Faramir Fiction Archive

Trail of Tears (R)

Written by Kissa

21 June 2008 | 6893 words

Chapter 2

After the brief hours Faramir allowed himself to rest, but only after understanding that he would be of no use tired, he snapped awake and looked around, for a few moments forgetting where he was.

Then Mablung came into view, bringing a hot infusion made of some refreshing herbs.

Faramir obediently drank it and after gathering what they needed for the road, the three Rangers left the safety of their outpost in search of the Steward’s lost son.

Faramir’s mind was racing with thoughts of what could have happened to Boromir. He might have been held hostage by the Haradhrim, being tortured or submitted to deprivation and humiliation, or left to leave and then hunted down like an animal in the woods; they might have left him for dead in some ravine or… perhaps they had buried him under some unmarked tree, not even bothering to check if he was dead or still alive… Faramir almost cried as he walked behind Mablung, but he quickly composed himself and reassured his mind saying that the connection he shared to his brother was still there, intact, and in his heart he knew Boromir had called to him for help and that his brother was waiting for him, needing his help.

Sometimes his very hard to bear gift – the visions – actually paid off.

Faramir could only hope he was right.

Since they had left on foot, not wanting to worry about the horses as well, they only managed to cover a small distance, the part of the forest where everything was relatively quiet because they were still very close to land they controlled.

However, as soon as they approached the main road to Harad, they became more alert to odd and off noises around them. Faramir felt watched.

It proved, in the end, that they were – an Orc arrow flew right past Faramir’ nose, burying itself into a nearby tree on his left.

Orcs? Since when did Orcs prowl those woods freely? The thought crossed Faramir’s mind swiftly as he drew his first arrow and released it toward the source of the threat.

They have either left a trail of corpses through the villages of Harad they crossed or… – and the thought alarmed him more than the imminent fear of death – Harad has made an alliance with the lord of Mordor.

Now he knew he had to live; someone had to warn his father and the military council!

Although he fought fiercely, he could not prevent Ohtar from falling; the Ranger had been tricked and overpowered – they were seriously outnumbered.

“Faramir, behind you!” Mablung shouted and Faramir avoided an Orc’s blade which nearly impaled him, watching powerlessly as the blade slid into Mablung’s side… The old Ranger had turned to defend his front, and as Faramir had moved out of the way, his back had remained uncovered…

Faramir froze into place, watching the blood gurgle out of his old comrade’s mouth as Mablung fell to his knees.

“Run, Fara, save yourself!” the Ranger spoke with great difficulty, the words costing him his last strength.

Faramir ran back into the safety of the thick forest into the direction he had come from and the more he ran, the more he sped up, not looking back, feeling tears streak his cheeks.

He had just lost two comrades, one of which he called friend… he had been a Ranger for a while now, he had not been made a Captain the day before and he had seen men fall – yet none from his company; not good, warm Mablung!

He saw the entrance to a cave, camouflaged behind some fallen tree trunks and smaller rocks and he climbed toward it, hoping that whatever had dwelt in there had long died or migrated towards richer hunting grounds. Just to be on the safe side, he drew his short sword and carefully stepped inside.

The smell of blood hung heavily in the air, mingling with the scent of fresh mud and… something else, Faramir could not name it, but the scent was familiar. As he advanced and the scent got stronger, he recognized it. Gondorian healing salve! Every soldier carried a small box with him, and because it was made from herbs which only grew in Gondor, the smell was unmistakable. Faramir had used it himself so often in the recent past! He blushed at the thought that in most of those cases, it had not been for healing purposes.

The next few steps took him around a curve inside the cave and lying on a bed of leaves and twigs on which he had spread his rain cloak, lay his brother Boromir, barely recognizable from the massive injuries…

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