Faramir Fiction Archive

Winter's Rest (R)

Written by Monica

09 March 2005 | 25774 words

Chapter Six

"That's…not possible." Faramir was barely aware that he spoke, all he could do was stare in shock at the wizard. His eyes flew to Elrond, and the Elf nodded, causing Faramir to gasp. "No," he said, his voice faint.

Gandalf was looking at the fire again, unable to meet the Steward's eyes. "I blame myself," he said heavily. "Your mother came to me for advice and comfort when Denethor turned her away. I should have never allowed for it to…" he stopped, shaking his head.

Faramir became aware that Elrond had pressed something into his hand and found himself holding a small glass. "Drink," the Elf said, his voice deep and calm. Faramir obeyed, and sipped the minuvor. It strengthened him and he took a steadying breath after finishing the glass.

"It was my fault it happened," Gandalf continued, his guilt visible. "I allowed myself to think that it was comforting her, but there is no excuse for what I did. I should have gently turned her away, but I did not. And when I next came to Minas Tirith, there was a new baby in the household of the Steward, and I realized what had happened."

Faramir stared at Gandalf. "You knew I was your child?" he said weakly.

Gandalf sighed. "Yes," he said. "When I first saw you, you were just a babe in a nurse's arms. But your eyes were as bright as anything in the hall." Without realizing it, the wizard's voice grew soft and fond with remembrance. "I recognized you immediately."

"Recognized me?" Faramir asked, puzzled.

"I recognized you as being part Istari," Gandalf said gently. "We look…different… to each other than as others see us. There is a certain light, or image, that Istari have."

Faramir frowned, and Gandalf saw the young prince look back and forth between the wizard and the Elf. He smiled at the puzzled look on the pale face. "Have you ever noticed something about me? A light perhaps, or some glow?"

"Yes," Faramir said slowly in wonder. "I thought…I thought that all could see it." He had long ago stopped noticing the faint glow that sometimes seemed to surround the wizard, thinking it was normal for one with magic powers.

"No, only an Istari can see it in another Istari. Thus I knew immediately that you were my son."

Faramir shook his head, trying to reconcile all the bizarre news. He looked at Elrond for assurance and the Elf inclined his head slightly. "Elves normally cannot see the light of the Istari, but there is something I detect in you that is missing from Men. Perhaps it is an effect of Vilya's powers." The Elf lord looked at the Ring that he still wore. "Its strength is dimming since the destruction of the One Ring, but some abilities linger."

"Your eyes see it clearly, my friend," Gandalf said. "And I would have known anyway that you were my son, Faramir. My heart told me the moment I saw you."

Faramir had to nearly remind himself to breathe. "Did my mother ever talk to you about…me?" he asked.

Gandalf sighed regretfully. "No. This may sound strange, but I truly do not think that she ever suspected that you were my child. Denethor did love her; he was still visiting her bed occasionally when he was not in the tower. It is also a long held belief that Istari cannot have children, a belief that your lady mother shared. When she introduced you to me there was no hint that she thought you could be my child." Faramir looked doubtful, and Gandalf smiled a bit sadly. "Her conscious was clear, Faramir. She may have felt guilt at lying with me one time, but she never thought that you were my child."

The Steward paused, uncertain how to phrase his next question. "Did my…father...know?" he asked, suddenly realizing that he did not know how to refer to Denethor. He felt as if he was smothering in confusion.

"No, he never suspected either," Gandalf answered. "No one knew what took place between your mother and I."

"But perhaps he wondered," Faramir said. He stared off into the flames of the fire. "Perhaps that is why he hated me so much," he whispered sadly.

"He did not hate you, Faramir," the wizard said. He knew the Man did not believe him and cursed the fact that Faramir was burdened with those beliefs. If such a thing was in his power, he would not hesitate to cause those thoughts to leave Faramir, but even an Istari could not interfere with memories.

"That's why you visited us so much," Faramir continued, slowly piecing things together in his mind. He had always so looked forward to those visits, feeling even as a child that there was something special in the wizard.

Gandalf nodded. "I needed to visit for business, and keep an eye on you. I could not admit to being your father at the time, but I did what I could to be there for you."

All the visits, the special gifts, Faramir thought. All the hours spent with the old wizard smoking his pipe and answering any questions the curious child had. Faramir had never failed to feel special when Mithrandir visited. It had truly been bright spots in his childhood. "Is this why everyone insisted I come here?" he finally managed to ask

"It was time for you to be told the truth of your parentage, Faramir. And as your wounds did truly require you to come here to heal, it was decided this would be the best time while you were away from Minas Tirith and all its memories."

"Does the king know?"

"I told him," Gandalf admitted. "Aragorn needed to know that you would be coping with yet another shock."

Faramir closed his eyes. No wonder Aragorn had looked at his Steward so curiously one night. Another thought occurred to the young man and he looked at Gandalf uncertainty. "I have wondered why you chose to save me from…the fire," he said hesitantly. "You wasted time that should have been spent going to the armies."

Gandalf looked up, his eyes suddenly angry. "I wasted time saving you?" he repeated, disbelief in his tone. "How have you gotten this insane notion? No, don't say it, I know who told you such nonsense." The old wizard was so angry he stood and began pacing around the room. "I've regretted many things in my time, and right now I regret nothing more than that I did not take you away from Denethor!"

"What?" Faramir was shocked yet again, his eyes wide. Even Elrond looked unsettled at that statement.

"How could you have done such a thing, Mithrandir," the Elf asked reasonably. "To reveal Faramir as your son would have also revealed his mother's one lapse, and her memory deserves better."

"I would not have had to say he was my son," Gandalf argued. "I could have persuaded Denethor to foster him to me, or better yet, to you. Faramir should have been brought to Rivendell."

"And that would have separated him from the brother he loved, and from the only home he knew," Elrond continued calmly. "Then he would not have been able to help Frodo when he did. Faramir's place was in Gondor."

Faramir's head turned back and forth, watching the conversation between the two with a detached fascination. "I would…not have wanted to leave," he said quietly, his voice uncertain. They heard him and it made the Elf and wizard turn their attention back to him.

"No, and you were needed elsewhere," Elrond agreed, casting a look at Gandalf. "We have discussed this before, Mithrandir. You should bear no guilt; you did everything you could and making Faramir's true parentage known would have put him at a even greater risk." He saw Faramir's eyes grow wide in understanding and nodded. "It could not be risked having anyone learn your ancestry, Faramir. No more than it could be risked revealing Estel's heritage. You both would have been hunted."

Gandalf considered those words carefully and then sighed, sitting back down heavily. "I did…what I thought was right," he said. "I am a old man, and I question many things, and this will always remain one of them." He looked at the young man who was staring at him. "I am sorry, Faramir, for not being able to tell you sooner. And I am sorry for the pain that I know this is causing you now."

Faramir blinked a little, trying to decide what to say. "I understand," he finally murmured. Pale eyes regarded the Elf and wizard, and Elrond knew that they were silently being judged for their truthfulness. "Why are you telling me this now?" Faramir asked.

"With the defeat of Sauron, there is no need to hide Estel or you," Elrond answered calmly. "Still, I think it would be best that we continue to keep this secret, except for a very few." Faramir nodded, knowing that if his parentage was revealed, his mother would be scorned by some in Gondor.

"But then I am…not really the rightful Steward," Faramir said.

"Nonsense!" Gandalf huffed. The wizard had taken up his pipe and was taking great puffs, something he did when unsettled. "You are the Steward, Faramir, and Aragorn was very clear that that is a closed subject. It would cause great turmoil if you were to try to renounce your position. There is no logical reason why Denethor's younger son would not take up the duties as Steward, and to Middle Earth you are his son, Faramir. There can be no other."

Elrond saw the hesitation in the man's eyes and he nodded his agreement. It would be best for all if this remained a secret. Faramir seemed like he wanted to argue for a moment, and then he lowered his eyes in acceptance. There was a long uncomfortable silence in the room before Elrond took charge.

"I think it is time for you to rest, young Faramir," he said, standing and placing a hand on the man's shoulder. "This has been a great shock; you need time to reflect upon this. There is no need to force more discussion." Gandalf looked a bit disappointed for a moment, and then he saw the look in Elrond's eyes and accepted the healer's judgement. Faramir was quite pale, and he was unable to look at the wizard.

Faramir was barely aware of standing and letting Elrond guide him out the door. He paused in the doorway and looked back at Gandalf. The wizard looked suddenly very old and worried, and Faramir knew it had been a very difficult discussion for him. "I…am not angry," he murmured, sensing worry in Gandalf's mind. Gandalf looked up, his face brightening and he nodded.

Elrond led the young Human down the hallways back to his rooms, steering him toward the warm bed. "Rest now," the elf said quietly. "Your mind is rightfully confused at present; there is time for answers later." Faramir sat on the bed, and Elrond deftly removed his shoes and pulled a blanket over him as he laid down. "Sleep," he whispered, and there was a command in his voice. Faramir closed his eyes and fell into a deep peaceful dark.

---

Faramir stared at the flames of the fire, his mind idly watching the flickering tongues of fire. A pleasant fire had been burning in the hearth in his room when he had awoken, and he thought that Elrond had likely started it earlier. It did feel good to be warm, and seeing the latest snowstorm swirl outside his windows, he was content to stay inside. The whirling snow perfectly matched his confused thoughts.

A knock came at the door and he quietly answered. "Come in," he said. He was not really surprised when Elrond entered. The Elf inclined his head in greeting and then sat in a chair beside Faramir when the prince gestured welcome.

"How do you fare?" Elrond asked after a moment. Faramir managed a small smile at the question.

"Surprisingly good," he answered after a moment. "I feel I should be more shocked, or angry, but I'm really not."

Elrond regarded the steward thoughtfully and then nodded. "Perhaps a part of you knew," he suggested. "If you inherited a fraction of Mithrandir's foresight, you would have felt something at some point. And you two were very close when you were young; he wanted to be a father to you as best he could."

Faramir glanced at the Elf, his light eyes curious. "How long have you known?"

"Since you were a child. My own foresight told me the war of the Ring was drawing closer, and Mithrandir spent much of his time between here and Gondor. He decided to confide in me when he was certain that Sauron would rise again and you would be one of those to face him." Elrond saw that Faramir was eager to hear more, and he settled back in the chair and continued.

"He did wonder if you should be brought to Rivendell," Elrond said. "But both of us and Galadriel had seen that your destiny was in Gondor. It was difficult for Mithrandir to leave you there, but there were many reasons we knew it had to be so."

One of Faramir's dark eyebrows rose in surprise. "The Lady Galadriel knew?" he asked, rather nonplussed. It was quite a surprise to learn that such a powerful lady knew something of him.

"She occasionally saw glimpses of you in her mirror, and knew you would figure in the future of Middle Earth. But even now she does not know the truth of your parentage; Mithrandir told only me, I assure you." The healer smiled, a faintly mischievous glint in his dark eyes. "She hates puzzles; I imagine that she would give quite a bit to know more."

Faramir tried to picture the Lady of the Golden Wood indulging in gossip, and had to shake his head. Elrond looked amused, and continued. "We knew you had to remain in Gondor, but Mithrandir never stopped worrying about you. It was very difficult for him to leave you every time he left the city, but he did what he had to do." He regarded the young man thoughtfully. "I know that he wishes now to be able to spend time with you, to try to make up for what was lost."

The Steward considered this, and then nodded. "I would like that as well," he said quietly. "It does feel…right, somehow. I meant when I said that I am not angry."

"He worried that you would be upset," Elrond said.

"No," Faramir shook his head. "Very confused, but I'm not angry." He was about to say more when he coughed violently. Sheepishly, he found his handkerchief and noticed that Elrond was giving him the healer glare.

"I'm not sick," he said. It sounded peevish even to his ears.

"You seem to be doing your best imitation though," Elrond countered. "And your shoulder is aching as well." He had noticed Faramir wince a few times. "We did not conduct your healing session for that wound this morning. We should do so now." He stood and moved over to a small chest where some of his healing herbs were stored.

Faramir scowled behind the Elf's back, quickly switching back to a hopefully earnest expression when Elrond returned. "It does not hurt much," he protested.

The healer ignored him. "That was not terribly convincing," he replied dryly. Elrond placed the small flask that he had brought over onto a small table. "I need to apply some ointment to the wound this time, and it will also alleviate some of the tightness in your breath." His ears had picked up the congested sound in Faramir's chest.

It took Faramir a moment to realize that Elrond wanted him to remove his shirt. "Oh," he mumbled, suddenly flustered. He fumbled with the lacings on his over tunic, his fingers bizarrely clumsy. It was not the first time Elrond had applied salve to his wound or chest, but each time he did Faramir found himself growing more and more self conscious.

Elrond barely stopped himself from offering to help the young prince. His fingers itched to touch that soft skin, and he scolded himself for feeling this way about a patient. Faramir had received yet another shock that day, although he was coping well, and this was not the time to think about expressing his desires to the Man. He forced himself to remain still while Faramir shrugged out of his tunic, and then removed the soft shirt underneath.

Faramir nearly jumped when Elrond touched him and the Elf immediately drew back. "Does that hurt?" he asked, eyeing the wound with concern. It was still red and angry, though he had been able to detect some small improvement in the past week.

"No, not at all," Faramir assured him hurriedly. It feels goo— alright," he stumbled. He wanted to bit his tongue off for nearly saying that it felt good. But every time Elrond touched him, it did feel good. Elrond studied him for a moment, and then resumed applying the salve carefully.

He finished with the wounded area, and then rubbed some of the softly scented oil onto Faramir's chest. Elrond silently scolded himself for letting his mind wander, but it was most pleasing to touch Faramir this way, telling himself that it was very likely the only touch that Faramir would accept from him. But why were those light eyes watching him so intently?

Elrond finished and stepped back before those eyes could study him too deeply. Both were silent as Faramir dressed and Elrond returned the jar to his medical chest. Both knew there was something they would need to speak of, but for now, they chose the silence.

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