yet and the Steward slept peacefully, his head still resting on the King’s shoulder.

Several hours passed and Aragorn eventually fell into a deep sleep, exhausted after the day’s events.

A choking cry from Faramir roused him, jolting him fully awake. Alarmed, he realised his Steward was struggling to breathe. He swiftly lit a candle from the fire and eased Faramir into a sitting position.

“What is wrong?” he asked, feeling Faramir’s forehead. The Steward was now slightly feverish to the touch.

“The baby! Hurts to breath!” Faramir gasped.

“Let me see.” Faramir nodded his consent as Aragorn anxiously pulled his tunic and shirt aside to uncover the damaged ribs. He pressed his ear against the bruised area on Faramir’s chest. He was fearful that one of the cracked ribs had pierced his lung, but everything appeared normal; if anything the bruising looked less angry than it had done earlier. Even his heartbeat, although rapid from his agitation, remained strong and regular.

“Take shallow breaths,” he advised the Steward as he gently felt the cracked ribs with one hand while with the other he covered Faramir's mouth to stop him from over breathing. “All will be well, trust me! Your lungs are sound; there is nought to fear. I will not leave you.”

Calmed by his voice, Faramir began to relax.

Satisfied nothing serious was wrong, Aragorn removed his hand, then fetched the salve and applied it, before pulling Faramir’s shirt down again. He sat beside him, rubbing his back and murmuring soft words of comfort, while waiting for the Steward’s breathing and heartbeat to return to normal.

"Were you dreaming?” Aragorn asked, once Faramir seemed calmer.

“Yes,” the Steward replied, shuddering as he recalled his nightmare, “I was with Éowyn and our child was being born and the midwife was telling her to take deep breaths. The child was born but it did not breathe and I was weeping! Then the pain woke me. It was all so vivid!”

“What you have experienced is commonplace for those with damaged ribs. It hurts to breathe deeply and you fear you cannot breathe at all. I sedated you when you were beaten to prevent that happening.” Aragorn explained, trying to reassure him, yet filled with alarm.

His thoughts were still closely attuned to Faramir’s and he sensed his Steward was having one of the premonitions he was prone to. He knew from experience they tended to occur when they were in close proximity to each other. Heightened emotions generated these fey visions, both factors that applied tonight

“I feel such a fool but the dream was so vivid!” Faramir said ruefully.

“How could it be true?” Aragorn asked, questioning himself as much as Faramir. “Whoever heard of a father being present when a baby is born? You have a slight fever, which must have helped prompt your dream. I will mix you some herbs to ease you. Then you need to rest. You need time to recover completely.”

Aragorn placed water on the fire to boil. He fetched two mugs and made two cups of tea, using some Pippin had sent from the Shire. To Faramir’s cup he added rosehips, catnip and valerian. Handing Faramir a cup, he settled beside him, coaxing him to drink the tea and telling him the latest news the Hobbits had sent from the Shire until Faramir became sleepy when the valerian took effect.

Aragorn settled his Steward under the blankets, propping him up with extra pillows to make it easier for him to breathe.

“Thank you, mellon nîn,” Faramir said gratefully, “Do you really think that Éowyn is well?”

“Why should she not be?” Aragorn replied, “I left her Arwen’s care. She would call Ioreth at once if she were worried, though I see no reason she should be. She senses your child is strong. It is not due yet for several weeks yet in any case.”

“I should not have left her!” Faramir sighed.

“You were not yourself and you will soon be together again,” Seeing that Faramir was still trembling slightly fretting over his wife and unborn child, the King placed a comforting arm around him.

“Peace, mellon nîn, come sleep, you are safe now!” he murmured. Faramir settled his head again against the broad shoulder and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Faramir slept; comforted his friend was close beside him. The King however, remained wakeful, hoping fervently that Faramir’s dream was but a figment of a fevered mind. It was far to soon for Éowyn’s child to born yet. He wished fervently that Arwen were here to offer him some comfort and her shrewd insights as to whether Faramir were suffering a mere feverish nightmare. Mentally, he shook himself, convinced his wife would chide him for indulging in such overwrought imaginings without foundation.

They slept until late the next morning. Much to Aragorn’s relief, Faramir’s fever had subsided and he was recovering well, though still frail from weeks of ill health followed from the trauma of the previous day’s events and a restless night.

“I am sorry for waking you last night!” Faramir said sheepishly,” I should not have reacted to a mere nightmare as if I were a small child!”

“Do not worry about it!” Aragorn replied with a rueful grin, “ I can react just as badly at times, especially if I have to sleep alone in those enclosed stone walls of the Citadel!”

The King went outside and discovered it to be one of those rare November days when the sun shines from a blue sky and the mist hovers over the trees with an almost ethereal quality. Brooding over nightmares seemed absurd on a day like this!

Even before examining his Steward, Aragorn decided it was best that they stay here for at least another day. They had sufficient provisions and he felt Faramir needed more time to recover away from the public gaze.

Also, if he were honest with himself, he was in need of rest almost as badly.  The past weeks had taken a heavy toll on him too. It would be a good plan if they could ride home together as if returning from a hunting excursion and thus reassure the people that their Steward was on the road to recovery.

It was good too, to be able to enjoy Faramir’s company again. They were kindred souls with much in common. Aragorn had missed him dreadfully during his illness; much as he adored Arwen; he needed Faramir’s companionship too. His wife’s analogy to love being like a rainbow had never seemed more apt; he knew now more than ever, that he needed all the different hues to feel complete. He counted himself truly blessed to have a wife, a son, a friend akin to a brother or grown son and Legolas, Gimli, the Hobbits, Éowyn and Éomer to surround him with their love.

The thought of Éomer made him sigh, when he considered his friend’s crippled condition and stubbornness. He could only hope that he would eventually come to his senses once the effects of his head injury had abated.

Today though, he was determined to enjoy a respite from the cares of state in Faramir’s company.

Later that morning, when his wounds were tended, Faramir was relaxed and seemed untroubled at baring his scars in broad daylight. The King was delighted at how well Faramir was healing; for as well as the bruises fading fast, and the Steward was much less sore when touched. Aragorn ‘s main concern was the painful and swollen patch under Faramir’s ribs. He bathed his Steward’s hurts once more in water in which athelas had been steeped, then applied salves to the injuries. Aragorn used his healing powers again as well as Elven laying on of hands, which seemed to be working very well now Faramir was so responsive.

They spent a quiet but pleasant day, sitting outside in the winter sunshine all afternoon and chatting to Damrod who showed a keen interest in the part Elven healing had played in his former Captain’s recovery.

Faramir had also developed a hearty appetite much to Aragorn’s delight. That night, when he settled to sleep beside his friend, he was untroubled by dreams and slept soundly, only once waking to complain that the King was snoring.

By noon the next day, Aragorn felt that Faramir was well enough to travel. The Steward was ready now to return to Minas Tirith, as he felt much stronger and was eager to be reunited with Éowyn.

The King had just given the order to break camp when they heard the sound a horse approaching at speed.

Aragorn and Faramir, thinking it was just a passing traveller, ignored the rider’s approach; Aragorn was intent on strapping Faramir’s ribs prior to riding home.

Faramir was just donning his shirt again when Damrod rushed into the hovel crying, “Pardon me, my lords, for disturbing you, but you are needed at once!”

TBC

 





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