Chapter 10
Teleziel slept poorly. His body refused to relax and his mind refused to be silent. All night long he imagined the shades of his family, brothers and cousins, coming to him with accusations. In the darkness of the caves, he had only his internal clock by which to tell time and when he thought it must be near dawn, he crept from beneath his blankets and sat with his back to the wall.
He said a prayer to his gods and offered prayers, too, for his family. He didn’t know why he felt the need to pray for their forgiveness, but he did. The prayers made him feel better about his betrayal, but not about his situation. In Minas Tirith, he would tell them every thing he knew and even make up things he didn’t. He knew he was too weak and too frightened to withstand much. As much as this was an affront to his pride, he’d already been through enough to know that he’d give in simply because he knew first hand how torture felt.
He examined his feelings and realized that he didn’t resent Faramir for his decision, although there were times when he truly detested the Gondorian. Mostly, however, he hated being tricked and he hated the forceful way the captain manipulated him. The pain he inflicted was his only resource, his only control, and Faramir took that away from him. It was his body, no one else’s and what he did to it should be of no concern to any one.
Tentatively, he ran his hand over his hair and felt the bald patches where he’d pulled out great handfuls of hair. Not only had he pulled out hair, he’d torn his scalp, leaving behind bloody scabs. Absently, he picked at one as he thought.
Had he been in Faramir’s boots, he would do exactly as the Gondorian. He would take his prisoner and have him questioned, tortured if necessary. The Haradrim were quite clever with torture. He only imagined the Gondorians were equally proficient. Every time he tried to envision a Gondorian, the only image that came to mind was Faramir. Were they all like him, calm as still water one moment and a raging flood the next? Did they all have gray eyes and hair like the rising desert sun? Teleziel realized he could no longer envision Imiro’s face and he grew panicked by the thought.
Why couldn’t he remember his friend? Teleziel closed his eyes and concentrated. He tried to think of Imiro as he’d been that day. His skin was sun-bronzed, save where his mask covered his mouth and nose. The eyes were gray.
“No!”
Damrod stuck his head inside the door way and frowned. “What is it?”
“I can’t see him.” Teleziel cried as he rocked and picked at the scabs on his head. “I can’t see him.”
Damrod glanced around and didn’t see any one in the room. “Who can’t you see? There is no one here.”
Teleziel began babbling and crying in his own language and Damrod retreated, uncertain and confused by the strange behavior. After a moment’s debate, he left his post and walked a little way down the hall and asked someone to get the captain.
The harder Teleziel tried to conjure images of Imiro, the more difficult it became. He couldn’t see his eyes or his hair. All he could remember was the cruel smile Imiro wore as he lowered his breeches, exposing his stiffening cock just before he descended on Teleziel. And when he tried to remember Imiro before that night, all he could see was Faramir.
Despite the seeming cruelty, Teleziel had to admit that Faramir had been kind. He’d bathed him and fed him. He’d not allowed anyone to hurt him. All he demanded was Teleziel’s honesty. And the betrayal of his people.
“You left me to die. You took your pleasure with me and you hurt me and you wanted me to die from it. Are you more a man than I, Imiro? I offered you my love and you gave me your contempt. Does this make you a man?”
Faramir stood with arms folded over his chest watching Teleziel. He couldn’t understand the words, but he could understand the grief and anger.
Teleziel heard his voice echo back to him and he didn’t care. The walls reverberated with his rage and pain and his humiliation and still he did not care. He howled his anguish until his voice was ragged and his throat raw.
“All I ever wanted was for you to love me as much as I loved you. Why couldn’t you understand? Why did you turn against me? Was it not enough that you didn’t love me, did you also have to hurt me?”
Tears splashed over Teleziel’s cheeks and coursed down his throat. When Faramir could take no more, he unfolded his arms and knelt before the Haradrim and gently stroked the hands entangled in the dark locks. He didn’t tug Teleziel’s hands away, as he’d done in the past. He realized that nothing he did would change Teleziel. He could not force the Haradrim to be other than he was, even though it hurt him to see another harm himself as Teleziel did. How could he take the Haradrim back to Minas Tirith knowing what he’d face when he got there?
He’d set the Hobbits free and they carried the weapon of the enemy. And here was the enemy, also a weapon. But was not the weapon blunted?
Teleziel opened his swollen eyes and blinked through tear-spiked lashes. Faramir’s face was so close to his that he could feel the Gondorian’s breath on his cheeks. He allowed Faramir to pull his hands from his hair and he looked down at their entwined fingers. His nails were caked with blood and hair. He could feel warm blood trickling over his scalp. Shame filled him as he stared at his hands and he tried to draw them away. He only wanted to hide them so that Faramir could not see them.
Staring at Teleziel’s hands, Faramir was at a loss for either words or thoughts. What anguish filled this boy so that he destroyed himself? He realized he could ask himself the questions over and over and still he would never understand. Even Teleziel’s explanations made no sense. “I’ll have some water brought for you,” he temporized.
Teleziel quaked and his breath hitched. He could only nod as he freed his hands and tucked them behind his knees, out of sight. He ducked his head so that the captain would not see his weakness.
Exiting the chamber, Faramir glanced sternly at Damrod and Mablung. “Watch him.” He left his men standing in the hall, mute and angry and confused, and went in search of an ewer and warm water.
When Faramir walked off, Mablung turned to Damrod. “He wants to keep the Haradrim here.”
“So I heard. Maybe it would be better for him.”
“For the Haradrim? The only thing that will help him is death.”
“Something possesses him, but what I do not know. The captain sees more than you or I, Mablung. It is up to him to decide.”
“Even if it means our downfall?”
Damrod looked inside and watched Teleziel for a moment. The boy sat quietly, with his head resting on his bent knees. “His only threat is to himself.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“How can you not be? Look at him. He’s pathetic. He’s alone, raped, left for dead. He can’t go back.” Damrod paused. “And he can’t go forward. He’s trapped in a place with no escape, like a wild animal that will gnaw off its own paw to escape the hunter’s snare.”
“The captain’s heart is too soft.”
“Yours is too hard if you cannot see that boy’s pain.”
Mablung blew air through his lips. “That isn’t a boy, in case you haven’t looked. He’s a man, a warrior. Haradrim. The enemy.”
“Yes, he’s a man and a Haradrim. As for being the enemy? I think not. Whatever happened to him, it was so severe that he will never forgive those that hurt him.”
“He weeps for them, Damrod.”
“He weeps for himself, Mablung. He weeps for what isn’t.”
“Your heart is like the captain’s, too soft.”
Damrod smiled. “Good thing for you.”