A Face in the Crowd: Faramir

Chapter Seven - Candlelight

The sun rose the next day with a deep red light in the east, which crept through the small room and fell across Keren's face. She opened her eyes - Palen was finally asleep - and rose quickly and quietly, not wishing to wake her sister and bring back the cruel reality that her husband was gone.

There was no Beregond outside the warden's room this morning, and she felt a pang of sadness and worry at the thought of him waiting to march to his doom.

She knocked on the door, and was surprised to hear Faramir's deep voice call out to her that she could enter. The sight she saw once she was within the room surprised her even more.

He stood with his back to her, at the window, fully dressed. A tub of water was cooling on the floor, which he had obviously had brought to him and bathed in before sunrise. She was taken aback by just how tall he was, how much he seemed to fill the room. The blood of Númenor was showing strongly, and Keren felt insignificant next to him. But then she remembered how he had dreamt of falling off a mûmak. She remembered how tenderly he had touched her face.

His dark hair was damp and lightly curled at the nape of his neck, and she wondered what would happen if she went up behind him and gently threaded it through her fingers. She was pleased with whatever it was that was developing between them, though not allowing herself to hope that he saw her as anything more than a servant. But the smile he gave her as he turned and took in her appearance behind him was enough to make her think twice.

"Ready to leave?" he asked.

"When you said you wished to prove me wrong I simply thought you meant that you would try to get out of bed," she said.

"I am filled with a strange energy today, Keren," he said, walking away from the window and, to her delight, grasping her forearms with his strong hands. "If I cannot march with these men, then I will stand at the walls of my city and watch them go. Will you watch with me?"

She could not help but smile at his enthusiasm, but he was not fooling her. He still looked tired, and despite the fact that he had been eating and was well rested, she was concerned about him taking the walk to the gardens so soon. She could not believe that only a few days had passed since he was carried to the Houses, near death.

"I will come," she said, "but the moment you look pale or seem faint we are coming back inside and you are getting straight back into bed."

He chuckled.

"So strict," he said, lifting a hand and lightly brushing a wisp of hair from her face. "And if I do not do as you command?"

"Then you will be as any of my patients," she pulled away from him teasingly. "In trouble."

Once they were outside in the gardens a far more sombre mood took them. On the short walk there Faramir had had to admit that Keren was right, and he was not yet as recovered as he had hoped. Keren had had to take his arm to support him as he walked down the shallow steps to the path behind the low walls.

They were not alone, as both had hoped they would be. Two small figures were leaning their elbows on the wall, the shorter one only just able to see over the top. Keren recognised Bergil, and could only assume that the second person was the other hobbit, Meriadoc.

Both turned, Bergil looking a little scared.

"Lord Faramir," he said quickly, and bowed low.

Faramir bid him stand. Keren looked over at the hobbit – he still looked tired, but other than the dark circles under his eyes she would not have known, had Ioreth and Palen not told her, the trials he had been through. He was fair like Pippin, though chubbier cheeked. His feet were somewhat large and very hairy, a trait she had been too busy to notice if Pippin shared. His eyes were merry, as if it would not take much to send him into fits of laughter despite all he had experienced. And then she remembered that the elf had called him Merry, and she judged it an apt endearment.