Faramir Fiction Archive

The Price (R)

Written by Minx

28 February 2003 | 34809 words

Chapter 4

Faramir was deep in a sleep he wanted to awaken from desperately for all he saw over and over again in a silent nightmare was Fenekor’s face and then a pain would explode in him as a weight would descend on his slender body. Each time he would feel the fear and pain as Fenekor entered him. He only rose when a hand gripped him and shook him awake fiercely. Through sleep-clouded eyes, he could vaguely make out his father’s form looming over him. Consciousness was yet to return fully, but the searing pain did not go unfelt. Too tired to verbalize his pain, he was even less ready for the shouting and then his father’s hand rose, and fell on his abused face.

And then came the noise of more shouting.

Boromir.

He was pulled into someone’s arms, spent, exhausted and in pain so severe that everything else was forgotten.

The sound of the slap had brought Boromir out of his shock-induced state and he had rushed out for fear of his brother. The sight that met him angered him greatly. His brother’s limp form was being held up by Denethor, who in his furious rage was raising his hand again to get his silent son to answer him.

“You fool! Thanks to your folly —”

“What are you doing?” Boromir lashed out at the steward, grabbing his upraised arm with one hand, and tugging at his brother with another. He pushed away Denethor’s arm, and turned his attention to the one he held. Dragged into the light, the injuries on Faramir were clearly visible.

“He is hurt!” Boromir spat out angrily, and picking the semi-conscious form laid him gently on the threadbare couch near the fireplace.

“He has been beaten, and — and—” Boromir bit back a sob.

“He has endangered Gondor!” Denethor shouted, and turned away to face the window.

“No!” Faramir’s faint voice rang out. They turned to see his eyes open, tired, but open, and clouded with pain and sorrow.

“No, I did all you asked,” he gasped out. His body was on fire. Pain resounded in every muscle and every bone. He could not even sit properly.

“What did you do?” Boromir asked anxiously.

But neither father nor brother seemed to hear him for Denethor continued to stand in the shadows his voice lashing out at his younger son, while facing away from him.

“Did I ask you to hit Captain Fenekor, you worthless idiot? To draw blood?”

“Father!”

“No, my lord, it was an accident,” Faramir’s voice was getting fainter still and wavering, and tinged with what Boromir realised almost immediately was fear.

“You hit him, he says, and refused to do as he asked,” Denethor spat out, “Coward!”

Boromir took a step forward, “You speak in riddles, this is not the time. Faramir is ailing, my lord, and I would call a healer.”

“Ailing? So he should, when the white city is destroyed tomorrow, we can all ail with him!”

“My lord!” Faramir raised himself, ignoring Boromir’s cry of annoyance, and his own body’s protests, “I swear to you, I did all he asked, would you not trust me, your own son, to speak the truth?” Faramir sounded terrible, and raw pain laced his voice now. Haldir who had been standing silently by took a step towards the couch, but stopped short as Denethor’s voice cut through sharply.

“You are no son of mine.”

Faramir simply gave a strangled sob in response.

“Father!” Boromir sounded as though he wanted to strangle Denethor. Instead he sat by Faramir holding the trembling young man.

“My son would give his life for Gondor,” Denethor continued mercilessly, still facing away from his sons.

“I would,” Faramir cried, “You ask for body and soul and I gave up both, what more do you ask? My life? You have it my lord for I can live with this shame and humiliation no more!”

“Who did this to you?” Boromir’s voice came icily calm.

“You gave up your body you say? For Gondor? Then why says Fenekor otherwise? He says you resist him, and you hit him and left?”

“Fenekor!” Boromir shouted, “Fenekor did this to you?”

Denethor turned suddenly, “Did what?”

“And you knew?” Boromir raged.

Denethor walked up to the couch, and then for the first time in all that while saw his younger son’s condition.

“Fenekor hit you?” he said slightly horrified at the bruises lividly standing out in a pale face.

“He raped him!” Boromir screamed, “And with your leeway.” He launched himself at Denethor, only to be stopped by a strong arm.

“Do not be foolish, Boromir. Your brother was his price for allying his troop with us against Harad. And little price.”

Boromir seethed speechless in anger.

“But that he would go so far as to hurt your brother like this, I did not realise,” Denethor leant towards Faramir, and opened the bindings holding the long robe in place. Faramir flushed as his chest was exposed bandaged and bruised. He tried to push away his father’s inquiring hands, and made to move off the couch, to be stopped by Haldir who grabbed him and sat him down.

Denethor blanched at the sight of the marks that covered his son’s torso, the spots of blood on a bandage covering the wound from the whip standing out against the black and blue skin.

He reached a hand for his son’s face and brushed a stray strand of hair away. Faramir flushed again, unused to such a display of concern from his usually taciturn father.

“You let someone and that too a Haradrim have your son as payment?” Boromir shouted again.

“Yes,” Denethor rose.

In Haldir’s arms, Faramir started to shake, tears flowing down his face.

“How could you? A Haradrim, a filthy Haradrim? And my brother?”

“If the need be, I would let an orc take your brother, if it meant saving Gondor!” Denethor spat out.

Faramir gave a distressed cry at that. Fenekor’s words hit him with a vengeance.

How many more had your father given you to?

Haldir tightened his grip around the trembling young man in his arms. The unfolding events were leaving a bitter state in his mouth.

“Father, you should leave now, please send for a healer. I will be here with Faramir all day and possibly all night,” Boromir replied with a strange calm that belied his true feelings.

“No,” Faramir whispered, struggling to get out of Haldir’s arms, “Not a healer, I will not let anyone see me like this, no, please no,” he sobbed. Pain clouded his mind, threatening to send him over a deep dark abyss and he fought to stay awake.

“Very well, Boromir will see to your injuries,” Denethor said and strode towards the door.

“F- fa- My lord?” Faramir spoke up again, his eyes tinged with anxiety.

“Yes?”

“What of the captain? Will he – what will you-?” I cannot anymore, not anymore…

“I do not know,” Denethor said sighing, “But you will not have to go to him again, that I can assure you, I did not think he would hurt you so badly.”

“You must be joking!” Boromir shouted out again, “What did you think he would do to Faramir? Give him a hug and a sweet and send him back to his room?”

“You will not understand, Boromir, but you must, for you must also learn that Gondor should have the first place in your heart. Faramir, rest and recover your strength, I will have your meals sent to your room, and inform the servants that you are ill and not to be disturbed.” With that the steward swept out of the room.

Boromir moved to the door too, his hands clenched tight, he felt like hitting his father, and killing Fenekor and… the small cry from the couch stopped him. He turned to his brother his face a mask of remorse and sorrow, tears filling up his eyes and spilling onto his cheeks, when he saw the forlorn young man lying in his friend’s arms. Faramir stared back at him, and then pushing Haldir’s hands away with unexpected force rose, and stumbled into his brother’s arms.

They stood there for a long time, taking comfort in each other’s presence, just being close to his elder brother giving Faramir the strength to stand.

Oh Boromir, I know you’ll keep him away, I’m scared, it’s stupid and cowardly, but I’m scared, and if Gondor falls it will be because of me…

Haldir watched them, his heart ached for the younger, who seemed torn between duty and self, who so obviously did what he did, not just out of duty but out of need for filial love. Little things like the lack of conversation between father and son, the desolate location of Faramir’s room had not escaped his notice. Everyone else liked Faramir much, his brother, the servants, the people loved the two brothers equally. All but Denethor, it seemed. Denethor was quite simply indifferent.

Which was a pity because the boy, no the young man, was indeed likeable, he seemed intelligent, sensitive, brave, not built like a warrior though. He was slight of build but surely a few seasons with the rangers would change that. The slight figure must have been what attracted Fenekor’s attention, Haldir decided, and the finely chiseled mouth, and those beautiful grey eyes, they look wise and far-seeing, like one with elvish blood in him, from his mother, no doubt – Valar what am I thinking? I am no better than the fool captain from Harad to analyse his body like this. I should be helping.

Boromir was still holding his brother in his arms, tears pouring down his own cheeks.

“I did not realise yesterday, did that -, did he – ?” Boromir could barely complete the sentence, as Faramir nodded and then buried his head in his shoulder. He instinctively tightened his hold on the slim figure of the younger man.

“Oh, Faramir, I am sorry, I should have realised,” he started off, hugging his brother tighter only to be cut off by a gasp from the younger man, “What is it?” he asked alarmed.

Faramir raised his head, grey eyes clearly showing he was hurting badly, ”Naught, it is just my back.”

“Oh,” he loosened his grip, and then carefully adjusted his arms so that he would not hurt his brother’s injured body more.

Haldir rose, not missing the fact that Faramir looked on the verge of collapse, and Boromir looked terrible too, “Come, you must rest now,” he told the younger one, and pulled him away a little. Faramir nodded, and began to sag slightly as Borormir’s hands left him. The next minute his brother had picked him up and carried him back to bed. Haldir went quietly into the small antechamber.

“Haldir is right, sleep now,” he said soothingly and leaned down to brush his forehead with a small kiss.

“Sleep does not come,” Faramir said tonelessly.

Boromir placed a hand on the dark hair, and sighed, “It will, little one, it will.”

“Perhaps Boromir should stay here for the rest of the day,” Haldir suggested,” Here, have some of this brew, it will help you sleep.” He handed the young man on the bed, a small cup full of a thick liquid.

Faramir glanced up, it was as if he was realizing for the first time that Haldir was there for hew flushed uncomfortably, “I am sorry, Haldir, to have caused you all this needless trouble.”

That Faramir was embarrassed to have been in such a position before a relative stranger was painfully obvious. He seemed very distressed at the thought, so the elf leaned forward, and placing a hand on one shoulder, said quietly, “It is no needless trouble to be of service to you Faramir, Boromir is a very good friend, I am sure he would not hesitate before doing anything for me, and I merely reciprocate the sentiment. Now sleep, you are in no condition to debate on trivialities.”

“Thank you indeed Haldir,” Boromir said as he sat on the bed watching his brother’s light sleep after a while, “He sleeps now, but not peacefully, I feel. I will be by him for the rest of the day. He needs me.”

“You cannot stay up all day and night,” Haldir told him quietly, “there is a council tomorrow. Will you not let me help you further, and watch him awhile while you sleep?”

Boromir sighed, “You are being too kind. I would not like to impose, but you are correct too, so I will accept your offer. Although, I must admit I am loathe to attend the council on the morrow, for I do not see any likelihood of Faramir getting better by then. He has been through much, and If Fenekor is there, I will probably rip him apart for doing this!”

“Peace my friend,” Haldir said softly.

“How could he, Haldir? How could father do this to him? Doe he not see his pain and his suffering? My poor little one, he looks so terrible.”

There was a quiet sob from the bed and both elf and man rushed to the sleeping man’s side to assuage whatever nightmare seemed to be bothering him.

“Get some more of the brew, Boromir, it is in the other room,” Haldir said urgently as he took the flushed face of the sleeping man in his hands and tried to quiet him. Boromir ran to the antechamber, leaving Haldir with the younger man, softly sobbing away.

Haldir found that a soothing litany of elvish words calmed him down sooner than anything else, and suddenly began to croon a soft slow melody, all the while stroking his hand. Faramir’s face relaxed and he slipped back into a quiet sleep and Haldir continued to hold his hand, lightly caressing the long fingers and watching him.

They spent the day taking turns with Faramir, who woke up just once. He was groggy and was immediately fed a few spoonfuls of a drugged soup that sent him back to sleep again. When he awoke the next time, it was at night, and Boromir had gone to fetch some more healing herbs for Faramir’s stock had depleted. He awoke when the effect of the herbs had worn out, with a startlingly fresh memory of everything that had happened, as though he had not slept at all, and finding Haldir next to his bed gave him a look fraught with confusion and worry.

Haldir gave him a reassuring smile, “how do you feel? Boromir has just gone to get some herbs.”

Faramir tried to return the smile, “I don’t feel very hungry. I am alright, merely a little weary.”

Little, Haldir felt was an understatement. Dark circles lined the young man’s eyes, neatly complementing the ugly bruises on his face. Tiredness and pain shone intensely in the slate grey eyes, and lines around the mouth.

“The pain —?”

“I am well. The pain is little.”

That, my young friend, is not what your eyes tell me, Haldir thought but forbore to say aloud.

“You are tired? Then go back to sleep, my friend, it will do you good,” he said instead.

“I do not think I will be able to,” was the unhappy reply. Seeing Haldir’s distress at those words, he put one hand on the elf’s palm resting on his bed, and said quietly, “Will you not tell me about the Golden Wood?”

Haldir almost gasped at the tingling he felt when the man’s hand touched his. He could feel the calluses in the palm, an indication of much time spent handling weapons one was not entirely accustomed to, and he felt an irrational anger at the circumstances facing the land that forced hands that should have been touching books being forced to touch weapons that maimed and killed even if for a cause. And those bruises, still fresh from that terrible assault. Ai, he was young, too young. Why, Denethor, did you force him into this? Surely you could have refused? And the anger rose, further, but finally he swallowed his feelings and patting the hand atop his with his other hand began to speak softly.

The next ten minutes showed Haldir a little of the side of Faramir he had heard of. The grey eyes sparkled with the light of one who loves knowledge for its own sake as he fluently spoke of his home, and not without yearning for in the stones of Minas Tirth he missed the trees of his beloved Lórien. And Faramir seemed to understand for his eyes took on a look of compassion as Halidr went on telling him about his brothers, about the woods, about the lady.

Faramir’s eyes were closing, despite his unwillingness to sleep, and face fresh nightmares. Haldir softly stroked his head with his free hand, the other still lying loosely under the man’s hand.

“It sounds a nice place,” came the sleep tinged remark.

“It is beautiful,” Haldir responded.

“As our its inhabitants. Are all elves as beautiful as you?”

Haldir stopped short at those words, and then leaned forward only to see Faramir was nearly asleep. He suddenly realised Boromir should have returned by now, and began to wonder when he heard muffled sounds from outside and went to the window. Lights were coming on as torches began to be lit. A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. It was a servant with summons to the hall downstairs. Lord Boromir was there too. He turned hesitantly to the bed where Faramir lay, his eyes open for the knock had caught him just as he was falling into slumber.

“Go, Haldir, but would you ask Boromir if he would come when his work is done?”

“Certainly.”

Haldir left with the servant. Neither saw a figure detach itself from a nearby corridor, and walk slowly to Faramir’s door. Waiting outside listening to sounds of sleep, finally turning the handle on the door, and entering the room making straight for the bed, where his current infatuation lay.

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