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What Damrod Knew
Warning – This chapter contains content, which although not explicit in nature, some readers may find disturbing.
With special thanks to Raksha for her help with editing this chapter.
The Guards fetched Aragorn a bowl of steaming water, the temperature of which he tested with his elbow. Once satisfied it was the right warmth, he began bathing his Steward with a clean cloth.
He knew it was Faramir’s body that needed urgent warming, yet felt compelled to first cleanse the mud from his face. A task, which took but a moment, yet served to restore some vestiges of dignity to the unconscious man.
Nodding to Damrod to assist him, he continued to bathe Faramir with the warm water, all the while working under the blanket to preserve warmth and modesty.
“Damrod, you mentioned that Lord Faramir once ordered a flogging. Can you tell me what you know about it?” Aragorn enquired.
The Ranger looked puzzled at the question, but obediently answered. “It was a very unpleasant incident, which took place about a week before the fall of Osgiliath. We were in a high state of alert and everyone was on edge. Night had fallen and those not on duty were trying to rest. I was wrapped in my blanket alongside Captain Faramir. I remember how relieved I felt that he was finally sleeping after he had driven himself so hard. Suddenly, we heard screaming and rushed to see what was happening and found one of our men in the process of committing rape.”
Continuing his task, Aragorn listened intently, heart beating faster in anger.
“Captain Faramir was furious! He ordered the attacker to be bound and kept under guard while he decided what to do. We returned to our bedrolls and discussed what had happened. The Captain thought the man deserved death but was loath to pronounce such a verdict without a proper trial in the City. The situation at that time made it impossible to take a prisoner back without endangering our defences. I could see he was very distressed about what had happened.”
The King nodded his understanding and bade Damrod continue.
“The next morning Lord Faramir sat in judgement and pronounced a sentence of twenty-five lashes, the maximum allowed by law, followed by instant dismissal from our ranks and then forced duty with the City's work gang until the War ended. The sentence was carried out immediately and the cowardly wretch took it very badly, screaming and pleading for mercy. But the Captain was adamant, telling him that he should have thought of that before carrying out his wicked crime.”
“He acted correctly,” Aragorn commented.
"One of the sergeants did the whipping. The Captain watched to see it done correctly, though he could have asked one of the lieutenants to watch instead. I shall never forget the expression on his face! It was the first time he had ever needed to order such a harsh punishment. None of the rangers had ever done anything worse than drink a little too much then oversleep, or some other minor infringement of regulations. Usually, knowing we had let our Captain down and seeing the reproach in his eyes, was a greater punishment than the extra duties we were given. We all revered him so much.”
Damrod paused, finding it difficult to recall such dreadful events within his own Company.
“Then what happened?” Aragorn prompted.
“When it was over,” Damrod continued, taking a deep breath, “the Captain walked away and I followed, for he had turned pale as a ghost. I supported him when he almost collapsed and was violently sick. Poor Lord Faramir, I don’t think he ever dreamed such a thing could happen within his Rangers. Although he was a good soldier, he truly hated violence. We Rangers had always trusted each other; but I suppose every barrel has a rotten apple somewhere.”
“What was the man’s name?” Aragorn asked in a low, chill voice.
“He was called Mahrod,” Damrod replied, “As he left, he vowed he would have his revenge for his punishment.” He flushed, wondering if he had said too much, but Aragorn had somehow made him with those compelling eyes of his, recall every painful detail.
Aragorn sighed. All the pieces fell into place. He even now remembered Faramir mentioning the incident while they had been at the Hunting Lodge eight months previously. “What happened to the victim?” he enquired.
“They died during the War, which was maybe as well for who could live with such shame despite all Captain Faramir’s kindness and sympathy?” Damrod replied sadly. “That is all I know, your majesty, maybe Captain -er- Lord Faramir recalls more of the incident?”
“Thank you,” Aragorn said at last, “I might need your testimony at Mahrod’s forthcoming trial. It was he who attacked Lord Faramir in prison.”
“Gladly, sire, that man is truly evil!” Damrod looked shocked at this latest news. He cast a horrified glance at Faramir’s damaged body.
Aragorn sighed. "Indeed," he said quietly. Rage and disgust burned with him at the very mention of Mahrod's name. He needed to focus on saving Faramir now; he would not see his friend go the way of his tormentor's earlier victim. “I need some more warm water,” Aragorn ordered, “I wish you to bathe Lord Faramir’s limbs.”
Aragorn applied warm compresses to Faramir’s neck, chest and groin, while Damrod bathed the Steward’s mud-smeared arms and legs.
“We dry him now!” Aragorn said after a few minutes, casting the damp cloths to one side and wondering how best next to proceed.” You work on his limbs and I will dry his body. Do it as vigorously as you can without aggravating his injuries.”
A trace of colour returned to Faramir’s paled skin; and his breathing deepened, much to Aragorn’s relief. Yet Faramir’s lips still bore a bluish tinge. Despite Aragorn's efforts to be gentle, the towelling seemed to jar the sick man's injuries, causing Faramir to moan and slightly stir.
Finally, Faramir started to shiver violently, a good sign that he was slowly recovering normal body heat.
Aragorn pressed his ear to his Steward's chest again. He rejoiced to hear a somewhat stronger heartbeat; though it still resembled a trapped bird trying to escape from its cage.
Should Faramir be kept wrapped in blankets and held by both men to keep him warm? Since Faramir was regaining warmth, Aragorn decided to dress Faramir with Damrod's help, and hold him alone until his friend awakened. Such a course of action would be the least distressing to Faramir, given his recent horror at the prospect of even removing his shirt.
Taking some clothes from the packs, Aragorn placed them by the fire to air. Then, with Damrod’s assistance, he dressed Faramir in the warm dry raiment.
Once the Steward was dressed, the King could only now wait for his friend to regain consciousness.
“My thanks for your help, Damrod” he said, giving the young man a kind smile. “I pray you, send a messenger back to the City, so the Queen may be informed that Lord Faramir has been found alive. I bid you then to take rest and food with your comrades. I will call you again when I have need of you.”
After Damrod left, Aragorn quickly shed his mud-stained clothes and donned a simple linen shirt and woollen breeches. Then he settled himself on the pelts by the fire, cradling Faramir in his arms to warm and comfort him
Faramir moaned and nestled his head against the King’s shoulder, which heartened Aragorn. Though ill and unconscious, his Steward still trusted him enough to seek the comfort of his presence.
Aragorn feared that his friend had little cause to trust him, after all that Faramir had suffered as result of the King’s thoughtlessness. Yet, the words of his letter had given Aragorn hope that the Steward still felt some affection towards him.
Gradually, Faramir settled into what appeared to be a natural sleep and when Aragorn checked his temperature again, it appeared to be almost back to normal. He vigorously chafed the cold hands between his own warm ones.
The King then decided to wake him.“Faramir!” he called softly, gently shaking him, “It is I, Aragorn, wake up!”
Faramir groaned and opened his eyes. It took him a few minutes to focus, before he asked,” Where am I? So cold!” His teeth chattered as he spoke.
“In a hovel near Osgiliath. You fell from your horse.”
“I am still alive!” Faramir exclaimed with a look of abject misery. Already he was trying to pull away from the King.
“Yes, the Valar be praised! Whatever would I do without you, and what about Éowyn? Why ever did you go off like that?”
“To put things right! You would be better off without me. Everything would be well again, if I were gone! You have your wife and son and Éowyn has her brother.”
“We both need you too.” Aragorn said as he gently laid Faramir down on the bedroll. He went to the hearth where water was boiling to make tea.
He held a steaming cup to Faramir’s lips. “Drink this; it is just tea to warm you! No, you are mistaken there, my friend, a good many people need you as does Gondor herself!”
Faramir drank the tea in silence, swallowing without complaint. A little more colour returned to his cheeks, giving Aragorn hope that his friend was no longer in immediate danger of succumbing to his physical injuries. Faramir's aching heart was another matter. The twisted ankle was something of a relief, since it would not allow the Steward to flee again.
“Why did you come after me, sire?” Faramir asked, his tone bitter.
“Because I love you too much to ever abandon you, my poor foolish friend! I could not bear to see your wife suffer and I care about the welfare of Gondor! How could I forsake you, when you are as dear to me as my own son? Did you want to break all of our hearts?”
Faramir fixed large sad eyes upon his King. “You do not know me!” he whispered, “I am tainted and maimed, a curse to you and to Gondor!”
Aragorn poured himself a cup of tea and knelt beside his Steward looking into the dull, pain filled eyes. He could weep for the shadow of a man that Faramir had become.
“Tell me, Faramir, have you ever used the gift of our race to share thought? “ he asked, in an abrupt change of subject, while he slowly sipped his drink.
“I tried with Boromir, but he lacked the ability. My father had the gift but said he would never share anything so intimate with a worthless younger son. I had hoped to be able to share thoughts one day with my child, but it is too late now.”
Faramir’s bleak, dry acceptance tore at Aragorn’s heart.
“Why do you ask, my lord?” The flickering firelight illuminated the pain and confusion on Faramir's features. “ Why do you kneel? You should not approach one as tainted as I!”
Aragorn put down his cup and gripped Faramir’s hands with his own then looked directly into the haunted eyes. “Why do you feel tainted?” he asked,” I desire to know!”
“I am a traitor!” Faramir mumbled trying to break free of Aragorn’s grasp. Remembering Arwen’s words, the King refused to let go.
“I have told you are not, more than once, and how could that taint me even if it were true? In my ninety years I have met all manner of people and none left me feeling tainted. Why then should you? You are a good man and very dear to me. There is something else that troubles you and I want to know what it is!”
“It is nothing, my lord, I cannot speak of it. I beg of you not to touch me!”
“You can tell me!” Aragorn still held his hands tightly, though careful not to press hard enough to injure his Steward. “What has changed so much? You let me tend your hurts many times, you enjoyed the Elven massage treatments and more than that, you were glad to embrace me as a brother! You said in your letter that you still bore me some affection! Why then, must I not touch you, even to mend your wounds? Tell me! I am not letting you go until you do!”
“I cannot! The shame is too great!” Having spent what little strength he had, Faramir slumped forward. Wearied almost beyond endurance, he would have collapsed if not for Aragorn's firm hold.
“Was it something to do with Mahrod?” It was cruel to press him in this condition. Yet Aragorn had to know the truth if he was to save the life that Faramir was determined to throw away.
“Yes,” the whispered word was barely audible. "I think that he…” Faramir swallowed, unable to continue.
TBC