Für Weh und Wunden
gab sie Balsam,
für böse Gifte
Gegengift.
Für tiefstes Weh,
für höchstes Leid
gab sie den Todestrank.
(For woes and wounds, she gave me salves, for evil poisons, antidotes, for deepest woe, for utmost grief, she gave me the drink of death.) Wagner – Tristan and Isolde

Tarostar frowned; “Why do you ask such a question?” he asked. “The juice should be used to ease pain, not to kill. I would not abet such treason against our liege lord whatever your motive might be!”

“I would never harm the King! How could you believe thus of me? However, what if I should be unmasked and put to torment? I hope I would have the strength to endure it. I fear, though I might somehow forced to betray the whereabouts of the Queen and my own wife and child. I need a means to ensure that does not happen! Maybe you have something more potent then, than the juice of poppies?”

“Do not ask such a thing!” Tarostar chided. “You are of pure enough Númenorean lineage to give back the Gift should dire need drive you to it. We keep no poisons in these Houses!”

“It could take hours to give up my own life, by which time, the Queen, the Crown Prince and my own wife and child could have been sent to their deaths by my weakness! I beg of you, kinsman, to provide me with something to ensure their safety.”

“I will return,” Tarostar turned and left the room without another word.

Faramir sighed, it seemed that he had offended his only available ally. Or worse still, had he made a mistake in trusting him? The more he thought now about his plan, the less likely it seemed to succeed. Pretending to be a traitor, discovering the King’s whereabouts and rescuing him; all without being caught, seemed a very difficult, if not impossible aim to achieve. Maybe, he should just try to discover the King’s whereabouts, make his escape and then return with soldiers, but by then would Aragorn have again disappeared? On the other hand, perhaps, he could just leave at the end of his visit and then rescue Aragorn later, or would they then move or kill him? Would they even let him leave once he knew their secrets? He was developing a headache now! The only thing he was certain of - was that he would gladly give his life to save his King. Aragorn would have done no less.

A few minutes later, Tarostar returned, clutching a vial in his hand. “The oaths I took, when I became a healer, prevent me from giving you anything to take life with,” he said. “But this should suffice as well, or better. Though, whether it might be more lethal as any opiate I cannot say.”

“What is it?” asked Faramir, intrigued.

“Spider venom. Thinking of your ability to return the Gift, which you could utilise if anything went wrong, made me think of it,” Tarostar told him.

“The same venom Shelob used to attack the Ring bearer?” Faramir asked.

“Yes, but with no permanent effects, or so I am told.” Tarostar explained, “Lord Legolas brought it some time ago from his homeland. He was thinking on developing a weapon, which would incapacitate rather than kill the enemy. A dart coated with this, would render the victim completely immobile for many hours. They would appear lifeless to any save the most skilled of healers. That is the theory; but whether the paralysis would wear off on its own, as it does when these spiders strike their victims, or whether it would permanently maim or kill, I do not know. I was going to research it, but the fever has left me little time. However, think carefully, I beg of you, Lord Faramir, you could be risking your life on a fool’s errand. If Gondor has lost her King, she has even more need of her Steward! Do not risk using it, save in the direst need! Are you certain you wish to take such a risk?”

Faramir reached out his hand for the vial. “I will take it, Master Tarostar, and I thank you,” he said, “I have already seemingly betrayed by King; the truth is; I would gladly risk my own death, and even if I had only the smallest chance to save him!”

Tarostar nodded his head resignedly. “Take it then! You administer it by coating a needle with a very tiny amount and piercing the skin. I beg of you though, do not use it unless there is no other way to spare innocent lives.”

“You have my word,” Faramir said gravely, looking the Healer in the eye as he spoke.

“Very well, then,” Tarostar sighed. ”I advise you to try to sleep until nightfall, Lord Faramir. I will come for you then. There are secret ways to leave the city from here. They are not too dusty either. We prepared them in case we had to leave in a hurry during the Ring War. Well, I must return to those who need me. There have been six new fever cases today already.”

Faramir sank back against the pillows then suddenly sat bolt upright again. “Weapons and tack for the horses!” he exclaimed, I forgot to pack any. I can take my sword and a concealed dagger or two to the Lord of Lamedon’s, but hardly a bow.”

Tarostar laughed. “We have a supply of everything you need here, as well as healing supplies! Living under the shadow of Mordor for so long, has made us prepared for anything. My wife and daughters even kept their valuables here during the War. I will place a bow with the other supplies.”

Faramir managed to smile at him. ”You are full of surprises, Master Healer!” he said, lying back to pretend to rest, in order to placate Tarostar. To his surprise, he quickly fell asleep. He dreamed again of Aragorn, the same nightmare in which the King was calling his name. He woke after only a few hours with an excruciating pain in his arm, just under the elbow. He bit his lip, not wanting any of the healers to be aroused and come to examine him. The now familiar red mark blemished his skin, which faded even as he looked.

He dozed again but was still tormented by nightmares. He felt relieved when Tarostar roused him a few hours later. “What time is it?” Faramir whispered.

“Almost midnight and you, my lord, should be asleep with a nasty ear infection like that!” Tarostar said loudly enough for any passers by to hear, before adding in an undertone. “Get dressed now and go quickly. Aedred is waiting to show you where the tunnel is. You can trust him. He is very loyal to King Éomer and to King Elessar too too. I will place a pillow in your bed to make it look as if you are still asleep. In the morning, I will make it known that I have given you a sleeping draught and you are not to be disturbed. Here are the herbs you wanted, keep them safe! Do you have the venom? Aedred has the rest of the supplies.”

Faramir nodded as sat on the side of the bed and pulled on his breeches under his nightshirt. He was never comfortable dressing or undressing in front of anyone else, even Healers. He always feared they would notice something to make them want to painfully poke and prod him again. He was all too aware, that his constant washing and scrubbing had left his skin red and raw, especially across his chest. He decided to pull on his tunic over the nightshirt and ignore the bulkiness of the garment.

Tarostar coughed pointedly, “I need that nightshirt to dress the pillow in!” he said.

Sighing, Faramir picked up his shirt, and with his back to Tarostar, pulled off the nightshirt, and swiftly donned his shirt and a thick woollen tunic over the top.

“How strange!” Even whispering, the surprise in the Healer’s voice was tangible.

“What is?” Faramir whispered in reply.

“Your back!”

“There is no more wrong with my back than my ears!” the Steward retorted.

“You were heavily scarred, I have never seen scars heal so well. There only seems to be some slight redness there now! I did not get a very good look though, if I may examine you more closely on the morrow?”

Faramir groaned, he had spent years trying to avoid letting anyone see the scars on his back.  Now it seemed that the lack of scars produced an identical result! “The King gave me an Elven remedy and there is nothing to see!” Faramir whispered with a tone of finality, which brokered no argument. He remembered some painful treatment sessions with Tarostar in the past. Despite being one of the most skilled Healers in Gondor, his methods had seemed both painful and primitive compared with Aragorn’s Elven skills.

Tarostar gave a low chuckle. “The means by which he persuaded you to try it would be even more interesting to hear about than the treatment. I seem to recall you shunned all the salves I gave you.”

“They stung like fire!” Faramir retorted, pulling on his boots. “I am ready to leave now,” he said.

“Drink your sleeping draught quickly! I bid you a peaceful night, Lord Faramir,” the Healer said loudly, then to the Steward’s surprise opened a door at the far side of the room, which Faramir had assumed led to a storage chamber.

“Through there,” Tarostar whispered, handing him his bundle, “May the Valar go with you!” He pressed a panel, just inside what appeared to be nothing but a closet for mops and brooms, to reveal a passageway.  Aedred was waiting at the entrance, his arms full of supplies. More bundles were at his feet.

“That is why we always accommodate members of the ruling family in this room, just in case they need to escape quickly,” Tarostar explained. The door swung closed behind him.

Torches, hung in sconces to the wall, lighted the passageway, which Aedred had obviously made ready. He beckoned Faramir to pick up the bundles and follow. He led the Steward though a narrow winding passageway carved out of solid rock, which sloped sharply downwards. They descended the City via a secret route, which must have been as ancient as Minas Tirith herself.