Chapter 13 - Renegade

"Gandalf the Grey." The voice chilled Faramir to the bone. For a moment he could do nothing but stare at the worshipful figure in the doorway. He squinted into the light that reflected off Saruman's robes. They seemed at first to be white, but as the Wizard moved forwards into the chamber, they shimmered and changed, pale colours shifting in the light.

"Perhaps, my old friend, you would be glad of another chance to unburden your mind. I have given you time to think, generous I have been, but my patience is not inexhaustible." The voice was entrancing, mesmerising, Faramir felt himself wondering how anyone could have accused Saruman of treachery.

Through Gandalf, Faramir felt the irresistible need to rise before the Wizard, and a sharp pain in his back as he tried to stand. Gandalf had been hurt, not only physically, and Faramir was not going to let Saruman's voice fool him again.

At last Gandalf did manage to drag himself up, gritting his teeth and using the wall the pull himself to his feet.

Faramir looked into Saruman's eyes and was frightened by what he saw. Malice, hate for Gandalf's pureness, lust for power. But there was strength also. What could not have this Wizard have achieved if only he had resisted the temptation of power?

"I will ask you again," the voice was still benevolent but persistent. "The name of the bearer. A simple answer, that is all I ask. Be not unwise, Gandalf, in your choice of allies. What do you hope to achieve by joining with those pathetic fools? Even now they are being brought to Isengard. Make it easy on yourself, on them."

Gandalf hid a confident smile behind his white beard. Saruman, he thought, you may be wise but you underestimate the 'pathetic fools' who hold your one desire. You will never get this thing, nor will I reveal anything to you now he knows your mind.

"When they come you will spare them much pain and torment if you tell me what I wish to know." Saruman was still persistent, but Faramir could see Saruman was growing angry at his silence.

Gandalf drew himself up tall, straightening his sore shoulders, "You are a greater fool than even I guessed, Saruman, if you believe I would betray my friends this easily."

An angry light flashed in Saruman's eyes, "So be it." Immediately Faramir felt a crushing weight on his mind. He barely stopped himself from crying out as the terrible pain grew too great to bear. He sank to his knees, his hands pressed to the sides of his screaming mind. He realised what was happening, Saruman was trying to break through the barrier in Gandalf's mind and read what he wanted from his head.

Saruman's staff glowed brightly in his hand and a horrible light shone in his eyes, "You cannot resist forever!" Saruman's voice rose over the pain. Angry tears blurred Faramir's vision as the weight grew too much to bear. The world spun and dissolved into blinding light . . .

Gimli's silently twisted and rubbed his hands together. He felt so useless not being able to think of anything to do to help. When Faramir had first called out, Gimli had jumped up, his mind still half-asleep, to find Faramir lying on his back, clutching Gandalf's broken staff in his outstretched hand. His eyes were squeezed shut and his face contorted with either confusion or pain.

Legolas had already bent over him, looking for a sign of what could be wrong with the man when Faramir had began to shake. The Elf drew back, not knowing what to do. He turned his head and met Gimli's worried gaze. Legolas' face was mostly blank but Gimli saw the deep concern in the Elf's green eyes.

"Aragorn! Quickly!" There was no need for Gimli to call him for the Ranger was already hurrying over, the Hobbits close on his heels.

Aragorn dropped on his knees by the trembling body. He pushed Faramir's dark hair away and placed his steady hand on the man's forehead.

"He is burning up. We need to bring his temperature down. Sam, some cold water, quickly!"

"But he is shaking, Aragorn, surely than means . . ." Legolas trailed off, not knowing what to say.

"Gimli." The Dwarf looked up upon hearing his name and noticed Aragorn giving him a meaningful look. Merry and Pippin watched, their eyes wide and scared.

"Young hobbits," Gimli put a hand on each of their shoulders, "I can trust you to find a blanket for Faramir, couldn't I?" Glad to help, the two Hobbits scurried away.

Aragorn took the water from Sam and held a wet cloth to Faramir's brow, hoping to cool the burning skin. Frodo also knelt by Faramir, his small hand calming the shakes that passed through the larger hand he held. Gimli was touched by the gesture, almost wishing he was not a proud Dwarf so he could display similar feelings so innocently.

Gimli pointed his stubby finger at Faramir's other hand. "Look, the staff! That is what ails him." Gimli lunged forwards, determined to prevent any further harm from being done to his friend. His fingers had only just made contact with the wood when a searing pain ran up his arm. He pulled his hand away at once, groaning as his fingers throbbed and burned. He looked down at his hand and was alarmed to see the skin on his fingers red and blistered.

He tried levering the staff from Faramir's hand with a stick but on contact with the wood, the stick burst into flames.

"What devilry is this? Saruman's I do not doubt."

Frodo's hand was wrenched from Faramir's as the man's body convulsed. Gimli could stand it no longer. What if his friend was dying? He rushed forward and threw himself on the ground next to the Elf, "Aragorn, can't you do something? What is wrong with him? What can we do?"

"Peace Gimli," Aragorn said calmly, "there is nothing you can do by panicking. Help Legolas hold him so he cannot hurt himself."

Gimli angrily blinked away the tears that blurred his vision while reaching forwards to place his large hand on Faramir's trembling shoulder. He was surprised when it landed on Legolas's slender hand which had been quicker, and both of them withdrew their hands at once.

Slightly embarrassed Gimli met the Elf's gaze and saw the same expression on his own face. United in their concern for their friend, they managed to restrain Faramir's body so that the convulsions passing through his body would not do him any harm.

Suddenly, Faramir's body went limp, a gentle, peaceful expression spreading over his tired face. Legolas and Gimli both sighed, relieved it was over, but Aragorn was less optimistic. He reached forwards for Faramir's pulse. Gimli realised what Aragorn could be thinking, there might have been another reason the convulsions had stopped.

Gimli held his breath for what seemed like minutes...

Faramir felt sick. His stomach was complaining and his head felt heavy. But he was back, back among his friends. Aragorn, Gimli... They were all there, staring at him as though he could disappear any second. He felt Frodo's warm hand slip into his own and breathed a quiet sigh.