Faramir Fiction Archive

For your sake Badur (NC-17)

Written by Nerey Camille

20 February 2013 | 19253 words

Summary: If the only way to save someone you love was to torture them physically and wound them mentally, perhaps for ever… would you do it? Could you do it, even if you would? And if you did… how would you live with the knowledge of it afterwards?
A young Faramir has been ordered to spy on the Orcs in Ithilien. There he meets someone completely unexpected. As memories from a luminous past flood him, he has to strive hard to keep some light in the present… for Badur, but also for himself.

Pairings: OFC (Original Female Character).
Rating: NC-17 for explicit violence and sexual content.
Warnings: Angst, torture, OFC, pre-war of the Ring (book-verse). Strong language. Minor changes to the original plot.
Disclaimers and acknowledgements: No profit is being made. Tolkien owns Middle Earth and Faramir. Inspiration drawn from Riley’s Harry Potter fanfiction Pawn to Queen. Badur is the name of Aladdin’s bride in one version of the tale of Aladdin. Jahel is an invented name, inspired from the arabic female name “Jawl”, which means “to move freely”. Samar, the home of Badur’s family, is an invented city of Harad, built where the river Harnen cuts the great Harad road. The name is a play on Samarkand. The end of the fourth chapter subtly mirrors the end of the beautiful movie Pride and Prejudice with Keira Knightley. The title of the last chapter, of course, is an homage to the immortal Star Wars saga.

Written for my challenge The only way.

Beta: first four chapters have been checked by Bell Witch, for which I am very grateful. I was too impatient to post the final chapter, when I finally finished it, so… no beta for that one (so far). All remaining mistakes in the story are mine.

Notes: This story is dear to me for several reasons, not least among them the fact that it deals with complex ethical choices and important things like trust, assertiveness, selflessness and freedom. I remember the plot was received with some interest, and I would be overjoyed to have your feedback on the story as well.

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Chapter 1. The dream

Faramir shifted in his sleep. He was sitting in that horrible cavern again, swapping information with the chief of a band of hideous Orcs. He hated the foul creatures and loathed doing this job, not least because it required him to utter words that completely belied his true feelings. But the Steward’s orders were not to be disobeyed. They were disrupted by a strong noise come from the entrance of the cavern. A patrol of Orcs had just trooped in, groaning and yelling as if they had some cause for great excitement. Faramir looked at them warily (anything that pleased the Orcs could not be good for his own country, but he knew he had to be careful not to show his worry) and soon located the reason for the creatures’ gleeful mood. They had brought a captive.

He retreated back into the shadows and quickly drew his hood over his head; though this unfortunate creature had little chance of ever seeing the sun again, it was safer to remain unknown.

The Orcs brought their prize before their leader and Faramir could examine the prisoner at his leisure. It was a woman, much to his surprise; her face was bowed and hidden by a tangled mane of dark hair, but otherwise her attitude was proud and defiant. Her clothes were torn, and she sported some cuts and bruises, as if she had fought hard to free herself from her assailants; the rags that still clung to her body indicated she came from Harad, and the texture of her exposed skin showed she was young and from a fine family. All these elements reminded Faramir of Badur; affection rushed to his heart at the memory of his old love, and filled it with endless compassion for the poor girl before him. She was probably a Haradrim trying to escape Sauron’s rule, and it was hard upon her to have been caught now, when she was almost within reach of Gondor and safety.

At his side Ufthak, the Orcs’ leader, was examining his prisoner as he would a piece of meat. He extended one of his paws to forcefully lift her chin, then pulled her hair back roughly with the other. As the girl’s face was revealed, Faramir felt a cold shudder run down his spine. It could not be, but there it was, and there was nothing he could do about it. A cry of despair ripped his mind, never uttered, as he looked horrorstruck into the face of the woman he had just been thinking about.

“Trying to run away, are we?” sniggered Ufthak. “But you won’t run anywhere tonight, you won’t. Stuck here. Get your pretty face punched for trying to run away, yea.”

These words gave Faramir time and strength to recover. Danger had increased tenfold for him in the last few seconds, and he needed all of his wits about him to avoid doing anything that would betray his true allegiance. He observed the woman give Ufthak a cold, contemptuous look, not deigning to answer his taunting words. Her courage made him feel a tinge of pain. Badur was here, how he did not know, and it was of no consequence at the moment. The only thing that mattered was that she was going to be tortured, and murdered, before his eyes unless he did something to prevent it.

“Proud, eh? We’ll see what happens when we start playing with you. I’m sure Lord Herumor will be thrilled to watch the fun.”

Badur turned towards Faramir, and her gaze bore into his skull. Despite the protection of his hood it was difficult not to recoil before that look. It was full of hatred and scorn, mingled with a guarded curiosity; Faramir knew that she was wondering who he was, despising him for being a traitor to Gondor, and vowing to herself to remember his name in case she got out of her plight alive.

He returned her gaze coldly and appraisingly, pondering his options. As a Haradrim she had no value to the Orcs, for that country was already Sauron’s ally; if she had been from Gondor, they would have sent her to Mordor for interrogation. Therein lay his small chance of saving her.

“I am not sure I want to watch, Ufthak,” he said, with the shadow of a snigger. He watched for signs that she had recognized his voice, but either she had forgotten him or his voice had changed in the eight years elapsed since their parting, for she showed none. “You’ll damage her beyond repair pretty quick, and I hate to see a nice lass like that wasted.” He allowed his gaze to linger lasciviously on her and concluded: “You Orcs do not know how to have fun with a woman.”

That was true enough: Orcs could not experience sexual pleasure, though they had the physical apparatus for it. Ironically, it was Badur who had taught him her own theory about why Sauron would give them genitals, despite the fact that they were bred magically and there were no female Orcs. At least she would be spared that humiliation, though he doubted the alternatives were any better.

“Ooooh, you know that, do you? Then why don’t you show us how it is done?”

Damn! He had not bargained on this. Nay, there was no way he would rape Badur for them to gloat on it, fair Elbereth! He wasn’t even sure that he could physically do it, for one thing; the very thought made him feel sick. Before he could refuse, however, Ufthak was addressing the rest of his troop.

“What do you think, lads? We let our guest have his fun while we watch for a change. Won’t stop us from playing with her afterwards, either. And I bet she’ll be even in a better mood then, eh?”

Badur remained impassive at the cheering and roaring that followed these words (some of the Orcs were noisily demanding that she be handed to them right away), but Faramir saw her close her eyes briefly, as if hardening herself for what was coming.

“In fact,” he said, standing and slowly revolving around Badur in order to examine her critically from all angles, “I think she’s rather a beauty. Hardly a girl like you would expect to catch in these woods. I could use her, I need to unwind. I’d rather have this woman with me than go once a month to see the prostitutes in Cair Andros. I’ll buy her from you, if you are willing. But I want her hale.”

The Orcs roared angrily and surrounded Badur more closely, but Ufthak was silent, obviously tempted by the prospect of a fair amount of gold. He seemed to hesitate before the irritation of his soldiers, however.

“She can’t last long,” said Faramir, resuming his seat and dropping his voice so that only Ufthak could hear him. “You won’t get much fun from her. A male would serve you better, and you’re getting those often enough.” That was unfortunately true; he hoped he had managed to convey the implicit message that he had rendered enough services as a traitor to deserve a reward. “I will offer you a good price, Ufthak,” he added persuasively. “A very good price.” He reached for his neck and drew out a fine golden chain he had been wearing under his garments; to it was attached a small portrait, beautifully crafted in gold and precious stones; it had obviously an enormous value.

Ufthak looked at the jewel, then at his soldiers, dubiously, and Faramir decided that if his request was denied, he would take his chance and try to deliver her by force. The odds would be against him; there were more than twenty Orcs to fight, and even with Badur’s help there was only the slightest chance of survival. At this point, the leader’s harsh voice broke into Faramir’s grim thoughts.

“The lads’ll be unhappy if you carry their prize out,” he said immovably. “They don’t get much of a chance of amusement these days. Most of your boys manage to kill themselves before we take them…”

That’s because they know what they’re in for otherwise, thought Faramir bitterly.

“Of course, I wouldn’t mind giving her away if you could provide some male captives in exchange for her. I want to please you, myself.”

“What?” gasped Faramir. “I can’t! I’m already taking awful risks to help you. I can arrange for my men to get into an ambush, but how am I to guarantee that you capture them alive? Not that I wouldn’t agree if it could be done,” he added, reluctantly.

“Then I’m afraid I have to allow the lads some fun. You can get the girl after they’ve amused themselves a little.”

“You know full well they will be out of order once they start. I want that girl alive, Ufthak. Don’t force me to become angry or you’ll regret it.”

“You show them, then, you torture her. Maybe they’ll accept that. Can’t take all the fun from them,” replied the Orc leader stubbornly. “It’s them what took her; would have a mutiny on my hands.”

Faramir could very well believe that. The Orcs had retired a few paces to let their leader and the stranger talk, but they were guarding their prey as if ready to fight anyone who would deny it them. He thought quickly. Whatever his personal feelings, he would not sacrifice any of his men for this. He had been offered an alternative that no spy would refuse. It was that or fighting a losing fight against the Orcs, betraying his mission and ruining all his father’s strategies.

He knew he ought to be grateful for the chance of getting Badur and himself out of this hell, but it was with a sinking feeling that he steeled his voice to answer Ufthak.

“Very well. Go talk to them. But I warn you, Ufthak, I won’t damage her more than I can avoid.”

“Our guest is going to play with the prisoner for you,” roared Ufthak, as a circus ringmaster would announce his best artist, “he’s going to show us how they use women in Gondor.”

Faramir sighed inwardly. He soon noticed that the Orcs, though grudgingly, were ready to accept his offer; it took him a few more seconds to realize that they were eager to see how men “got fun” out of women. He had wondered before if he would be able to summon an erection under these strained circumstances; it seemed as if he was going to find out. His hand went down, casual and lazy, to stroke his genitals tentatively.

“Make her squeal, so we know she appreciates your treatment” said the Orc leader, in what struck Faramir as a rather threatening tone. The Orcs were settling around the cavern, ready to cheer and laugh; only two remained in the middle to hold the prisoner, and all eyes, except hers, were fixed on him.

It was then, while he sat watching her and idly fingering his sex, that he just knew he wouldn’t do it. He believed he was capable of it; that he had enough control over his mind and body to perform the deed that had been required of him. But he would not rape Badur, of all people; even if he had to torture her instead (something he would likely have had to do anyway), he would not commit the ultimate crime of twisting an act of love and trust into a degrading parody of itself.

He would have to replace humiliation with pain; there was nothing else for it. The Orcs were waiting for the show to start; he rose from his seat and came to stand three feet away from Badur. Their eyes met, and as he observed her the beginnings of a plan formed themselves in his mind…

“Strip her, and tie her to the ground, face up,” he ordered brusquely, still looking at her. Then he parted his lips in a lewd smile. “Let her legs be put apart and bent, and her arms tied above her head.”

The two Orcs advanced to execute his orders, but Badur unexpectedly sprang to action. Though her hands were bound, she pushed one of the guards with her shoulder and kicked the other, then turned fiercely to Faramir, her teeth bared.

The young man didn’t show his surprise. “What is it, girl?” he said in a cold, amused voice. “Is this meant to tell us that you’d rather preserve yourself for me? How touching. Very well, I will tie you down then.”

He saw fear and resolution in her eyes as she readied herself for his attack. He was a warrior; he stepped forward and brutally forced her down in one skillful move. Not that it was too difficult, he thought self-deprecatingly, to vanquish an opponent whose hands were tied behind her back.

He soon had her pinned to the ground, tied to four daggers buried to the hilt in the cavern’s soil. He proceeded then to rip her clothes off, none too gently. All the Orcs had now retreated to the walls of the cavern, leaving empty the space where Badur lay. They were already brimming with enthusiasm and yelled in a way that Faramir would have found disgusting, if he hadn’t had more pressing matters on his mind. He had first expected, when he gave the order to tie her down, that Badur would yield to his ministrations in the hope of leaving the cavern; she must realize that her chances of escaping were much higher once she was in open space and in the care of only one man. But her fierce resistance had shattered that assumption; whether because she hadn’t heard the agreement between him and Ufthak, or because she couldn’t bring herself to please her aggressors, it was plain she was not going to collaborate.

And that means she will resist to the last, and I’ll have to break her before the Orcs are content. It will not be an easy thing to do.

Badur lay naked and helpless before him. Resolutely putting out of his mind any thought that would hinder what he had to do, Faramir closed the distance between their bodies.

Thank the Valar, he had always been a good actor. No one would have believed, as he explored Badur’s anatomy in a way both lustful and rather sadistic, that he loathed every move he made. No sound of pain escaped her lips when he squeezed her flesh and dug his nails into soft skin. He snorted annoyedly.

“You’re trying to be valiant, hm? Trying to deprive us of fun? It seems like you need some proper teaching. And you will get it; I’m going to hurt you until you are yelling with pain, and then you’ll wish you’d started sooner.”

The Orcs egged him on and he kept his word. While abstaining from actually raping Badur, he inflicted on her as much pain and humiliation as he could without really wounding her. She bit her lips, her eyes went watery, but neither sound nor tear came out. Her eyes, though, regarded him with endless hate and for a split second he lost himself in them, absorbing along with her contempt and her hatred the full and indelible horror of his role.

Suddenly his expression changed. He looked at her closely, then knelt between her legs and searched for a black speck on her left inner thigh. When he found it he raised his head, laughed aloud, and drew his hood back, uncovering his features.

“Well, if it isn’t the little bitch from Samar!” he exclaimed. “Do you recognize me, whore?”

She looked at him for a full twenty seconds. Slowly her expression turned to incredulity and dismay. Faramir laughed again, satisfied.

“This whore,” he said sarcastically to the Orcs, “is the daughter of one of those clans that wanted to betray our Lord Sauron. I was sent by the Steward to make an alliance with her family… and under cover of that, I seduced her, lay with her, and in that way got from her all the secrets that allowed me to turn in her family to the Dark Lord, as rebels.”

She found her voice out of the depths of her horror.

“You can’t be a traitor… you… the Steward’s son…”

Of course, he had expected this to come out. His answer was ready.

“Nay, you silly, I am not the Steward’s son. That was only a lie meant to deceive you. Do you believe the ruler of Gondor would send his precious sons into Harad, a land full of his enemies? Nay, he sent me, one of his trusted captains,” he laughed evilly at the word, “as his son. You naive girl, you shouldn’t have believed everything a lover told you, should you? Then your sister would still be alive now, wouldn’t she?”

“She’s not dead, she can’t be, she was alive when I left…” said Badur imploringly.

“But I’d be much surprised if she still lives now,” declared Faramir. “The Dark Lord has enacted a law that no Haradrim is to leave the country without permission, and your family was already watched, wasn’t it? Thanks to me… “

“No,” she said, brokenly, “no.”

Faramir felt the satisfaction of a work well done, and for the first time in his life thanked the Valar that he was Denethor’s son; otherwise, undoubtedly he couldn’t have accomplished this, couldn’t have had it in him to find such terrible and efficient words. But now, ideas were flowing swiftly.

“Oh, yes,” he said, taking advantage of her weakness. “Girls that open their legs so easily to strangers are bound to be in trouble. That’s why in Gondor such girls are scorned. Of course I might have taught you that, seeing as you were so deluded with your freedom ideas, but you were so attractive… it was more sensible to humour your stupidity and enjoy your body…”

“No… no… you must be lying…”.

“Delightful country, Harad. Every girl ready to open her legs to a true man. I had many an occasion to test it, but I must say you were the most beautiful of all… and believe me,” he said, turning to the Orcs, “I pity you for not being able to enjoy these activities, for you would have liked to taste her. She is highly gifted at giving pleasure, this girl is. I expect it comes from practice. Doesn’t it, girl?”

She looked at him, wordless, disbelief and revulsion etched on her face.

“No use to deny it, I remember quite well how you loved men. Crept out every night to have passers-by take you in the street… would have paid for them, if I hadn’t been there. And you believed me when I praised your ways, when I indulged your stupid ideas…”

She unexpectedly flared up at this.

“You were sincere at the time. I am sure of it. I don’t know why you have changed, but I was no idiot. And you had a heart then, though now you are nothing but a beast.”

He choked with laughter, then looked at her amusedly.

“A heart! Indeed you are still as foolish as you were then. So I’ll explain it for you. You wonder what has changed? It’s very simple. When I stayed with you, I was in a place ruled by women, so I humoured them. Now, the Dark Lord rules… and Harad will become much more enjoyable, because we’ll be able to bed Haradrim women while at the same time showing them who the master is… as I am afraid you’ll have to learn, tonight…”

And with that he pinched her harder than ever yet… on her sex. She couldn’t help a cry of pain and surprise. Still, it was not loud enough.

“This whore likes my cock too much,” he told the Orcs, “I don’t reckon it would amuse you to see her moaning like the bitch she is. She’d better learn a harder lesson… now,” he said brutally, turning to her, “you shall discover what my true ideas are as far as men and women are concerned: men on top, and women down, to please them and be quiet.”

He looked at her with as much hate and contempt as he could summon, and he saw such incomprehension and grief in her eyes that he felt a stab of pity and remorse; he pushed it aside, becoming brutal to protect himself from emotion that would be deadly to both of them.

“You are afraid, aren’t you? Well, you’d better get used to it. You’re coming with me after tonight.”

“No, please… give me a quick death…” she muttered, likely to herself or to any Gods she believed in, rather than to him or the fascinated Orcs.

He watched her face intently. She was appalled by the thought that she would have to go with him, and he divined it was not for fear of his brutality (she must have expected much worse from the Orcs) but because he was an insufferable company to her now, because the thought of his treachery and his taunting was agony to her. A second later her face settled in resignation. She had abandoned fight, she was defeated.

Just in time, he managed to remember he was supposed to react in some way.

“How very ungrateful of you,” he said, coldly. “You shall learn to appreciate me… or to please me, at least. Now, yell.”

And with that he began to pinch every one of her most delicate regions, in an unpredictable order. She moved furiously to protect herself, but she was held down by the daggers, completely impotent. She started gasping in pain, and soon she was shrieking with every touch, and yelling for relief. And now Faramir could concentrate on the appreciative reactions of the Orcs.

It took a good while to appease them. The vision of suffering made Orcs very hungry, and soon they were eating and drinking, while Faramir occasionally pinched some spot of the almost-unconscious Badur. When he saw the chief was beginning to get sated, he turned to him.

“She won’t stand much more,” he said, “and I’d rather take her away while she’s unconscious. It will be more difficult for me to transport her if she resists. Besides, I’d better get going.”

Ufthak looked round at his Orcs and nodded.

“Fine, you can have her. But you’ll have to knock her out,” he said, sniggering evilly.

Faramir knew the Orcs expected the coup de grâce to be a mighty blow, of the sort that make a lot of noise. He sighed inwardly and approached Badur, who gave him a look of pain, as if she still couldn’t believe the man she had cherished could have turned into a monster. It turned his stomach upside-down, and made him wish he could avert his gaze from that harrowing expression. But it couldn’t be afforded. He looked her directly in the eyes as he let his fist fall upon her face. Badur fell limply on the floor, her mouth bleeding, and Faramir suddenly understood that this was the last time he would raise his hand to a defenceless person.

He was finally free to leave. He bowed low to Ufthak and handed him the precious chain that was to be Badur’s ransom. Swiftly he drew out the daggers, bound the unconscious woman’s hands and feet securely, and took his leave from the Orcs, carrying his captive on his back into the depths of the forest. Only then did his body that was drenched in sweat finally relax, and did his voice stiff with tears stop muttering, as the nightmare ended and allowed the son of Denethor to fall into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

Chapter 2. Meeting among the ruins

Badur was woken from unconsciousness by a thin ray of light and the soft, merry sound of water nearby. She felt a general discomfort all over her body that she came to recognize as pain as her foggy mind slowly started to uncloud. Then she remembered where she had lost consciousness and opened her eyes in alarm, but closed them almost immediately, blinded by the sunlight. Her move had caused the left side of her head to throb awfully, and she winced. Not daring to open her eyes again at once, she tried to make out her surroundings.

She found she was lying on a couch that was probably made of greenery, since the scent of leaves and herbs rose softly to her nostrils. Though she was still unclothed, someone had wrapped her in a woollen blanket to keep her warm, and her hands and feet had been untied. Running her fingers carefully over her body, she guessed that this someone had also somewhat cleansed her, for she could find no trace of either dirt or blood. Inhaling deeply, she thought she could smell the remnants of a fire.

Her closed eyes had now become accustomed to the light, and she carefully opened them. She was in a small cave, definitely different from the one she had been brought into by the Orcs; there was barely room for three or four people here. It might have been the haunt of some wild beast originally, but the ceiling was higher and the entrance larger than one would have expected for a den, and she came to the conclusion that it must have been enlarged by human craft. Light flowed in through the entrance and also through some openings in the rock above her.

For a few seconds she lay motionless, drinking in the sensation of being alive and out of the Orcs’ cavern, and at the same time wondering what would happen to her now. She sat on her couch cautiously and found that next to it were a large goblet full of water, some berries on a big leaf and what looked like a set of clothes. She suddenly realized she was dying of thirst and ravenous. She drained the goblet and crammed the berries before reaching for the clothes and examining them. There were no pants; only a shirt, a string of leather that could be used as a girdle, and a long green cloak. She donned them quickly and got out of the cave… only to stop dead in her tracks, her heart pounding.

The cave opened onto a level terrace that faced west, looking on the woods of Ithilien. Some rocks on the sides and above her allowed cover to observe the landscape beneath without being seen; but the ground before her was flat and smooth, and ended abruptly in a steep fall towards the trees below. Near the brink, hugging his legs with his arms and looking away into the distance, sat Faramir.

His upper body was naked. He might have heard her approaching, or else he felt the weight of her gaze upon him, for he said, without turning to her:

“There’s a stream just down the path on the left, if you want to wash. It will help diminish the irritation. I shall not watch you.”

For some reason, those words and the neutral, almost humble tone in which they were uttered, angered her.

“Why would you care about my pain? You inflicted it, didn’t you? And you’ve brought me here to be your slave, so there’s no need to pretend you’re respecting my privacy. For all I know, you’ve raped me ten times while I was unconscious.”

“Do you feel sore inside?” he asked, with bitter irony.

“No, I don’t. But I may as well tell you that you were wrong not to take the opportunity while you could, then. And you were still more imprudent not to keep me tied. For if you allow me the chance to seize any weapon, I shall kill you.”

His only answer was to draw his dagger from his belt and throw it at her feet, without looking at her. There was such forlornness and indifference in the gesture that she stopped.

“Why are you giving me this?” she asked.

He looked at her, his face a mask of bitterness.

“Do you think that I care in the least about my life, after what I’ve done to you? Would that my death would be enough compensation!”

“I don’t understand you. Are you telling me that you feel bad about it?”

“Is that so difficult to understand?”

“Well, yes. It was up to you not to do it, wasn’t it?” She was shivering with rage. That it should anger her so that he appeared to regret his acts surprised her, but she pushed amazement aside with annoyance. All she knew was it had made her suffer horribly to have to change her opinion about him, and she’d rather he was clear once and for all and she could know what to do with him, with herself… with everything that had happened.

“Yes, the choice was up to me. To do what I did or to allow the Orcs to torture and kill you.” He then said very softly, “Would you have preferred death?”

There was no irony in his words this time; he asked as if he dreaded her answer. For one moment she was astonished by the thought that he had done this to save her –as his efforts to tend to her afterwards seemed to corroborate– then rage flooded her again.

“For the stars’ sake, you… you liar, you were there with them! You told me Jahel was dead! You were IN LEAGUE with them!” she said, her voice trembling, not least at remembering her sister’s fate.

“I was there on my father’s orders,” he answered quietly. “And I know naught of your sister’s fate. I hope she is alive.”

“And who is your father, pray?” she fired up, though she couldn’t help a sense of relief at his words about her sister. “Your identity seems rather dubious of late”.

“I am Faramir, second son of Denethor, as I told you the first time we met. I couldn’t admit it in the Orcs’ presence, for they do not know it. They would hardly believe a son of the Steward to be a traitor; they think I am a mere noble.”

“And why should I believe you?”

“You need not believe me, and I cannot prove my words here and now. I am merely giving you the truth, if you want it.”

“If this is the truth, what I want is an explanation about all your lies!”

“They were the only means I found to break your spirit, so that you would stop resisting and the Orcs would be content.”

“What? Have you any idea of the effect your words had? The things you told me… how, how could you ever say them? Have you no pity, no faith…?”

Tears were streaming down her face. Faramir got up, and she took a step back, though his eyes were down and he didn’t appear menacing. Then he looked at her squarely.

“Badur, please. Do not speak of it, I cannot stand it. I did my best, and I did it for you, yet I am feeling worse than I have felt in all my life. I understand your position, and I don’t expect you to understand mine, not now, at any rate. Your reproaches are just, legitimate and deserved, but I can’t stand them, I have enough with my own.”

He turned his back on her and looked away into the West, while she watched him, her astonishment slowly giving way to rage. For a moment she thought how tempting it would be to push him into the precipice, while he stood so heedlessly on the brink. Then Faramir bowed his head, his hand passing wearily over his eyes, and he looked into her eyes again.

“I’m sorry, Badur. It is not for me to decide what you should be saying or not.” He strode away towards the rock wall and she saw that his sword, bow and quiver were laid against the stone. He seized them and came back before her, stopping at a respectful distance.

“Here,” he said, presenting the weapons to her, “I hope this will prove to you once and for all that I intend no harm to you, nor did I ever before. Now you are armed, and I am not. You are free,” he knelt on the ground, “and I surrender myself as your captive, to spare or punish as you will. I shall accept whatever doom you pronounce.”

“You shall accept whatever doom I pronounce,” she repeated disbelievingly, even while taking the weapons. She was still quivering with rage.

Faramir nodded.

“Indeed?”

He lifted his gaze to her and saw she was now bending the bow, an arrow fitted to the string and aimed directly at his heart. As their eyes met, she slowly lowered the shaft until it was pointing at his genitals, and her features hardened. She saw him repress a shudder, but he made no move. For a moment, his eyes flashed with some strong emotion she couldn’t identify, and she saw his lips form the words “Go ahead, do it.”

Unsettled by this unresisting acceptance, she stood hesitating for a fraction of a second, then lowered her bow and managed a sardonic laugh.

“That is hardly a good solution you offer, Lord Faramir. For no true villain would accept it. Therefore either you are punished by me, and the fact itself will prove your penalty to be undeserved, or I spare you and take the chance that you made exactly that bet in order to earn back my confidence for some evil purpose.”

“True, my lady,” he conceded softly.

She arched her eyebrows in a stern, unsmiling way.

“You know what my choice will be. The only way for me to convince myself that you speak the truth is to punish you. I will not take the risk of sparing you. Why would you endure that, if you are innocent?”

He returned no answer, and she understood the choice was up to her. Well, it was already made, she thought grimly. She unstrung the bow, shot him a last hard glance, then Faramir winced as the string landed achingly on his shoulders.

Time after time the fine rope flashed and lashed Faramir’s back until it was stained with blood. He never uttered a sound of complaint. Badur remembered her own yells under his hands and she felt anger and despair welling up inside her, so swiftly that she thought she would burst if she couldn’t let them out through the thin fiber she wielded. Again and again. Only when the cord was lacerating Faramir’s torn skin so painfully that he could barely hold himself up; only when her own arm hurt so much she couldn’t move it and her body was emptied of all sensation but fatigue, did she stop. It was high time: as she stood back, panting and wiping her forehead on her sleeve, Faramir collapsed on the ground.

A dizzying haziness made her reel, and suddenly it seemed to her that she beheld him for the first time.

“Faramir…” she whispered, dropping by his side and shaking him softly, but he did not move.

He has stood it until he passed out.

Emotion flooded her for a second; then she walked into the cavern to retrieve the goblet, found some cloths in a corner and went in search of water to wash his cuts.

She had no difficulty finding the stream. The rocks on the left formed a narrow passage that went down into the woods, and the source sang and danced by its side. It was a strong spring of snow-cold water, sprightly and clear, and she saw that further down it formed a waterfall into a pond.

It took her a few trips to clean all of Faramir’s wounds with the fresh water of the fountain. Then she stretched him out on his belly over the ground, covered his back with a damp cloth, trusting the now high sun to keep him warm, and went down to clean herself.

The water was deliciously cold and, as Faramir had predicted, helped lessen the irritation in her body. All of a sudden she felt much cheered up. It seemed a marvel to be alive and strong, able to enjoy the sun and the water and the birds singing in the woods, without dreading what would next befall her. The nightmare had ended and she suddenly realized that, for the first time since she had left Harad, she was safe and she had found a friend.

As she dried herself she thought of him, true as steel, willing to sacrifice his own life to earn back her confidence. Her cheeks burnt with shame; she ran to his side and washed his face with cold water, calling him by name until he awoke.

“How are you feeling?” she asked softly.

Faramir moved and winced.

“Not well,” he answered, but a weary smile spread over his face. He had not missed the change in her attitude.

“I…” she said, unsure how to best express her feelings. She snorted and laughed nervously. “You were right about the bath, it has done me good. I should have washed first thing in the morning, then I might not have treated you so badly.”

He looked at her, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“What I really wanted to say is… when I saw you falling on the ground, I felt remorseful for giving you such a savage treatment undeservedly. But the feeling only lasted for a moment. And now I am glad… for the action showed that you were still the same man I once knew, that I need not fear you or hate you. I could never regret that knowledge, even if your life had been lost to gain it. And I am unutterably grateful for your willingness to give me such a proof.”

He looked at her with a grave light in his eyes.

“I would say my pain was a small price to pay for the healing that your words bring,” he said simply, not clarifying if he spoke of her healing or his own. “I cannot say how glad I am to hear them. There are many reasons why I should be.”

Badur looked at him and saw such happiness in his eyes that she averted her gaze, suddenly feeling vulnerable and awkward.

“What are we to do now?” she asked thoughtfully, after a few moments of silence. “You’re not my captive any more, of course, though I should think it wise that you don’t move for the moment. Yet we ought to give some thought to the matter of food.”

“There is a rabbit over there,” he said, gesturing towards the rock wall. “I caught it this morning. I had no time for a proper hunt.”

“Then I’ll get down to the pond, I’m sure there’s some fish in it. I will wash your bowstring, by the way. I hope it will still be usable.”

“I doubt it,” he said, with only the shadow of a grin, “but there is a spare one in my quiver. Change it.”

She nodded and quickly had the bow ready again. Before she went down to capture the meal, she turned and gave him a swift, shy smile.

“There, that will do for today,” she said cheerfully half an hour later.

Faramir gazed appreciatively at the couple of trout before him, remembering that fishing was a tradition firmly anchored in Badur’s family. Badur was already busying herself with the fire, and he rose to help her.

“Wish that I had a mirror,” she said, glancing at the midday sun, “we’d have the fire set in no time. Ah, well. I am unbelievably hungry.”

They watched in silence as their meal roasted on a small stick over the fire. Badur was feeling incredibly happy, but somehow found it was difficult to speak. For one thing, she felt more like singing and for another, Faramir didn’t seem to be brimming with joy nearly as much as she was. He didn’t look exactly unhappy, but rather very thoughtful and seemingly not at all inclined to talk.

They started to eat quietly. When the silence between them had stretched for so long it had begun to become uncomfortable, Badur lifted her head.

“Faramir…”

“Yes?”

His eyes seemed to look through her for a moment before fixing themselves on her worried face.

“You are not sad because of what I told you earlier, are you? That I would prefer you dead and innocent than a traitor to yourself and to others?”

“That? Valar, no. Your words do but mirror my own thoughts on the matter,” he said, smiling.

“Then what troubles you?”

“A difficult question… I know what happened last night must have shaken you, but it was unnerving for me as well. And unlike you, the more I think about it, the more trouble I have coming to terms with what I did.”

She didn’t know how to respond to this, and he didn’t elaborate. As Faramir stood up, having finished his luncheon, she stopped him.

“Where are we going now?”

A shadow of infinite sadness flew over his gaze.

“Nowhere. We will stay here for as long as we need, until we are both healed.” Again, she had the impression that his words were ambiguous. Was he only speaking of their physical wounds?

“All right,” she said, smiling.

“I am going to lie down. If you wish to rest as well, I can leave you the cave.”

“Thank you. I think I’d rather stay here for a while.”

She drew her arms around her knees and sat thoughtfully, watching the embers of the fire at her feet. Alone with her thoughts, her mind naturally turned to all that had happened since the previous night: the fear in the Orcs’ den, Faramir’s terrible behaviour and his selfless atonement, his silence at lunch, and that strange remark:

“Unlike you, the more I think about it, the more trouble I have coming to terms with what I did.”

The words irritated her. They almost sounded as if he was suggesting…

Does he think what he did had no effect on me? I’ve had no time to think it over. It’s only sinking in now.

And the more I think about it, the more difficult everything becomes to understand. So many questions, so many things that I don’t know… What’s happened to him?

She pictured the present Faramir in her mind, so somber and taciturn, so different from the vital young man she had known.

Is this change caused by the events of last night, or has it come to pass in these last eight years?

No answer could she give to that, and at last she shook her head and went into the cave. Faramir was lying on his stomach, asleep. The cuts on his back were clearly visible in the dim light. His hair spread over his cheeks and shoulders in auburn waves, and he was breathing deeply. Badur looked at him for a moment before carefully laying herself down against the opposite wall. She fell asleep almost instantly.

When Faramir awoke, he saw her lying across the cave, her body turned towards him. She was sleeping peacefully and he rose with caution, not wishing to disturb her. Outside the cave the sun was slowly moving into the West; in a couple of hours it would light the far end of the cavern. Faramir started to walk to and fro near the brink, glad to have an occasion to stretch his legs and his mind without the interference of duty or company.

He had very serious matters to ponder, but his thoughts mostly dwelt on Badur at first. It was indeed a strange and marvellous fate that had reunited them, when it would have been so easy for them to miss each other. This thought chilled him, and he realized that seeing her again had made him happier than he had been in a long time.

And probably more than is reasonable, he thought. I would be a fool to assume that we can find again that easy happiness we had in Harad. I have changed since we parted, and I daresay she will have, too.

Now that he thought about it, she had. She was slightly taller and her frame was broader than he remembered, in spite of her thinness after a long flight, probably full of hardships. That, however, was but a trifle compared to the alterations in her character. Her traits were graver, more resolute, and her eyes bore the trace of long suffering and disillusion. It was the face of one who has left behind the flowerbed of infancy to enter the arena of merciless fight. And as Faramir realized this, he wondered what her life had been like in those eight years, the life of that beautiful, joyful child that was now as far behind Badur as the eighteen-year-old youth he had been was behind himself. An ocean of memories swept into his mind, and for a few seconds he didn’t see the sun going down into the West, nor the tears blinding his eyes.

Chapter 3. The Land of Light

He saw a desert country under the midday flaming sun, and in front of him a mass of greenery, encircled by a tall wall of immaculate white. Two warriors guarded the gate, tall and fair; it was not until Faramir was right before them that he understood, from the smoothness of their features, that they were women.

And no great wonder was that, for had he not come into the country that was ruled by valorous females?

He hesitated for a moment about the proper way to address them, then dismounted and asked them courteously, in the Common Speech:

“I seek the house of the Lady Jahel, O guards. Can you tell me where it lies?”

“It is at the center of the oasis, O stranger,” one of them answered equally courteously. “You may enter.”

He nodded in thanks and led his mount through the open gate. Within, there was an explosion of life: tall trees in full blossom, under whose shadow one could rest from the deadly sun; bushes full of colourful flowers whose scent filled the air and made dizzy those unaccustomed to it; bees, dragonflies and birds flying everywhere, small insects scurrying along the branches, or over the ground. A little to the right there was a large pond, where some travellers were watering their horses; next to it, others refreshed themselves with clear water from a well.

Faramir buried his face in the folds of his Haradrim turban, to withhold his Gondorian features from the travellers’ sight. The fewer people knew about his presence here, the better. Therefore he only stopped briefly to allow his horse a deep draught from the pond, and proceeded to the core of the oasis, where he had glimpsed another snowy wall.

This one was of lesser height than its outer counterpart, but still it shielded from sight the house that must be beyond. A gracefully ornamented arch cleaved it, beside which he beheld two women. One was obviously a guard, clad more elegantly in white than those of the outer wall, though still in full armour. The other was talking to her; she was draped in fine veils of vivid colours that barely covered her body and did nothing to conceal her figure. She turned to look at Faramir as he approached, and he halted his steps, instantly and unexpectedly conquered.

She must be his own age, but as different from him as lush summer from sleeping winter. Tall and slender, stronger yet more graceful than Gondorian women, she bore herself with a confidence that was unknown to him. Her features, overshadowed by a curtain of black hair, were darker and finer than most he had beheld, and a fountain of mirth seemed to be constantly pouring out of them. Even as her gaze fell upon him laughter rippled on her lips, as well as in her coal eyes, and Faramir suddenly understood where her conspicuous strength came from: she, unlike him or anyone he knew, had basked in love and happiness her entire life.

Her eyes were questioning, and Faramir realized simultaneously that he had been smiling for the last few seconds, and that she must expect him to speak. Quickly recovering, he bowed to her.

“I am Faramir, son of Denethor of Gondor. I am looking for the Lady Jahel,” he said politely.

The girl smiled at him, probably amused by his strange air, and gestured gracefully.

“My sister is inside. Please come in, O noble stranger.”

Still dazed, Faramir followed her through the arch and into a beautifully arranged garden, along a path that led directly to a large house. He barely noticed the white, smooth walls and the flat roof over the only floor of the house. Following his guide he passed through the open door into a large, shadowy room cooled by a fountain. The girl then sank into a profound bow, touching her brow with her hand and speaking to a woman who was sitting on comfortable cushions and reading a book.

“Madam, here is a stranger who wishes to see you.”

“Thank you, young one.”

The Lady Jahel had a grave, deep voice that spoke of dignity and courage. Faramir advanced and saw a beautiful woman of about forty, who had more authority than many a man he had seen. Jahel rose to welcome him, while her younger sister stood by, and Faramir barely managed to say the words of greeting he had prepared.

He was gazing in wonder at the two women before him, fully realizing for the first time that Harad was ruled by females. For all his knowing of the fact beforehand, it had not sunk in till now. But these women held an inner power that had nothing to do with rank, wealth or even personal charisma. He could not place exactly what it was, but there it was, staring him in the face. And Faramir blushed, for Jahel had been speaking to him and he had paid no attention.

“I hope that aside from discussing matters of state, you will find time for knowing our culture and spending a good time here. Badur will be only too glad of helping you in this, I am sure.”

Faramir caught the glance of sheer love Jahel gave to her sister, and fleetingly thought that whoever dared harm the girl would have a fierce and deadly enemy. But most of his mind was occupied by the discovery that Badur was the loveliest name he had ever heard.

Later, after a male servant had shown him his quarters, when he had taken a bath and refreshed himself from his journey, he went out into the garden. Badur was waiting there, stretched out on a stone bench, in a lazy (and unbelievably charming) posture that no lady of Gondor would have allowed herself. An open book lay on the earth near her, but Faramir guessed it had been taken more out of pretence than a real intention to read. She sprang to her feet as he approached her.

“Here you are at last,” she said. “I wanted to talk to you when you were in the bath, but Jahel said that would distress you. Is it true?”

“Yes, it is,” he said after nearly choking with surprise. “In Gondor a respectable woman should not see a man without clothes, nor the reverse, unless they are married. I have heard many things are different here, but that would have come as a big surprise.”

Her perplexed face told clearly what she thought of such a ridiculous Gondorian custom, but she had the courtesy not to comment on it.

“It is good I didn’t do it, then,” she said simply. “Just tell me if anything embarrasses you. It seems we have very different customs and I know very little of Gondor. There’s a chance we’ll have to learn many things if we are to spend time comfortably together.”

“I will tell you,” he said, grinning now. “So, what do you wish to do?”

“It is for the guest to declare his wishes, but maybe I should tell you what we can do. We can go fishing in the river, or hunting in the desert. We can go to the bazaar in town. We can walk or ride across the country. We can stay at home and talk, read, play games, or listen to music and see dances. There are other activities, as well, but they require being naked, so we’d better leave them out for the time being.”

There was no hint of mockery in her voice and Faramir wondered what those other activities might be, but he dared not ask. Why was it with this girl he had the impression of being very timid, strait-laced and ignorant?

“I’ve heard there are very good horses in your country,” he said after a pause. “I’d love to mount one of them. Would you mind that?”

“I thought you had already travelled enough today! But it is fine with me. I will not race you this afternoon, it would not be fair, but at least you can see what our horses are like.”

“I think I am still rested enough to race you,” he countered, barely avoiding “to race a woman.” He understood this would be seen as very offensive, but it was hard to let go of the habits of a whole life.

He shouldn’t have talked. Badur saddled two horses, let him choose one, and charged the other with handicap loads so that it carried more weight than Faramir’s. But he had no chance to win; she beat him hands down, racing far ahead until he could stand no more and stopped, exhausted. She cantered back, fresh and full of energy. Her face changed when she saw Faramir’s.

“Oh, damn,” she said. “Here, take this.” She gave him some water. “I shouldn’t have done it. I knew it wasn’t fair. A host should not show off in front of their guest. Forgive me.”

“Do not worry, Badur. It serves me right for defying you.”

“You didn’t believe a woman could beat you, did you?” she asked in a low voice. “My sister told me Gondorian men consider women to be incapable of most things.”

“I can’t deny it, even if I can’t approve of it any longer. Forgive me to have thought so poorly of you, Badur. I well see how unjust it is, but I can’t help it, I’ve been raised so. But I wish to learn better. And I will. It just hurt a bit to be beaten so clearly, especially with your extra load, but I think I can overcome it.”

“But the outcome was obvious. To say nothing of your weariness, I know the horses, I know the terrain, and from what I’ve heard we Haradrim are better riders than Gondorians. A bit of load is nothing when you know how to stimulate your horse.”

Faramir had not thought of that, and so he cheered up and they rode back talking amiably. As they dismounted to lead the horses into the stables and Badur showed him how to take care of them, Faramir admired again the strong grace of the girl’s movements.

“From the way you look at me, one would say you were hypnotized,” she laughed.

“Hypnotized? I’ve never heard that word,” he said, curiosity overcoming his embarrassment at her remark.

“Haven’t you? We have some people here that can charm snakes, so that they follow them everywhere, always staring at them fixedly and doing whatever they are ordered to. We say that these people hypnotize snakes.”

“That is hardly a flattering comparison, but it strikes me as rather accurate,” he replied, smiling uneasily. “I have never seen anyone like you before. I am used to observing tirelessly everything that fascinates me. It is often the best way to understand and learn from things.”

“Then by all means keep observing me,” she said, laughing again. “But if there is aught you cannot understand, you can always ask.”

“I shall.”

They dined together with Jahel in the main room. The food, though strange to Faramir’s palate, was good, varied and abundant. Conversation was light and merry; both Badur and her sister asked Faramir many things about his home, and told him about customs and peoples in Harad. Faramir enjoyed himself intensely, soon feeling more welcome and at ease than in his own home in Minas Tirith.

Later, lying awake on his bed and staring out of the window at the deeply blue, star-webbed sky, he thought he had never felt such blissful happiness before. And he suddenly understood what had so intrigued him about the two sisters. It was the way they moved. Their demeanour had an unmistakable air of freedom and insouciance that was… well, boyish. That was what made them so different from any other women that Faramir had known; but strange as such a trait might appear to him, he had to admit it suited both of them well.

And so days went by, each leaving Faramir more profoundly marked by bliss and wonder. Badur was a cheerful, knowledgeable, enthralling companion, and each hour they spent together brought them closer to each other. One evening, the seventh since Faramir had arrived, they found themselves after sunset on the roof of the house, watching the first stars appearing.

“I have been feeling restless all afternoon,” said Faramir. “I feel that I want something; the desire for it is so acute, and yet I do not know exactly what I am yearning for. Except it has to do with you.”

That last sentence, that he thought he would need all his courage to utter, was so easy to come out of his lips.

Badur looked at him kindly.

“I think I know what it is you want. It is so charming that you don’t, though,” she answered, and for the first time ever since Faramir knew her, her voice trembled a little.

“These last days have been like a dream,” continued Faramir, looking away into the western sky. “I never thought someone like you could exist. You are learned about so many things: horses, politics, hunting and fighting, art, poetry… and you are so young! I admire you… and yet, none of that is what has struck me hardest in you. This yearning I cannot define, it is born of your personality, your confidence, your laugh, your allure. Whenever I am near you I feel very warm, in a dizzying sort of way, and very vulnerable, and very sensitive. I often feel uncomfortable and hurt and yet I am happier than I have ever been before. Being next to you is a mixture of pain and pleasure, but I would not be parted from you.”

He wasn’t looking at Badur, so he didn’t see the intense emotion that spread over her features. Her voice was quite steady.

“Is that the desire you were talking about? Not to be parted from me?”

“No,” said Faramir. “The longing I speak of began days ago, on my third night here. Do you remember? We had gone to town with the Lady Jahel. We met the other clan chiefs and summoned them to the conclave in the oasis, and afterwards you showed me through the town. It was so hot, and you wanted to swim, and so did I, so we took our clothes off and plunged into the river. At that moment you were only a friend to me, even as a boy, and I was just playing with you, as we raced and splashed each other… But that night, I couldn’t sleep because of the memory of it. I couldn’t forget your body, and I was filled with a strange fever… and since then, every time you are standing close by, looking at me, or just barely touching me… I feel as if something is slowly burning inside me. And I so strongly want to… I don’t know!”

He became flustered, he blushed, stammered, and fell silent. Finally he looked at her; she was gazing at her hands folded upon the parapet.

“Don’t you?” she asked very softly. “Or are you afraid of acknowledging it?”

“I want to touch you, to hold you, to be closer to you in some way I cannot fathom. You told me that in Harad men and women could have pleasure with each other, do the things that people in Gondor do with their spouses. That thought has also been haunting me. I do not know if that is what I wish; but if so, is it what you wish?”

He looked at her again, and was surprised to see that she had closed her eyes, thrown her head back; her lips were parted, and she was sighing softly. The ache to be closer to her gripped him, stronger than ever; but then he thought she might not be feeling well.

“Badur? Are you alright?”

She nodded, without opening her eyes.

“I have desired you more strongly with every day that passed,” she murmured, “and I have watched your longing grow, until it was torturing both of us with its deliciousness. I did not want to frighten you, but never before have I waited so long for a man, and I was reaching my limits. I am so glad you told me about how you felt.”

She looked at him, and Faramir thought it was impossible to stand such a gaze, so sweet and ardent it was; but instead he found he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Once again, the urge to do something overwhelmed him and he swore mentally, because he didn’t know what to do. But Badur knew.

She extended her right hand and slowly stroked his face and jaw, then her fingers brushed softly against Faramir’s lips that parted in a moan. Then her hand went all the way down to his shoulder, and gradually, very gradually, she drew her arms around his torso. Faramir hesitated before hugging her, but once he started, he couldn’t stop. And when she rubbed his back, his hands started roaming hers, tenderly and deliriously; when her lips softly kissed his neck, then his jaw, then his mouth, he thought he would faint; the feeling of her tongue inside his mouth was like the perfect incarnation of paradise and eternal bliss that did not wane; he lost track of time and wished he could stand forever in that position. When Badur drew back and gestured toward a mattress, he followed eagerly and unconsciously; who knew if she had put it there on purpose, though Badur liked to have mattresses everywhere just to lie in the sun. Anyway, it was handy; and then she started pulling their clothes off, and their bodies entwined in ways he would never have thought possible, until he could no longer tell where hers finished and his began.

“I can understand why in Gondor people who will do this with each other are meant to stay together for life,” said Faramir in a hushed voice as the sun rose over their naked bodies. “It is so beautiful and intense I have no words for it.”

Badur laughed merrily.

“What we did is not what people marry for. That was just cuddling and exploring. We have not mated yet.”

Faramir did not answer at once. He did know vaguely about what being husband and wife involved, and that it had to do with producing heirs, but that knowledge had been gained through unofficial sources, such as half-understood jokes, boasts and whispered confidences among young soldiers. He didn’t know how much of it he could trust to be true and he didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of Badur, not yet again. Besides, there were more important questions to ask.

“What do you mean by ‘yet’?”

“Well, I do hope it will happen before you go,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “As you know, here in Harad you do not need to marry me for that.” She stretched herself. “I could have done it last night though, I really feel like it. Ah well…”

“We can do it then,” said Faramir. She had given him so much, he wanted her to get whatever she would like in return.

“Nay, it is your first time, I want you to enjoy it thoroughly. You have such a capacity for feeling and appreciating what you are about to discover, it would be unforgivable of me to rush you through it.”

He nodded, not knowing the full meaning of her words, but understanding the kindness and the affection that lay in them. She kissed him lazily.

“You seem thoughtful.”

“What would happen if you had a child? Without us being married?”

“You are thoughtful,” she laughed, but her eyes shone. “Well, there are precautions that can be taken, so that usually a pregnancy can be avoided. I have been mating for years and have never had a baby yet. Still, there is always the risk, so I asked Jahel what would happen if I had offspring by you. It is no great problem to raise a child here, and I don’t mind pregnancy as long as it comes once in a while and not every year; but you being a ruler’s son in a country with different customs, I didn’t know what that would imply. So, if it was a girl, she would remain here, to be raised as my heir; if it was a boy, it would be up to you, to take him to Gondor or to leave him here with us. In any case, the child would grow in honour and love in this house, and you could visit whenever you wanted.”

“Thank you,” was the only thing that Faramir could say. He still had to get used to the fact that everything connected with bodies, that in Gondor was awkward and fraught with dangers, was easy and provided for by law and customs here.

Days passed swiftly, filled with exhausting but enjoyable exercise, as Badur taught Faramir Haradrim ways to fight and ride. Evenings were devoted to another kind of lessons that made both of them ecstatically happy. As Badur had foreseen, it took several sleepless nights for Faramir’s wonder to subside and for him to get used enough to the new sensations to start feeling fresh urges. Then she showed him many ways to enjoy intercourse while avoiding pregnancy, like forgoing the most natural penetration and, to put it bluntly, get the cock into the arse instead (something that also served for sex between men); or to satisfy each other just through touch and mouth, or to wait for certain days of the month, or to draw back at the last moment, although these two, she told him, were not always entirely reliable. Also a man could learn to climax without spilling his seed. Faramir listened, and learned, and each night made him more confident and passionate, until Badur, who had found him maddeningly careful at first, was fully sated by his reckless ardour, and their lovemaking resembled mating between young lions, joyful and wild and strong, and it left marks on their bodies that made them both laugh afterwards. And Faramir’s soul stepped out into the sun where Badur’s was waiting, and they met and their meeting was like the binding of two stars.

But regardless of what was happening between them, the world outside still grew older, and so the day came when all the clan chiefs who were friends of Jahel met secretly in the oasis, and talked about what they were doing against the threat of Sauron, and promised to give Faramir what useful information they could gather about the Enemy’s movements and his plans. Then there were a few more days to spend with Badur while the chieftains went back to their respective fiefs and collected reports; but when all the messages were sent and received at Jahel’s oasis, it was time for Faramir to go.

Farewells between him and Badur were short and uttered with a friendly smile; none but them knew what tears and grief had suffused their last night of love. And Faramir went back to Gondor, and kept the memory of his time in Harad as a precious fire to warm his heart in times of darkness. And now, even as he recalled the white house and the sound of the fountains and Badur’s smile as she lay lazily in the sun, blithe from lovemaking, a dreadful longing seized him to be back in Harad. But he understood that, had the land remained the place of love and freedom it was when he went there, Badur would never had fled to Gondor. The way to happiness, if it still existed, lay in front of him, across the shadow of the Nameless Land; and with a sigh Faramir turned his mind from the past and focused it on the problem at hand.

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.

Chapter 5. A new hope

Faramir sat unmoving as Badur’s fingers explored his face. The thought of doing something that would stir the memories of their last contact held him paralyzed with fear. So intense was his desire to feel loved and forgiven in her arms, and so strong the hope awakened by her kiss and gaze, that he didn’t think the moment he moved he would be able to control his reactions. After a moment, Badur’s caresses stopped.

“What is the matter, Faramir? You are just letting yourself be touched.”

“I so much dread to do anything that would make you think I took things for granted.”

“Do not fear, my love. Here – do it.”

And she lay on the ground, hands behind her head, her eyes smiling at him. Slowly Faramir ran one hand over her cheek, her jaw line, her neck, tracing one gentle finger between her breasts and over her left hip. His hand cupped the curve of her body and he sighed. His other hand went around her neck and tangled itself into warm, black hair. He seized a handful of her mane and brought it to his lips, inhaling the scent of it deeply. Then he lay down beside her, took Badur’s face between his hands and, pushing back an image of himself sneering at her in the cavern, he kissed her lips.

They opened in welcome, but Faramir drew back, kissing her softly and quietly all over her face. Beneath his restraint and his infinite tenderness Badur could sense that all his passion was intact, heightened by years of starvation. A hot tremor ran down her belly, and she put her arms round Faramir’s back. The young man allowed her to pull him close and their lips met. Their tongues greeted each other warmly, and though their slowness at first told of wariness and unspoken fears, each touch showed them that they were home, that their friend was still the same, and that bliss was right there if they dared to take it – not too rashly, though, for it was fragile and too precious to be risked for anything in the world.

“How I have missed this,” sighed Badur, her fingers roaming over Faramir’s sides. “You’ve got scars. You’ve grown older. I am so sorry that you should have suffered pain.”

“The same is true of you. Scars you have, though they have not marred your body.”

And while he said this, his fingers delicately undid Badur’s clothes, revealing her skin in the gathering night.

“You are still so beautiful,” he whispered.

“And you,” she replied, smiling. Faramir took out his cloak and spread it so that they could both lie comfortably on it. They were now naked, and his desire was steadily increasing, but he was not in any hurry. He brushed Badur’s skin with the tip of his fingers, searching for any sign of discomfort that might still arise from touch in the parts he had so ill-treated the other night. If Badur felt pain, she didn’t show it. Her face contracted very slightly from time to time, but it could as well be from pleasure. Very gently she ran her fingers over Faramir’s back, careful not to bruise the cuts she had made a day earlier.

“I had forgotten how maddeningly slow you could be,” she teased. Faramir looked hurt. Badur’s eyes filled with tears and she spoke anxiously. “I didn’t mean to grieve you. I understand why you do it. It was just a way of saying that I desire you and to reassure you that you were not going too fast.” Still Faramir looked dejected, so Badur put her arms around his neck and hugged him tight.

“My love, my Faramir,” she whispered, stroking his hair. “Take the time you need. It’s just that all these years, amidst all the hardships and fears the memory of you was the one ray of light I held onto. When I met you, and you tortured me and I thought that you had betrayed all I believed in… well, that was a great blow. That one shining memory shattered… I was so relieved when I understood it wasn’t true, but I guess I was still shaken, and angry, and just miserable and in need of comfort…” She stopped. “Stars, my heart is burdened. Do you wish to hear more about it?”

“Please,” he said, his eyes intent.

“Even after I believed you, I still felt resentful. I had felt, and I still did, so vulnerable and so weak… Seeing you suffer made much to heal my wounds, though, and to lessen my anger. And I was surprised at my gladness to be with you again. Your company gave me joy greater than I had expected. And that brought back memories, and I started to miss your tenderness and love. Gradually, I came to accept you as my lover again, but you were so distant, you didn’t pay any attention to me. Of course, I thought, for all I knew you might be married now, or engaged.”

He looked like he was going to say something in denial, but she shook her head to stop him from speaking and went earnestly on.

“I told myself not to entertain idle wishes, to focus on the more important things that were at stake. But the wish wouldn’t leave me, and… what I mean is, I understand that you have your own fears and regrets to fight, and I’ll respect it if it takes you three months to lie with me, but all that has happened has shaken me too, and I feel awfully hungry for love and forgetfulness. And besides, you’re so desirable you’re making me crazy with want. There.”

And she fell silent, and looked at Faramir with those great coal eyes that he had never been able to resist. Two pearls glided over his cheeks. He could not speak. Instead, he took action, hugging her as warmly and closely as he could, and she hid her face in the curve of his neck and wept as he covered her shoulder in kisses. Then he brushed away the hair from her face and kissed her as fiercely, as demandingly as she had ever dreamed of. His tongue travelled swiftly to one of her nipples and she cried. His leg glided deftly between hers and her thighs hugged it in long-repressed need. Faramir cast his head backwards to look at her intently.

“The fact is,” he said detachedly, “I was wondering if I could still make you cry with pleasure.”

She laughed. His fingers treaded again over her chest, tangled themselves in her small navel, reached the dark bush below and found the fountain in the middle of it. She was slick with desire. He thought she became tense for a moment as his hand touched her there, and instantly slowed down, fearing again the intrusion of awful memories. Gently, softly, he stroked her skin, until she relaxed again, almost as if she were going to sleep. Then his fingers became pressing and she was moaning again. Swift as a cat, she rolled on her side and engulfed the head of his sex within her mouth. He gasped. Then her hand replaced her tongue and in a few skillful strokes she had him ready to come. He spilled, knowing that that was what she wanted. She ran her fingers over the sticky fluid and laughed.

“The sacred essence of love fertilizes the ground,” she said. The ancestral words with which her people ritualized the act of coupling came out of her lips as a private joke. Faramir smiled and kissed her effusively. When their lips parted, she was slightly out of breath.

“My job to arouse you again,” she said, and resumed a slow tasting of his private parts that was as pleasurable for him as for her. Face up, resting on his elbows to prevent his sore back from touching the ground, Faramir could sense her excitement. He knew she was going after her own pleasure now. Indeed, when lapping at the tip of his sex was not enough for her any more, she straddled one of his legs, rubbing her inner entrance against his skin and her nipples on his chest. Faramir fell back on the ground as his arms gripped her tightly, thus ceasing to hold him up. Badur tangled her tongue feverishly into his own, and holding his sex steadily in one hand, she climaxed.

They lay side by side, almost motionless, Faramir slowly caressing her body, dallying overlong on her buttocks.

“Upon my word, you are going to wear them out,” she laughed after a while.

“Funny you should say that just now,” he said, and rolled between her legs. “I was just thinking there was another visit I really shouldn’t delay any longer.”

Badur gasped as his hot tongue passed swiftly over her labia. The visit he paid was indeed long, attentive and most delightful. Faramir’s tongue teased, but not with words. There was no jesting nuance in his voice when he said that he desired to bury his cock inside her, and requested permission to be on top.

“For, as you know, my back is rather sensitive at the moment,” he smiled.

Badur laughed, but kindly.

“Come, my lover,” she said, in the traditional words of Haradrim women. Once more, her tongue glided swiftly over Faramir’s cock, and then she guided him in. It stretched her muscles at first after much time without lying with a man, but after a while she found she wanted stronger sensations.

“How would you like to come into my arse?” she moaned. Faramir drew out and slowly, very slowly, entered her more delicate and narrow channel. It just felt so good. Like they used to, they ended up forgetting all caution and coupling savagely. Badur’s fingers dug into Faramir’s back, drawing fresh blood from his wounds without him noticing. Faramir’s fingers dug hard into her fore entrance without her thinking once of his violence in the Orcs’ cavern. He rammed her bottom until they both came with cries that carried far into the night.
Faramir fell over Badur and laughed heartily.

“I love you, my redoubtable lioness. My back is on fire. What have you been doing?”

“You know me… Besides, I wonder which of us is the more redoubtable. I feel like I won’t be able to sit for a week.”

Laughing they went down to the fountain, and washed themselves. The water felt cool and refreshing after their lovemaking. Lying closely together in the cavern, drying themselves with their mutual heat, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

The night was short, and at dawn they made ready to leave the refuge. Badur was already heading for the path when Faramir forestalled her.

“Whatever happens from now on,” he said, “I want you to know that I will love you always. Ever since I first met you, I have seen you as the embodiment of love and desire and all that feels good and innocent and fair. Last night with you was a gift for which I am ineffably grateful.”

“I have long known,” she answered, “that you are the man I would have chosen to live with, if I had had my way. No other lover has ever pleased me as you have, or made me feel so well-loved or admired. No one can ever hold your place in my heart. Though you knew it not, you saved my life long before I was captured by the Orcs.”

They set out by the first rays of the sun and after several hours of swift going they came to the Rangers’ main camp in Ithilien. There they stopped for lunch and news. The arrival of the captain with a beautiful woman after two days of unexplained absence was a surprising sight to say the least, and Badur thought it was a sign of the men’s respect and trust in Faramir that in spite of some grins no questions or remarks were heard. Though perhaps the stern, dangerous look in Faramir’s eyes also had something to do with it. Faramir gave a brief account to his lieutenant of what had happened, told him to assume command until new orders came, and then he and Badur left on horseback for Minas Tirith.

Day was ending when they sighted their destination. Badur halted, taking in the prodigious beauty of the White City gleaming in the sunset.

“I wish you could have seen it under more auspicious circumstances,” said Faramir. Badur leaned towards him, brushing his shoulder with her head.

“I am glad to have seen it at all. Do not be afraid.”

They went up right away to the Citadel, where Faramir named himself, thus proving his identity to the Lady Badur. They parted with a bow; she was escorted to a guest room, while he headed directly to Denethor’s presence. The Steward had already been warned of his arrival.

Faramir explained he had rescued Badur from the Orcs, asked for asylum for her and that obtained, proceeded to recount all that had happened. Denethor’s wrath was boundless when he learned that Faramir had given his mother’s portrait to rescue Badur and that his true identity had been mentioned by her in front of the Orcs.

“It is hard to say which shows the more impudence: to have kept this jewel against my express orders, or to have given it away rashly to a band of Orcs!”

“It was the only way to obtain her release, father. Do you mean that, being able to save her, I should have let her die that horrible death? An ally, and a noble woman?”

“Of course you should, rather than compromise your mission! We are at war. How can a woman represent more to you than the lives of all who depend on your discipline and caution? You have carefully secured my promise to protect her before telling me of the facts I might not agree to. Are you in love with her?”

Faramir, whose face had gone pale at his father’s reproach, hesitated.

“I care for her, yes.”

“A woman’s love should never get in the way of your duty!”

“My love for her was not the reason.”

“What was it then?”

“I couldn’t let her die. It seemed… dishonourable.”

“Dishonourable, indeed! Since when do you decide what is honourable, rather than following your Steward’s orders?”

“Since that night, it would seem,” answered Faramir quietly.

“It is clear to me that you’ve had too much freedom so far. I have looked upon your independence of spirit far too leniently and this is the result. I want your word that from now on you will obey my commands without contest and, when in doubt, you will do exactly as you think I should have done.”

“Forgive me, father…”

“You will return at once to the Rangers’ camp and resume your mission. You’d better contrive a way to earn back the Orcs’ trust, if they have found you out. I do not want to see you again until you have regained the locket. To think that you dared to keep it against my will…!”

“Forgive me, father, and hear me out. I… will not resume this mission.” Faramir’s demeanour was gentle and his voice a bit low, but it didn’t falter.

Denethor stabbed him with his glance, unable to admit what he had just heard.

“I truly mean it. I will not be a spy again. I will not utter a single lie again in my life. I will not torture another being, be it even an Orc and whatever the good of the purpose. I will negotiate with the Orcs to get back the locket, which is dear to me, and if they will not accept, I will kill every Orc in Ithilien. If we hadn’t associated with them, they would never have taken Badur captive. It will not happen again within my jurisdiction.”

“And what” said Denethor in a venomous voice “makes you think that you’re going out from here to captain the Rangers again, instead of being thrown into the dungeons or over the battlements as I have a good mind to command?”

“That is for you to decide, father,” said Faramir serenely. “But if you send me back as a captain of Rangers, I will do as I have told you.”

“Be careful who you are rebelling against, son,” said Denethor, trembling with wrath. “Either you beg forgiveness immediately and do as you are told, or that friend of yours will perish this hour. By fire, if nothing else will move you.”

Faramir paled. “That is unjust, my father.”

“I have a realm in my care, and I will not be defied by my own son. Make your choice.”

Faramir bent a knee. His countenance was deathly pale, but also as determined as his father’s. His voice trembled a little.

“My choice is made. I will not retract it.”

“You sentence Badur to death.”

“No, father. You do it.” It cost him a great effort, but the words were steady.

“You could save her.”

“Under such conditions, I choose not to do so.”

“Very well. Go away.”

Faramir bowed and left without another word. After pacing the room in furious thought for some time, Denethor sat down again and sent for Badur.

He insulted her, threatened her, cajoled her, but could not obtain her help to persuade Faramir to change his mind.

“He will be executed if he persists in his mutiny. I can see that you love him. Is it of no consequence to you whether he lives or dies?”

“It is of great consequence to me.”

“Then why not use your influence over him to save his life?”

“I do not know that any influence that I could have would be stronger than the call of his duty. If he has ignored that, then I doubt there is anything in existence with power enough to make him change his mind. If there is, it is certainly greater than you or me.”

And nothing Denethor said could make her budge on the matter.

Faramir was imprisoned in his room. He knew nothing of Badur’s fate, and he missed her. He was glad to have followed his own heart in spite of his father’s threats, but he wished in his heart of hearts that his present situation wouldn’t endure for too long. He couldn’t help but worry for Badur at day, and at night he kept having horrible nightmares about the Orcs’ cavern.

In his chamber high up in the cold of night, Denethor gazed into the palantír of the Kings. Faramir was screaming in his sleep. For the third night in a row, he had relived in his dreams the events that had brought Badur and him to Minas Tirith, and his father had been watching him earnestly, his eyes never leaving the young man’s face. Faramir relaxed and Denethor’s fingers glided over the Stone. The image changed and he saw Badur, also asleep in the guest room where she was a prisoner. Her sleep was uneasy at times, but no cries came out from her lips, nor could any sweat be seen on her brow. Clearly their ordeal had affected her less than him. She muttered Faramir’s name and smiled, without waking up.

Denethor sighed and bent his gaze further away, to the North where Boromir was in campaign against the Shadow. He watched his first-born inspecting the camp before he went to sleep. Boromir’s demeanour was proud, confident and strong-willed, as always. Boromir wouldn’t approve of Faramir’s incarceration. There was not much Denethor dreaded in this world, but he did not like crossing his elder son. To Boromir, Faramir’s well-being was a matter of the utmost importance. He might admit to himself that Faramir’s behaviour had been foolish, but still he would demand his release loudly – if he knew.

But he would know, of course. As soon as he came to the city. And he would not be glad. Two unhappy sons were perhaps more than Denethor could risk in the war against the Enemy.

The Lord of Gondor stood up and closed his eyes. Then he turned to someone who was always behind him, someone whom he did not need the Stone to see. She did not belong to the world of mortals – not any more.

What would you do?

The fair face of Finduilas comforted him with its reassuring smile and its affectionate, trusting gaze. Her countenance was kind, but there was no mistaking what she thought of the matter.

Denethor sighed. Ever since she had died, he had listened to her advice. Once more, he rued not doing so before she died. His voice was but a whisper.

“I will.”

Faramir watched from the battlements as Badur approached him. His smile was so wide as to make his jaws hurt, but he didn’t care. She joined him and they embraced as siblings.

“I am glad to see you,” he said, expressing but poorly what he felt.

“I’m glad to see that you’re Captain of the Rangers again,” she replied with a huge grin.

“I am to resume my command in a few days,” he confirmed. Then he looked her up and down. “What’s with the Ranger garb?”

Badur glanced at her new clothes.

“Just thought I’d try it on. Your father sent it. He told me I could work with the resistant networks in lands occupied by the Enemy. Not anywhere near you, though.”

“He would do that,” he smiled, passing over the other thoughts that came to his mind. He told me nothing of this. She has been spared. But it is deadly work. He might as well have killed her directly. What the hell did you expect? We’ve made it. Both of us, free, in Minas Tirith. Free. I will never act against my own heart again.

“A strange man,” said Badur. “He forbids us to be together, yet he reinstates you as commander and places me under your orders. After you have rebelled against him.”

True enough. Yet we will do as he wishes and separate. His father allowed them a certain freedom, but Faramir knew he would expect obeisance nonetheless. Nor was he intent on defying Denethor again. He would make sure to send her where she could be useful – and as safe as he could ask her to be. He held Badur against him and they stood in the sun, looking over the battlements to the lands where they would soon be fighting the Enemy. As he stroke Badur’s hair affectionately, Faramir thought of the dangers looming ahead – and for all that might be in store for he and Badur, he felt happy.

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