Chapter Twenty-Five - A Secret Between An Esquire And His Lord

“The noises have stopped,” Faramir whispered.

“That does not mean all is well.” Aragorn continued at the look of fear on the boy’s face, “but my brothers know how to care for themselves. They will return shortly.”

“I…” The boy blushed. “I need to… I must go…”

Aragorn looked at the child with pity. “You cannot leave the tree, not yet.”

Faramir bit his lip. “I will try to hold it.”

Tears formed in the little one’s eyes and Aragorn sighed. Some part of him knew the battle was over and that, indeed, his brothers were well. However, he could not imagine himself getting down from this tree safely, never mind with any dignity. The tears fell a little faster. “Think you that you can climb down yourself?”

The boy nodded. “I think so.”

“Good. Stay right at the bottom; do not go any further. I will close my eyes.”

Nodding with a sigh, Faramir climbed over Aragorn and grasped the limb next to him. He wrapped his legs as far around the trunk as they would go and lowered himself to the next limb. After a moment’s hesitation, he clambered a bit further down, to the next limb and then the next. There he stopped. “I cannot go further. The limb is too far for me to reach.”

Aragorn looked about him. There was naught he could do but go down and help the lad. “Wait a moment. I will be there.”

“But you are hurt,” the boy protested. “I will wait.”

“It will take me a few moments, but I will join you. Just hold on tight.” He smiled at the innuendo. Concentrating on keeping his weight off his injured foot, he slowly lowered himself to the next limb. It was fairly simple. As he held on to that one, he put out his good leg and lowered further. By now, he was on the limb above Faramir. He had to stop for the low pain in his foot now traveled up his leg. He grimaced, took a deep breath, and moved once again down to the next limb. “Take my hand and let yourself down. It is not as far as it looks.”

The boy nodded, swallowed, and took Aragorn’s hand. After a moment looking down, Faramir lowered himself, while tightly gripping the Ranger’s hand. “I made it. I am on the last limb. I think I can jump from here.”

“Do not close your eyes…”

“Ouch!”

“Are you all right? Faramir, answer me!” A small groan was the only answer he received. “Faramir!” he whispered as loudly as he dared.

“I twisted my ankle a little. It does not hurt much. Close your eyes.”

Aragorn had to stifle a laugh. ‘Good lad,’ he thought warmly.

At that very moment, a full company of men came through the forest, calling out Faramir’s name. The lad looked up at Aragorn in concern.

“Be still. Remember our secret, my Lord Steward,” Aragorn whispered. “These men will take you to your aunt. I would have given you a message for her, but it is too late now. Remember this also, Faramir. You are to meet me at Morwen’s family farm on Ethuil. You will stay with me for three months. Bring your sword, shield, and mail.” He heard a familiar voice and stopped. “My brothers are come; listen to their words, vouch for them, Faramir. They must be allowed to leave without guard or escort. Else I will be left here alone.”

“I will not let them leave without you and no one, I promise, will know of your presence here.” The boy looked away from the tree and whispered, “Thank you, Strider. Thank you ever so much. I am in your debt forever.”

The boy was in tears again and Aragorn’s heart clenched at the expression of heartfelt gratitude. “Be well, my Steward. I will see you soon,” he whispered back. “If you ever need me, send a rider to the Mering. The message will reach me, I promise.”

“Lord Faramir!” Borondir’s voice rang out loudly. “Faramir, my lad. Come to me. Are you hurt?”

The boy hobbled to Borondir’s side. “I am sorry I left you. I fell in the river. I could not get out. I tried to shout but no one heard me.” He stopped in shock. “You are hurt! What happened?”

“An Orc tried to take me, but found me too old and bitter for his taste.”

Faramir smiled. “That is not true. You are not old, just battle-worn.”

Borondir put back his head and laughed. “You are a sight to see, young Faramir. Again, you bring laughter to my heart. I am very glad to see you. But tell me, you are hobbling yourself. What have you done?”

“I just now tripped as I climbed…” He bit his lip. “As I climbed over a root,” he pointed to a tree opposite the one Aragorn sat in. “Something like that one there.”

Borondir stared at the tree. “I see. Well, we had two Elves who helped us in the battle, but they seem to have disappeared. Have you seen Elves about, Faramir?”

“I did. They helped me, fed me, and were bringing me to Osgiliath, to my aunt.”

“Then we need not fear them, I suppose. They tended my wounds and the wounds of my men. But it is not good to have strangers on Gondor’s soil. Well, that cannot now be helped. I will not send my men after them. You vouch for them?” At Faramir’s nod, the captain continued, “Sit on my lap. This litter is not very comfortable, but it will take us nicely to the Regent, or at least to Osgiliath. There are so many people waiting for you, worrying about you. Targon will be most anxious to hear your tale. Mayhap you will even have to write a song about it.”

Faramir looked at the man in alarm. “I have never written a song.”

“Then it is about time you tried your hand at it, for the men of Gondor are known for their song. In fact, I think now would be just about the time for a song of rejoicing. What say you, Valanestel?”

“Yes. It is time for a song and perhaps some food?”

“I am not hungry. We ate a while ago. If you want to continue, you do not have to stop on my account.”

“My Lord Steward, that is kind of you. I would like to press on. It will be another day, at least, before we reach Osgiliath. Every day has been difficult for the Regent. I would have you to her as quickly as possible.”

“Then, Captain Borondir, I suggest we get underway?”

Borondir laughed again. “It will be as you order, my Lord.”

Faramir smiled. The men took up Borondir’s litter and began walking northward, their voices raised in song.

Winter’s here but all is well

The crops are in, the grain’ries swell

And I my love will kiss and tell her

Of the coming spring.

The coming spring will bring delights

Green fields, friends and longer nights

But that is not within our sights

We must await that day.

Await that day of green and gold

And lively stories that enfold

Our hearts and speaks of love untold

In the coming spring.

~*~

A/N - 1) Ethuil is the Sindarin word for the Spring Festival day. http://lostworldofennor.angelcities.com/time.htm#Men

2) Since Denethor is dead and it is long before the time he made the law about strangers on Gondor’s land, there is no edict for Borondir to break. He is within his right to let the Elves go, even though they have already slipped through his fingers.