A Face in the Crowd: Faramir

Chapter Eleven - The Field of Cormallen

*Some short sections of text in this chapter are taken from The Return of the King, property of J.R.R Tolkien & the Tolkien Estate. All of my fanfiction is not for profit.

Keren was back in her world of swirling grey, of numbness and denial.

The happiness on Éomer's face was too painful for her, so she closed herself off, despite the conversation carrying on, the warden congratulating the King on his sister's good fortune, Palen smiling and nodding at the right time, all the while her heart breaking for Keren, who stood unnoticed slightly to one side, staring at the floor.

Dimly she registered that their time in the King's tent was ended, and she followed her sister outside into the fresh air. Once they had fallen into step behind the warden, Palen grasped her hand.

"He's taking us to our tents," she whispered. "Stay strong a little longer."

Keren nodded blindly.

Stay strong. How many times had she repeated those words to herself? Had she ever truly heeded them?

Somehow one foot was still being placed in front of the other. She could not tell for how long they walked, past how many tents and how many men, some with interested glances towards the two young women. Éomer and the warden were conversing deeply but quietly, so they could only hear brief snatches of details of the battle and subsequent skirmishes.

Keren trudged on blindly, almost walking into the warden's back when they came to a stop in front of a small, slightly dirty tent. A young man with cropped dark hair and a slightly wonky smile was stood outside, a nasty cut on his face and his left arm in a very rough sling. Palen gave a cry and dashed forward.

"Dannor, oh Dan!"

He flung his good arm around her, and she could not see his wince as she leant a little too heavily on his sprained wrist. He held her close and kissed the top of her head, before she looked up and kissed his mouth. He hissed and winced again as her hand went to his face and touched the cut on his face.

"Ow. Call yourself a healer, Pal?" he said.

She gasped with guilt and jumped back, but he quickly grabbed her waist, smiling, and pulled her towards him, kissing her with enthusiasm.

The warden cleared his throat awkwardly and muttered, "your duties can start tomorrow" to Palen, who definitely did not hear. Beregond waved Keren over.

"There's space for you and Palen in here, but it is cramped - you'll be sharing with the other women." He gestured inside the low tent. "I hope you've prepared for rather irregular sleeping patterns. You'll be called upon at all hours of the day, best to catch sleep while you can."

He stopped, noticing the dark circles under her eyes and her blank expression.

"Everything alright?" he asked quietly.

"Just tired," she said simply.

Her rush of wanting to tell him everything had gone. Now she found the last thing she wanted to do was speak of it all.

Beregond raised an eyebrow, knowing her well.

"I don't want to talk of it now." Annoying, tired and angry tears came to her eyes, which she furiously blinked away. "You'll hear the news soon enough. I came here to help, and to get away. So point me towards where I can be of use."

"Oh, Keren." Beregond put a gently hand on her shoulder. "Always lately you're sad and tired. Begin your work tomorrow, and don't feel the need to be useful tonight, rest instead. Why don't you go and see your father, he is here, and unhurt."