Disclaimer: LOTR belongs to the creative genius of JRR Tolkien, not me.

From the Shadows.

Chapter 2.

Faramir knew that Boromir had always been content with his duty as a soldier of the city, but the Steward’s younger son loved the freedom afforded a ranger to wander among the soothing presence of the ancient trees of Ithilien. Often when on patrol he would take the early morning watch just to enjoy the cool, crisp and often misty air and the shroud of silence and peace that had descended during the night and remained until it was slowly lifted by the warmth of the rising sun

Faramir watched the play of light and shadows, caused by the leaves overhead dancing in the breeze, which chased each other across the forest floor, and were it not for the eerie strangeness of the place that made the hairs on his neck stand on end, the ranger could almost believe he was walking through the forest of Ithilien that he knew so well. Almost that is, except that his night had been anything but tranquil and the unsettling feeling that eyes unseen were watching him had not left him, even as he moved further away from Amon Hen.

It was barely dawn this day as he made his way towards the steep descent of the North Stair. Rather than ride to Amon Hen, Faramir had travelled by river as far as the base of the Falls of Rauros and then continued on foot. It had been an arduous climb and he hoped the way down would be easier.

Several times he felt his skin crawl, alerting his ranger senses to a presence nearby and he would stop suddenly and turn to look behind, only to find no one there. It was most disconcerting, and unnerving when he began to feel as if the ghosts did not want him to leave, that he imagined he could hear the trees whispering his name. That thought only served to make him more apprehensive and realising the danger his lack of concentration may place him in if in fact he was being followed, Faramir convinced himself he was thinking nothing but nonsense.

So preoccupied was Faramir with his internal dilemma that he failed to notice that the air had become increasingly thick and close and low, grey storm clouds, heavy with rain had rolled quickly in, blocking the sun. False night fell on the forest, the darkness occasionally illuminated by blue white flashes of lightning, the loud claps of thunder that followed drowning out the rustling of wind whipped leaves.

Scowling at the sudden change in weather and the need to find some protection from the drenching he knew he would receive if he stayed out in the open, Faramir began a quick search for shelter. The need hastened even further when the first large drops of rain began to fall, but knowing nothing of the terrain, he had little hope of finding anywhere dry and none a moment later when the skies opened and he was engulfed in the deluge.

When the next flash of lightning illuminated a small hollow in the trunk of a large tree up ahead, Faramir ran gratefully towards it. Blinded by the water that was dripping from his wet hair into his eyes, he did not see the protruding root until he tripped over it. Then he saw nothing, knocking himself unconscious when he fell heavily to the ground, hitting his head on a rock.

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Faramir felt something soft and wet resting on his brow and without opening his eyes, he reached up to find someone had placed a damp cloth over the large lump on his forehead that was throbbing with a dull ache. So, he was in the House of Healing, he decided after feeling the pillow beneath his head, the dry clothes and warm blankets that covered his body. Aragorn must have sent a patrol to search for him, he thought, his confused state of mind not questioning why he would assume that since he was not expected back in Minas Tirith for at least another week.

Thinking to see the friendly faces of the Healers he had come to know so well during his recovery from the injuries inflicted by Denethor’s insanity, Faramir slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the bright light of day and immediately regretting doing so when his headache worsened. In fact his whole body ached, especially his bandaged right ankle. He tried successfully to move it a little, relieved that it was just a sprain, not a break that he had suffered.

“Ai, I will draw the curtains so the light does not hurt your eyes,” he heard a soft, almost musical voice close by say. The slight movement of air indicated the healer had stepped away and when the room darkened enough for him to comfortably open his eyes, Faramir was astonished to find himself looking directly into the ageless eyes of Legolas… no, not Legolas, the Steward thought, quickly realising his mistake. This Elf’s hair colour was more silver than gold and his face, although very fair, was less so than that of his friend. Faramir was momentarily lost for words and could do nothing but stare in disbelief at his benefactor.

“Many thanks you for rescuing me from the storm. I am Faramir, may I ask your name?” Faramir managed to ask when his astonishment faded enough to speak.

“You are most welcome. I am called Haldir. Drink this, it will ease your pain,” Haldir said kindly as he snaked an arm around Faramir’s shoulders and helped him to sit up in the bed.

‘Thank you,” he replied, many questions still filling his very confused mind.

Expecting to find the taste of the potion in the cup that was held to his lips to be foul, Faramir was surprised to find that is was in fact pleasantly sweet. After a few minutes the pain in his head lessened and he began to be able to think a little more clearly. He most certainly was not in the Houses of Healing, so where was he, how did he come to be here and who was this Elf?

“Your questions will be answered in time,” Haldir commented with a mysterious smile that made Faramir wonder if he had somehow heard his thoughts. “Do you feel like eating? Perhaps some soup and bread?”

“Aye, I would like that,” Faramir replied, the mention of food making him realise how hungry he felt. Questions and answers could wait a little longer.

“I will return in a few minutes,” Haldir said, leaving the door slightly ajar enabling Faramir to see the canopy of leafy branches and the sky visible not far above.

“This must be a talan, in the forest near Amon Hen,” he decided, voicing his thoughts just as the Elf returned from the kitchen.

“Aye, you are most observant,” Haldir replied as he placed the meal tray he carried on the table beside the bed.

“I did not know there were Elves in this forest. How long have you lived here? Are you alone?” Faramir enquired, unable to curb his curiosity as he waited for the steaming mug of soup to cool a little

“Not long, even as time is measured by Elves, and nay, I am not alone. You will meet the others at the evening meal.” Another mysterious answer caused Faramir to frown at the less than informative response. He was inclined to question Haldir further but his injured body was beginning to tire and it took all his remaining energy just to finish his soup. He felt a feather light touch on his brow and suddenly felt very drowsy.

“Sleep now, “ Haldir whispered. Faramir closed his eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Closing the door quietly as he left, Haldir made his way along the tree branches to the talan where the others waited, one impatiently, for news. This one breathed a sigh of relief when the Elf offered a reassuring smile.

“Faramir is not seriously injured, ‘tis but a sprained ankle and a slight concussion that he suffers. Fear not, Boromir, your brother will be well in a few days.”