Ch. 4 - Sorrow Untold

The water was cold for this time of year and the boy before him shivered as the water reached his waist. He watched him from the shore, splashing and shrieking at the same time and started laughing himself. He pulled off his tunic and jumped into the river trying to get as close to the other boy as possible. After three or four steps, his foot found no purchase and his breath was stolen from him. He started to sink. Flailing his arms about, he found he had reached the surface. He gulped for air. Another quick breath and he felt himself going under again. He could not bring himself to the top, no matter how hard he pumped his arms and legs. He was going to drown.

A hand grabbed his wrist. He tried to fight the panic and let himself be taken. He closed his eyes, willing himself still. The hand pulled harder. His head broke the surface and he flung his eyes open. The other boy was there, pulling him up and pushing him towards the shore. He took three quick gulps as his heart started to calm. His feet felt the gooey mud of the bottom and settled into it. The other boy laughed, not letting his wrist go, and they staggered to the shore, the mud trying to hold them to the river.

A man waited for them. Waited on the shore. He could not see who it was; the sun was close to setting and blinded him. The boy started to shake. An arm rose in the air, sword blade shining in the sun, and slashed the other boy’s throat. Blood gushed into the Anduin as his rescuer fell into his arms, grey eyes open and blank, mouth agape.

Faramir looked down and screamed. “Boromir! Boromir! No! Please no! Do not leave me, Boromir!”

She held him in her arms, trying to contain the thrashing body. Tears poured from Faramir’s eyes, but he would not wake. He did not hear her. She sobbed between calling his name, “Faramir. ‘Tis I. ‘Tis Indis. All is well. You are safe.” But Faramir never heard, never stopped crying, thrashing and calling out Boromir’s name.

The healer knelt next to the bed, a cup of valerian tea in his hand. Ioreth was trying to spoon a little from the cup into Faramir’s mouth, but the child’s screams prevented most of it from doing any good. At last, after what seemed like an hour, enough of the tea was swallowed to settle the boy. Siriondil tried to lay the boy down, but Indis’ hold would not lessen.

“Indis!” he called quietly. “Indis, he rests. Put him down now. Let the bed comfort him.”

She stared at him as if he had lost his mind. “None can comfort him. None will ever be able to comfort him. He will fade and… and…” She could not speak, could not bring herself to say the words. Her chin quivered. “He will follow Boromir.”

The healer heard her teeth chattering from the anguish that racked her body; he forced a sip of the tea into her. She let herself swallow and then choked on it, realizing what it would do to her. “I cannot sleep. Not now. He needs me.”

“He needs to rest and he will get it now that he has some of the tea in him. I will not ask you to leave the room, but I ask you to sit in this chair, have a few more sips and sleep yourself. You are no good to Faramir in the state you are in now. If you sleep, you will be strong enough to help him when he wakes.”

Théodred stepped forward and knelt at her feet. “I will not leave him. As soon as he stirs, my Lady, I will wake you, I promise.” Tears ran freely down the lad’s face.

Indis looked down at the boy before her, trying to be strong and failing miserably. “I will do as you ask, Prince Théodred. I will trust you.” Her face contorted. “You will wake me?”

“I promise.” He stood and helped her from the bed to the chair. Ioreth brought over the tea while Siriondil examined Faramir.

“He did not hurt himself further?” she asked.

“Nay. He did not. I want to give him a little more of the tea and I want to see you drink some of it too.”

“Only a sip,” she said and took only one. Her head nodded, exhaustion pulling her eyelids closed as Ioreth removed the cup. The healer’s assistant covered her with an extra blanket, gathered the cups, pots, and herbs that the Master Healer was finished with, and quietly left the room.

Siriondil put his arm on Théodred’s shoulder. “I will expect, once the Lady Indis has rested, for you to go to my chambers and rest yourself. The oath will be forsaken if you die,” he said sternly.

Théodred looked at him, startled. “I promise,” he said hesitantly. “It has been some time since I rested. I will do as you ask.” Returning to his post at the end of Faramir’s bed, he crossed his arms again and stood at attention.

The healer smiled sadly at the sight before him. It took all his willpower not to sob himself. Such a broken hideous sight: the little boy, so grief-stricken that he could not function, lay as if dead on the bed; the gentle lady brought down by utter sorrow; and the young lad standing so still, every evidence of a broken heart etched in his too young face. Breathing a prayer to the Valar for surcease, he left the room.

Théodred sighed when the healer departed. Faramir had not had an episode like this in weeks. What could have caused it? He prayed that his friend was waking. Mayhap that is why his dreams, or whatever they were that tormented him, were so vivid. He looked upon the little body that lay before him and sobs shook him again. For Faramir, yes. But also for Boromir. He must find a way to assuage Faramir’s grief; he had promised Boromir he would take care of him. He was failing wretchedly.

A peregrine called. Théodred looked up, startled. It almost sounded like Boromir’s call, when they were in the wilds, hunting. The hawk called again and, this time Faramir stirred. ‘He must think it Boromir too,’ Theodred thought. ‘I must close the shutters. I do not want him thinking Boromir is here. It would break his heart to hope and have that hope dashed.’ Sobs shook him again as he walked to the windows. The sun was at its zenith. ‘Why are the birds about,’ he thought. ‘They should be hiding from the heat of the day.’