Faramir Fiction Archive

For your sake Badur (NC-17)

Written by Nerey Camille

20 February 2013 | 19253 words

Chapter 4. Time for choices

Indeed, he had very serious matters to ponder. For one thing, he had endangered his mission to save Badur, and he would soon have to face Denethor’s wrath. His father would not be pleased that he had taken any risk to save even an old friend, and he would be further angered by his decision to get away from the Rangers with Badur instead of resuming duties right away. The reasons for this decision would certainly not be acceptable to Denethor. Yes, he was in serious trouble – he was forsaking his duty and that alone was high treason.

Not that he cared as far as he was concerned. That was the worst of it. He was consciously disregarding his obligations for the first time in his life and he didn’t care. That, if nothing else, showed how deeply the events of last night had affected him, and now, now that all immediate worries seemed out of the way, now that they were provisionally safe and that his chief concern that he might have destroyed Badur was relatively assuaged… now the full horror of his actions hit him with the force of a hurricane.

What have I done?

Memories came at him in waves. Badur’s hardened face. Badur’s stare of horror. Badur’s yells of pain. Gloating faces all around them. His own laugh echoing scornful words.

Nauseating. It was nauseating. But you were not sick.

Swift and tempting, the desire to kill himself. It would be just. And merciful.

But it was cowardly, and the seed of hope that always inhabited the deepest deeps of his heart woke and asserted itself. Not yet, not until it is certain that I am beyond healing. It is too recent, give it time.

And with it came the tears, and Faramir sank to the ground, hiding his face between his hands.

I thought I had no innocence left. I didn’t think after all these years, I could still be shaken so utterly. Is there anything still standing in all this wreckage?

Yet crises have happened to me in the past. And I have always recovered.

Let’s hope. I have saved her, thankfully. And I still have my conscience to guide me – even if I feel like it failed me completely last night. And there are others – to whom I may turn for comfort and advice. Tonight, I will call them.

The sun hit the end of the cavern, waking Badur up. Refreshed, she went out and saw Faramir heating the leftovers of their lunch. He turned to her as she drew near.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, looking her up and down.

“Still a bit sore, but fine,” she said. “And you?”

“I can stand it,” he said, smiling, but it was a sad smile, one that Badur understood to mean “I can stand it because it is nothing compared to the mental agony I suffer”.

“This is almost ready,” he added, gesturing towards a stone she could sit on. She nodded, realizing that she was again terribly hungry, and she sat on the stone, looking around curiously as she waited.

“What is this place?” she asked, smiling gratefully as he handed her a piece of rabbit.

“It is a refuge for the Rangers, the force that we keep in Ithilien to watch the hosts of the Enemy,” he said. After a pause, he added, “I’ve been their captain for the past two years.”

She nodded, thinking that he didn’t seem happy or proud at all with the assignment.

“This is very small, though. Barely enough for three or four people,” she remarked.

“That’s right. It is not a gathering place, only a shelter such as we keep for Rangers on solitary missions to rest on the way, or for some wounded straggler to stop and hide in. There are many in Ithilien, some even smaller than this.”

“Are we safe here?”

“Oh, yes. The servants of the Enemy do not know the place, and even if they did, they still believe I am their ally. As for the Rangers, I have forbidden them to come here.”

His tone, even more than his words, shocked Badur. There was definitely something in Faramir’s attitude that didn’t bode well, she thought. Faramir perceived her intent gaze and offered an explanation.

“My intention when I carried you out unconscious was to take you to the Rangers’ headquarters. But the moment I stopped to get some rest and examine you, I realized I needed to make sure that you would be all right, not only physically but emotionally. I wanted to convince you that I had meant no harm, if that was possible, and I could not do so with witnesses and all the business of a camp. There were other reasons, as well. Anyway, I left a message that I would be away a couple of days and told them not to look for us.”

She pondered his words, wondering what those other reasons might be, but sensing that he wouldn’t tell.

“Well,” she said finally, in answer to the purpose he had mentioned. “I do believe you. Although there is still much that I don’t understand.”

“Go ahead,” he smiled.

“Why did you say all those horrible things about… about you deceiving me in Harad to enjoy my body?”

“I told you already, I needed to break your resistance. The Orcs wouldn’t be content until you were whimpering and crying. I didn’t want to manage it through wounding you physically. I told you the most hurting and painful things I could think of.” He paused, then added softly. “Nothing less would have served. I knew you were very brave. I knew it the moment I saw you in the cavern, that you would never admit defeat before I had inflicted severe and permanent injury on you.” He paused again, then said, “I am very sorry.”

“Thank you,” she said, hesitatingly.

He shook his head.

“About the pinching… I am very sorry, too, to have inflicted such great pain on you. It must have been terrible. But I was trying not to damage you permanently.”

“Why… didn’t you rape me, as you were instructed?”

He laughed.

“Do you really think that I could have had an erection when I was worrying for our lives and feeling awful for how I was treating you?”

She looked at him shrewdly.

“As a matter of fact, I think I could have,” he admitted. “I just decided not to do it.”

“Why?”

“Need you to ask?” he said, and she knew she would have to be content with that answer.

“I still can’t believe you had the guts to do all that”, she said, a bit resentfully.

“It had to be done, Badur. Your life was at stake.”

She could find no answer to that, and they ended the meal in silence. Faramir then prepared to sleep outside, and when she asked him what on earth he was doing, he looked at her sadly.

“Do I need to explain the obvious? I can see you haven’t forgiven me yet. While that is so, it would be inexcusable of me to be any nearer you than can be helped… especially when you are resting.”

Badur felt all her resentment dissolving and tears starting to form behind her eyes. In a voice that was steady but much moved nonetheless, she said:

“I appreciate your regard, Faramir, but this is not necessary. I trust you.”

“Are you sure?” he asked uncertainly.

“Yes. Now do come and sleep in the cavern.”

He smiled shyly; his eyes betrayed how much this permission meant to him. Not for the first time, Badur thought that he was in more need of comfort than her. Faramir hesitated for a moment, then covered the fire, hoping that his fleeting but intense desire to hug her had not appeared too obvious. He didn’t know that, as they lay next to each other and tried to find sleep, he was not the only one to miss the warmth of mutual tenderness.

Badur woke up to glimpse Faramir quietly slipping out. She thought he might have gone for a pee or to check for any threats outside, but when he didn’t come back for a long while, she started to worry. Finally, she wrapped herself in the blanket and padded out as softly as she could.

Faramir was kneeling under the waning moon, speaking in low murmurs to someone she couldn’t see, perhaps to himself. She stopped at a respectful distance and gazed at him, transfixed. There was something incredibly beautiful and sad to his tall, lean shape, to his head slightly bowed in the peaceful night, unsuspecting, absorbed. Time passed unheeded, only marked by stars slowly revolving towards the West over their heads. Badur was startled when Faramir suddenly stood up, turned, and saw her gazing at him.

“Sorry to intrude,” she said quickly. “I woke up and was worried about you, and when I saw you there, I just couldn’t stop looking at you. You were speaking to someone, weren’t you?”

“My old friend Gandalf,” he nodded. “And someone else, too.”

“Won’t you tell me what is torturing you?” The words came out, thoughtless and eager, before she even knew it. She then scolded herself for not minding her own business, but Faramir only smiled.

“You will get cold before I finish. Let’s make some fire.”

Surprised that he should be ready to explain, she helped him, and when the flames were burning cosily between them, she looked at him expectantly and he looked back, gathering his thoughts.

“To understand what happened to me last night,” he started, “perhaps you ought to know what these last years have been like for me. When I came back from Harad, I was sent almost right away to train with different corps of the army, for two years, and was finally assigned to the Rangers, who were then commanded by my brother. Under his strict but kind rule I learned the ropes, became a good officer, and finally, when two years ago he was appointed Captain-General, I replaced him as head of the Rangers, the most perilous outpost and one that requires keen mastery of arms and ambushes. My brother was not happy to leave, for he knew that as a general commander he would spend much more time at a desk and less on the field, and because we didn’t want to be parted, but that was not for us to decide. When I was appointed, my father, aware of my diplomatic abilities (something for which my brother was never renowned), decided that in addition to my job I should become a spy, pretending to be officer Herumor, the advisor and second-in-command to the Steward’s son who was not often on the grounds. I strongly disliked getting in contact with Orcs, deceiving them and having to put up with their foul ways, but a soldier’s job is not supposed to be pleasant; this was certainly instructive and useful work, and how could I expect men to do a job that I found too dirty for myself? But if I had had my way, I would not have done it. Still, if I was ready to kill Orcs and even other Men who had done nothing to me but serve the opposite side, wasn’t it ridiculous to feel remorse about deceiving them? Anyway, I put up with the job until last night. Then you arrived, and I tortured you, I tortured someone who was not my enemy, who trusted me, who had done me nothing but good – actually more good than anyone has done me, save perhaps my brother. I know why I did it, I know that you are grateful, and believe me, it is a relief beyond words that I could explain things to you and that the damage, it seems, is as small as it could be under the circumstances; nonetheless, when I look at the memory of it, I experience a bottomless horror at my actions, I feel… sullied. And that – that raises a lot of questions that I cannot let pass unheeded.”

“Such as?”

“Such as, where does this stop? I never imagined that given the choice, I could ever do something like this. But I did, of my own free will; nobody forced me. Oh, yes, it was the best choice I had. So what? That only means that someone could constrain me to become the accomplice of a group of Orcs, to join in what they do, to do worse maybe, in future. And I wonder, where does this path lead? What would I be prepared to do, given the proper circumstances? Would I rape my own brother for the sake of Gondor’s victory? That makes no sense. I thought as a Ranger my job was to protect my people against Sauron’s cruelty, because we were different; not to become as one of the Enemy’s servants or even worse.”

“Maybe you are taking it too seriously,” offered Badur, tentatively. “You are still different from an Orc. They would have killed me, and they would certainly not have cared about damaging me.”

“Yes, Badur, but again: where does it stop? What does the intention matter, if the actions are the same? And if I had done the right thing, why should I be feeling like this? I never felt any remorse when I killed enemies, not even when I sent my men to death. No, whenever I did the right thing, I felt at peace with myself. From the way I feel, this was terribly, terribly wrong.”

“But what would have been the right choice?”

“I’m not saying that the mistake was to save you. But if that action in itself was correct, maybe that means the error was somewhere along the way that led to this, to the point where I had no other choice. I can only think that I went wrong somewhere before. I don’t know how, or why, or where, but I must find out. Otherwise it would mean that you can do everything right and then feel like this! No, it can’t be. That would be too terrible.”

She looked at him, at a loss for words. Finally she stretched out her hand, he put his hand in hers and she squeezed it.

“This is what it is all about, isn’t it? Those other reasons to come here you mentioned.”

He sighed.

“Indeed. I have to think about what to do now. As well, last night I put my identity at risk of being discovered, so I will have to report to my father.”

“You mean when I revealed your true name,” realized Badur, her eyes widening in consternation.

“That also, but chiefly I had to pay a ransom for you, and I gave the Orc leader an object of value that might enable them to identify me.”

“What did you give him?”

She was surprised to see his face contract in pain.

“It was… a personal belonging. I grieve that the Orcs should have it; I’d rather spare them a quarter of my blood.”

She gazed at him, aghast. She had not imagined such a situation. She knew Denethor by reputation, and knew that Faramir’s relationship with him had never been good.

“… And I guess you are disobeying further by bringing me here.”

“Not any point in doing things halfway, is there?”

They sat looking at each other in silence, until they both smiled and then Faramir started to laugh softly, and so did Badur, until they were both roaring with laughter. Finally Badur regained some composure, wiping tears from her eyes.

“What a mess. You are completely mad.”

“I know,” he said. “Come on, let’s go back to sleep.”

At the entrance of the cavern she stopped.

“I am so glad to be here with you, though.” She touched his cheek lightly, and they hugged as old friends. Faramir pressed his face against her dark hair.

“So am I.”

They spent most of the next day resting, giving time to their wounds to get healed, barely speaking to each other but reveling in one another’s company. They went out for some game, and then made the meal together; though none of them would acknowledge it even to themselves, they both were eager to spend as much time as possible with each other, and they still enjoyed doing any activity together, were it skillful partnership in obtaining food or sitting in silence, each musing their own private thoughts. Knowing that Faramir had some very important decisions to make, Badur was careful not to disturb him; besides, she had her own thinking to do about her future, which was still uncertain to say the least but at least was not in any immediate danger of coming to a sudden and painful end.

Faramir observed her covertly, and noticed she seemed in good health and spirits, not overly affected by what had happened and apparently not resentful any more, though he suspected that a well of anger must survive somewhere deep inside her. For her part, Badur was also watching Faramir closely. She perceived that he was more at peace than the previous day, and that his attitude towards her was as friendly as it had ever been. But otherwise he seemed to take little notice of her. So little, in fact, that she attributed his concern for her to his gentle character rather than to the feelings she knew he had once harboured for her.

A good thing I’ve become adept at coping with disappointment. This one might have been hard to deal with.

Sunset had almost come when Faramir’s voice interrupted her reverie.

“I’m done with my thinking,” he said, sitting in front of her.

“Tomorrow I shall head for the Rangers’ quarters, and from there to Minas Tirith. There I will have to tell my father that I shall not spy for Gondor again.”

Badur whistled. As a warrior, she well knew the significance of that statement. Mutiny.

“What will you do if he does not… agree?”

“My chief concern is you. I cannot guarantee you a safe haven in Gondor, for he’ll be wroth at me, and will likely blame you for my lawless action. Nonetheless, I will not lie to him. And I promise to protect you to the best of my ability, if your last experience in that respect hasn’t deprived you of all confidence in me,” he said wryly.

“I will go with you,” she said without hesitation. “If your father forgives you, Gondor will be the safest place I can dream of. If not, I cannot leave you to face trouble alone.”

“I know you mean it, despite your jesting tone,” said Faramir, taking her hands. The tenderness of the gesture made Badur’s heart beat faster. She spoke on impulse.

“I’ve been wondering about something… you gave the Orcs a possession so valuable you wouldn’t tell me what it was…”

“You really want to know? My mother’s portrait. It was a precious jewel, the only one I had from her, the only one that never left me.”

Badur was stunned speechless. She had seen the jewel when he was in Harad, she knew his devotion to his mother and that she had died when he was five… and that Denethor had suppressed every other reminder of her.

“Oh, Faramir…”

“Leave it,” he said, his eyes suddenly watery. “What was your question?”

“You’ve given so much for my sake, one would think you loved me very much. And yet, you’ve been so distant since we arrived here… do you regret what you have done for me, or…?”

“Heavens, no! Besides, I only did it partly for you. The main reason was I didn’t want it on my conscience to have let you die. That, and not my love for you, was worth parting with my mother’s portrait. As for being distant since… for one thing I had much on my mind, and for another… do you truly believe that after my behaviour in the cavern, I should have dared to approach you in any way?”

Oh, Badur. Are you really asking if I still love you? Is it possible that you have forgiven my lies, my deeds upon you? Can there really be any healing for such wounds? It seems too good to be true.

“I love you,” he said gently, “as much as I ever did. And I have missed you more than I can say. Believe that if I have not offered my comfort, or asked for yours, it was not that I didn’t want to.”

“Well then,” she said softly, “what you have not offered is accepted, and what you have not requested is granted.”

And very slowly, her eyes never leaving his, she raised his hands to her lips and kissed them.

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