Later, Imrahil prowled the battlements and stared down at the city. Below, on the plains, another city of tents and pavilions shed their own lights over the plains. In the distance, he could hear horses neigh and people calling to one another. His thoughts were dark and filled with foreboding. Eomer's nature was not to take insult lightly and Imrahil feared that tensions would increase. However, he could not force Faramir to wed Eowyn, despite her willingness and her loveliness. If Faramir had given his heart away, then it was done and there was nothing anyone could do except allow him time to heal.
A shadow detached itself from the wall and Imrahil froze. "Lord Eomer, I did not know you were still in Minas Tirith. I assumed you would have returned to your people by now."
"I just left my sister," Eomer paced closer, reminding Imrahil of a trapped animal. The broad shoulders easily carried the weight of both armor and responsibility.
"How did she take the news?" Imrahil was as concerned for the shield maiden as he was for his nephew. Both had been through so much and were yet fragile.
Eomer's eyes darted over the wall and he stared for a long time at Pelennor Field. "She is used to disappointment."
Imrahil cleared his throat awkwardly. "Give him time, Lord, to adjust to his new station. There is much that you do not know."
"So I am given to understand. Eowyn seemed to think he recovers from more than his physical wounds. She is much more forgiving than I."
"She is wise. And, yes, Faramir does recover from more than his brush with the Nazgul. Although I am not at liberty to speak of it."
Eomer's head turned and he gave Imrahil a knowing look from the corner of his eye. "A warrior?"
Imrahil felt a cold chill run down his spine. Had someone guessed and told Eomer? "Such things happen, as you should know."
"I know that warriors seek comfort in the dark hours among themselves. The watches of the night are long indeed and even in Rohan, we understand such things. Rejecting a wife in favor of a warrior? That we do not accept."
"Some things are not for us to decide. Tell me, Lord Eomer, have you never felt the hard touch of rough hands on your cheek, and felt more than physical yearning? In the watches of the night, have you not longed for your soul mate and wondered if he lay sleeping next to you?"
This time Eomer cleared his throat. "As soon as the healers allow it, I will take Eowyn and return to Rohan."
"You have, haven't you, Eomer, King of Rohan? Is it anger or envy that you feel towards my nephew?"
Eomer drew himself up to his fullest height. "Good night, Prince Imrahil."
For the second time, Imrahil watched Eomer stride
away. This time, however, was different, for now he saw past the stern mask
to the man beneath. Who had he lost that left his heart so guarded? Or had
it been rejection that sent the young warrior running?
Imrahil continued along the battlements, seeking the safety and solitude of
his rooms.
*~*
Aragorn drew his hood closer around his face and slipped around the guards. They were lax, fearing little now that the Dark Lord was gone and the victorious army camped on the field before the city walls. He was familiar with Minas Tirith from the days when he'd served Lord Denethor's father, Ecthelion. He moved like a shadow along the streets, slipping from one rubble pile to the next, as he made his way to the level that housed the healers.
There were no guards on the doors to the Houses of Healing. Only a lit torch outlined the single portal. Aragorn ducked quickly inside and stood for a moment, gathering his bearings. Torches ranged at intervals along the walls. Many men lay on pallets in the corridor and he knew, from having once walked among them, that many more also lay in branching corridors. The one he sought would not be hard to find, he thought, for he knew where that one was housed. He moved quickly, lest he be caught and have to explain himself. In no time, he reached the small room appointed to the captain and stood outside listening for any sounds within. From behind the curtain a dim light peaked. Pulling aside the roughly woven cloth, Aragorn peered inside.
Faramir stared up at the ceiling. His eyes were unblinking and red-rimmed, and his mouth was set in a grim line. Beside him on a small table was a lamp with the wick trimmed low.
"Captain?" Aragorn entered the room and drew the curtain back into place.
Faramir sat up instantly and went for a dagger that he kept near his pillow.
Aragorn held up his hands in a sign of peace. When Faramir did not leap from the bed or cry out, he slowly pulled open his cloak to show he had no weapon upon him. His hood fell back and his dark hair spilled out and over his shoulders. The lamp cast his face in shadows so that only his gray eyes gleamed. "Do you remember me, captain?"
Immediately, Faramir loosed his hold on his dagger and tried to rise from his bed. "Forgive me, my lord, for I did not know it was you."
"Sit, please, Captain. No one knows I am here." Aragorn waited until Faramir had made himself comfortable again and then pulled a stool closer to the bed and seated himself on it. "I have been concerned for you."
"Thanks to you, I am well. I owe you my life."
"But not my allegiance?" Aragorn responded wryly. "Peace, Captain, for I have not come to chide you. I understand what it is like not to fully understand one's destiny and to fear that unknown. You left Rivendell in such a hurry that I did not have the opportunity to say good-bye. Your counsel would have been welcome."
His face grew warm and Faramir hoped the shadow hid the blush he knew crept over his face. "I had my answers, Lord Aragorn, and I learned more in the bargain. I allowed my emotions to over take my common sense and I behaved rashly as a result."
"Discovering one has a life and a heritage that one never knew is disconcerting," agreed the wise warrior. "Boromir, too, was shaken. In the end, I think it weighed heavily upon him and may have hastened his end as he, like you, allowed emotions to overwhelm common sense."
"Did-did he suffer?" Faramir could not erase the image of his brother's peaceful corpse drifting down stream, but he still had to know if Boromir had met his fate easily.
"Nay, he suffered little and in the end, proved himself. His passing was a great sorrow to all the fellowship."
Faramir relaxed against the pillows. Would Aragorn could lay Boromir's shade to rest as easily as he laid aside Faramir's fears. "I am relieved to know this. I suspect my brother may have been rash at times, but I believe his heart was true."
Aragorn's head tilted slightly. "You loved him deeply, I can see, even though you spent so little time together."
Bristling slightly at the veiled innuendo, Faramir struggled to maintain his composure. "Even though I spent little time with him, what there was if it was valuable to me and I shall always cherish the memory of it."
Aragorn leaned forward and placed his hand on Faramir's. "I do not mean to pry into affairs that are not my own, captain, but I am not blind. I saw you and Boromir together; I witnessed the closeness that developed between you. I watched you flee Rivendell with him trailing after you. When he came back alone, I knew that hard decisions had been made that day. I watched Boromir struggle with his inner demons. If you loved him as much as you claim, then you must release him."
"It is not I who hold him, Lord, but he who holds me," whispered Faramir.
"Nay, for he is gone, Faramir, and only remains behind in your heart. You must learn to love another if he is ever to be free."
"Then I should marry Eowyn? Even though I feel nothing for her?"
"I did not say that, captain. I said you must let go of Boromir. You must make choices and make them soon. After you have decided which fate you will chose, you will find it easier to live without him."
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