Chapter 25
Faramir disentangled himself from Teleziel and rose as quietly as possible from the bed. As he was dressing in the semi-darkness, Teleziel stretched lazily. “So soon?”
“I was trying not to wake you.”
“I wasn’t sleeping.” Teleziel also rose from the bed and began gathering his borrowed clothes. “You should not try to sneak off without saying good-bye. Let me help you with that,” he added as he saw Faramir toiling with his armor straps.
“I wasn’t sneaking off,” Faramir said as allowed his lover to help him. “I have to meet with Mithrandir before gathering my men.”
“Shall I go with you?”
“No, I want you to stay here and get some sleep.”
“I do not know how you expect me to sleep while you ride off…” he stopped. “I am too nervous to sleep.”
Faramir kissed Teleziel. “We all are. Soon, this will be over, for good or ill.”
Teleziel offered a thin smile for an answer. “I’ll meet you in the stables before you leave.”
“I would rather you didn’t.”
Cocking his head, Teleziel studied Faramir. “Do you think I’ll embarrass you by begging to come along?”
“No, I don’t think that. I would just rather..remember you this way. And, I’d rather you remembered me..like this.”
“I shall remember you as you were last night—kissing me until I could no longer think.”
“That is a good memory, as well.”
*~*
Faramir found Mithrandir speaking with a child and he paused for a moment to organize his thoughts. He was certain that his old friend would understand h is request, but he wasn’t sure that Mithrandir would be willing to look after a young, frightened Haradrim. The young fellow, dressed in the garb of his father’s personal guard, turned around and all thoughts of Teleziel flew from Faramir’s mind.
Looking up, Mithrandir caught sight of Faramir’s expression and looked down at Pippin. “You’ve seen a Hobbit before.” At Faramir’s nod, Mithrandir became excited, as did the young one next to him.
Pippin turned from Mithrandir to Faramir and then back again. “You’ve seen Frodo? And Sam?”
“Tell me everything, Faramir.”
*~*
Teleziel took a wizened apple and a hunk of cheese for breakfast and ate hastily as he moved quickly about the city. He didn’t care what Faramir said, he was going to the stables to speak with those of the Rangers he knew. It was enough to have lost Damrod and Mablung without really having the chance to say his good-byes, he was not going to let the rest of the troop go that way. In his heart, he doubted that he’d see any of them alive again and it pained him to know this as much as it pained him that Faramir would not allow him to go.
He found them easily enough by the sound. The unfamiliar ring of shod hooves on cobble drew him immediately. He stood in the doorway of the stable watching the grim faced men cinch belly straps and check harnesses. They looked after their horses and quietly joked with each other. Their eyes, however, were hollow and they avoided eye contact with each other, as if afraid that their gazes would give them away.
Moving among them, Teleziel was greeted warmly by those who
had been at Ithilien and curiously by those who had not. The Rangers were supplemented
by Gondorians and they had never met Teleziel before. When the young Haradrim
showed reluctance to admit his relationship with the Steward’s son, the
Rangers quickly made up something to hide his birthright, knowing that to identify
him as Haradrim was akin to a death sentence, despite his valor against the
orcs.
*~*
“There is a favor I must beg of you, Mithrandir,” Faramir said as finished telling about Frodo and Sam. “There is one who came with me.”
“The Haradrim, yes, I will keep his secret. And so will Pippin.”
Pippin looked up guiltily.
“You haven’t told any one else have you?” Faramir stared intently into Pippin’s face. “Please say that my father does not yet know of him.”
“No, only Gandalf because I knew he wasn’t Gondorian. But I didn’t know what he was.”
“Good, good, Pippin. Let’s keep it our secret, shall we? Now, Faramir, what is this favor?”
“If something should happen and I do not return, you must look after Teleziel.”
Gandalf frowned and harrumphed. “I’m not a nurse maid.”
“He’s helpless, Mithrandir. You heard his tale. If he’s captured by the Haradrim, do you know what they will do to him? Not only is he..” Faramir looked at Pippin. “What he is, his predilections, are forbidden and they have already tried to kill him once. This time, he will also be a traitor.”
“Indeed, that would be most unfortunate. Very well, Faramir. I give you my word. I will not let him be captured by the Haradrim.”
*~*
Dawn slowly crept over the White city, illuminating the stone with a rose-tinted glow. The last of the men were ready to ride forth one more time. Teleziel sat near Faramir’s saddled horse and waited. He allowed his thoughts to drift aimlessly, recalling the names and faces of those he’d met in Ithilien and how much he’d come to respect each one. He no longer thought of the Haradrim he’d known. Imiro was a vague shadow in the back of his mind, recalled with difficulty and easily dismissed. The pain inflicted by the one he’d always thought to love above all others faded like the stars at dawn’s fist kiss. Even the hatred he’d felt at the betrayal and brutality of his rape lessened. Faramir’s love-making had at last healed even that wound.
“I am glad you came.”
Teleziel looked up to see Faramir standing beside his horse. The metal armor glowed from much burnishing and the Ranger looked handsome as he stood with the horse’s reins in his mailed fist. “I told you I would come, no matter what you said.”
“I knew you would,” Faramir smiled before leaning forward to kiss Teleziel’s lips. “The men are gathered in the courtyard and it is time for us to go.”
“I will watch from the battlements,” Teleziel said. “And I will cheer loudest of all when you ride back in victory.”
Both knew it was a hollow promise, but they pretended otherwise for to admit the truth was to admit that they were truly saying good-bye to each other. And neither of them wanted to believe that, after having waited so long to find one another, they would be parted again and with such finality. The Haradrim wrapped his arms around Faramir’s shoulders and held him tightly and refused to allow the tears filling his eyes to spill onto his cheeks.
“I have spoken with Mithrandir and he has agreed to keep an eye on you. If—no, listen to me, Teleziel—if the city falls, he will take you away with him to the elves where they will protect you for as long as possible.” Faramir stroked Teleziel’s dark head and wished for the umpteenth time that his lover had not butchered the long, lovely locks.
“Elves?” Teleziel kept the sarcasm out of his voice. He knew about them, of course, what child had not heard of their magic and treachery long years before when the armies of the earth gathered to wage a war for supremacy? “I will trust him, as you wish.”
“Good. Now kiss me once more for luck.”
Tilting his face up, Teleziel pressed his lips to Faramir’s and slowly opened his mouth, granting Faramir a final taste of his sweetness. He did not cling to his lover, as he would have liked, but rather savored the kiss and warm hands cupping his head for as long as Faramir allowed it and when it was over, stepped back with a bright smile to watch Faramir mount his horse and ride away to join the long column of men.
As Faramir headed the winding column through the deserted streets, he saw Mithrandir standing like a beacon in his long gray robes and white beard. “This is folly! Madness. Faramir do not throw your life away in this manner.”
Faramir settled more easily into the saddle and set his mouth in a grim line. “My father’s orders were clear, Mithrandir. Retake Osgiliath or do not return. Remember your promise to me,” he said as he nudged his horse.
“Fools,” Mithrandir breathed as he spun on his heel and headed higher up in the citadel.
*~*
Teleziel stood at the top of the city and gazed down in astonishment at the plain below. Beside him stood the white robed old man and Teleziel shrank into himself. Moving on the plain below was a long line of riders, barely visible to them, that slowly broke into a charge with their lances pointed before them. Teleziel could barely stand to watch as they were met head-on by the orcs.
Dawn passed and the day bloomed and the sun wheeled in her course overhead. The inevitable defeat came and those who rode out did not return and the men lining the walls marked their valor and their sacrifice. Some hung their heads and muttered into their beards about the loss of both the Steward’s sons. Others cursed the steward as a fool, but only where they were sure no one would hear them. Teleziel stood silently on the wall, straining his eyes towards the plain. He had not moved in several hours and his body, had he made note of it, was exhausted. He stared at the broken bodies littering the fields, wondering which was Faramir. How would they retrieve his beloved for burial or would they leave him to rot among the orcs? Surely not, he thought, for this was the Steward’s son and he deserved more than to be food for the carrion eaters. A hand clasped his but Teleziel paid not attention.
“Gandalf—that is Mithrandir to you—has sent me to fetch you some food.” The voice squeaked at Teleziel’s side and the Haradrim snatched his hand away. Undaunted, the child’s voice continued speaking. “Please, Master Teleziel,” and here he stumbled over the strange syllables and cadences. “There is nothing that can be done now. I’m sorry for your friend, but you must come away, like Mithrandir says.”
“Who will go and get him?”
Pippin, startled into silence for a moment, stared up at the angular man with his black eyes and scraped scalp. “Get who?”
“Who will go and get Lord Faramir?” Teleziel at last turned his tired and aching eyes from the battlefield to the person beside him.
“I do—“ started Pippin, but he was cut short by a loud cry from the gate. Turning, he saw a lone horse picking its way wearily over the field. A rider dragged behind the horse, his foot tangled in the stirrup. “They are saying it’s Lord Faramir.”
Teleziel turned to flee down the stone steps. His loose clothes billowed behind him and he slipped a little on the slick, unfamiliar steps, only to catch himself on the white stone walls.
“Wait,” Pippin called as he trotted after the long-legged Haradrim. “You’ll never get near him. I can show you where they’ll take him.”
Teleziel, stopped and turned. “They will take him to his father now.”
“Yes, but I can show you the way in.”
Teleziel’s face lost all color and he stared past the strange little boy. “I must not.”
“But—“
Suddenly, Teleziel clasped Pippin’s hand in his own. “Tell me, what is your name?”
“Pippin of --.” Alarmed, the Hobbit tried to retrieve his hand from the long fingers.
Kneeling, Teleziel peered intently to the round little face. “Whisper in his ears that I love him and …that ..”
Astonished, Pippin stopped trying to free his hand. Slowly an incomplete understanding dawned on him. “You should go and say these things yourself.”
“I cannot.” Teleziel shook his head. “If Faramir’s father sees me, I will be placed in the dungeons. I am more afraid of the dungeons than all the orcs of Mordor.”
Pippin stared in the dark eyes, now shining brightly with unshed
tears. “I’ll tell him.”