Chapter 2

It was the cry that first alerted them; the high pitched wail of an infant in distress, the sound so incongruous in the plains of Anórien that they all halted their mounts in order to listen. They could see nothing to account for the cry, but the trail veered off, skirting the base of a small grass covered hill and disappearing from sight.

Legolas leapt down from his mount and sprinted up the hill, dropping to his knees as he neared the summit and crawling forward to scout ahead.

“It appears to be just a family on the move,” he said as he returned a few minutes later. “Just a woman and a youth pulling a cart.”

“No men with them,” queried Faramir, his Ranger’s wariness kicking in. “Could they be a decoy for an ambush?”

“I could see no sign of others; the ground is too open for concealment. My guess is that they are simple travellers.” Faramir readily accepted Legolas’s judgement.

Legolas remounted and they moved off. As they rounded the bend in the trail the group came into view. They were a sorry sight; the two-wheeled cart was designed to be pulled by a pony but there was no animal between the shafts, just a half-starved boy and a woman, hunched over and further burdened by the keening infant strapped to her back.

With their eyes fixed grimly to the ground neither noticed the approaching horsemen until they were only yards apart. The boy let go of the shaft and drew a knife from his belt, moving in front of his mother to protect her. The woman, unable to bear the weight of the cart alone dropped the shaft she was holding and the cart tipped forward.

“Keep back, mister,” the boy warned, defiantly waving his knife in front of him.

“Peace, lad, we mean you no harm.” Faramir slipped from the saddle but made no effort to move closer.

The woman straightened up and placed a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What do you want with us, Sir,” she said, addressing Faramir.

“We want nothing, Mistress; though we would offer you what assistance we may, for you appear to be in need.” At this the woman’s strength seemed to give way and she sank to her knees.

“The children are hungry, Sir, if you have food to spare I would be for ever in your debt, for I have nothing left to repay your kindness.” As she spoke she released the shawl that held the infant and when released the child crawled forward and pulling at her mother’s bodice settled into her lap and began to nurse.

The family huddled together while the travellers kindled a fire and prepared a meal. Faramir introduced himself and his companions but got little information beyond their names and destination.

“My name is Lireal; my son is Tomos and my daughter Liramaer. We have been on the road for many days.”

“Where are you heading, for surely you cannot go far.”

“We seek only a place to live in peace. My husband’s family have a farm near the border with Rohan, but I don’t know if they will have us. ..We have nowhere else to go.” She looked up at him them and he was shocked to see the depth of despair and resignation in her face. He realised that she was younger than he had first imagined and he knew that he couldn’t leave these desperate people to fend for themselves.

Whilst the family ate Faramir conferred with his companions. “Lireal has told me little of her circumstances but we cannot leave them here; they would not survive more than a few days on their own. We could take them with us but I doubt that they would want to retrace their steps.”

“What about Islin, Sir,” said Tamir, before anyone else could speak “He has enough room to take on extra helpers and they would at least be warm and fed.”

“It’s a good idea, Tamir, but how would we get them there,” said Faramir trying to work out the logistics of transporting the exhausted family and the heavily laden wagon. “Gimli, could you fashion a harness to attach the wagon to one of the horses?”

“Ay, but we couldn’t burden the beast with extra passengers as well.” Gimli walked over and examined the cart; testing its weight and balance. “If we’ve rope enough to make me a harness I could pull this, although it would be slow going. It would be good to exercise some of these muscles after so long perched on that bony nag,” he said with a wink at Legolas.

Faramir looked over to Lireal to gauge her reaction but the family were all huddled together asleep and he was loathed to disturb them.

“Right,” he said having come to a decision, “Get to it, Gimli. If you set off now and get a head-start we will follow when they wake.”

Gimli quickly improvised a harness to fix between the shafts of the cart that would allow him to take some of the weight across his chest. Legolas tucked a water skin and a parcel of food into the wagon and whispered some quiet words of encouragement to his friend. Gimli took up the strain and moved off whistling a tune that they all recognised as one of  Merry and Pippin’s bawdier drinking songs.

Tomos woke first; he jumped to his feet in alarm when he noticed the absence of the wagon. He leapt at Faramir knocking him to the ground and pummelling his chest with his fists.

“What have you done with our things,” he yelled, fear and desperation giving him strength. “You said we were safe with you…You’re nothing but thieves and liars.”

Faramir couldn’t dislodge the boy, so he did the next best thing; he pulled him against his chest and held him tight until he stopped struggling. “Peace, Tomos. It’s alright. Gimli has gone ahead with your wagon and we will follow when you are all ready to travel.

Lireal, who had been roused by the commotion, came closer to see Tomos sobbing against Faramir’s chest, fear and exhaustion finally overwhelming him.  Faramir released his hold on the boy to allow him to retreat to his mother’s arms but he stayed put, grasping his cloak and wetting his travel stained jerkin with his tears. Faramir comforted him as best he could.

“He misses his father,” whispered Lireal, “He is too young to be the man of the family; he should be running around and getting into mischief, not trying to protect me and his sisters.”

“Sisters!” queried Faramir. But Lireal turned away and didn’t answer.

“Lireal, there is a farm-stead a couple of hours ride away. We stayed there last night. They are good people. We will take you there…They are good people and I will ask them to look after you until you are strong enough to make a decision about where your future lies,” explained Faramir.

“Why should they help us, we have nothing to offer them”.

“They are a community; they have all suffered loss and hardship, they work together and support each other. Islin, who manages the farm, was injured during the war and is badly scarred but he is a good man, he will not turn you away. You and your children will find peace and companionship there….Please trust me, you will all be safe there; we cannot leave you out here alone.” Lireal simply nodded, relieved not to have to face any more decisions.

They set off again; Lirael sharing Faramir’s mount, Tomos with Tamir and Legolas cradling the sleeping infant. They had covered half of the distance back towards the track when they caught up with Gimli; he still had the energy to sing, his feet plodding to the rhythm of his song, but he was clearly exhausted. Despite his protests they made him stop to rest and Tamir offered to help him with the cart for the rest of the journey. It was decided and as they set off for the final leg of the journey Faramir led Tamir’s horse who now carried Lireal and her daughter. It gave Faramir the chance to get her to tell him her story and as her tale unfolded Faramir was filled with grief and anger.

“My husband was a career soldier, a cadet from the age of fourteen. I moved to the city with my mother when I was ten. She was a seamstress and I was apprenticed to a weaver in the city. We married on my seventeenth birthday and set up home in one of the army quarters in the first circle of the city. It was the proudest day of Beran’s life when he received his Commission into Lord Boromir’s company. He was away a lot and received his share of injuries but nothing that kept him away from action for long. We had a good life; Tomos came along and then my lovely Betham….

“But the fighting just got worse. People were leaving the city and Beran wanted me to go away to safety but I wouldn’t leave him. Months and years passed and things got more difficult; I couldn’t get work. My mother came to live with me to keep me company and to help with the children, Beran got home less and less. Just after Liramaer was born my mother died.

“Beran was injured at Osgiliath; they brought him home to the city more dead than alive and he lingered for months. He’d gone into the river and the cold or the water affected his head…he didn’t know who I was though I nursed in the Houses of Healing day after day. When he finally slipped away I was relieved, I’d said goodbye to him months before, the man lying in the bed wasn’t my Beran…

“It was a struggle looking after three children on my own but Gondor always looked after its soldiers and their families. While Beran was alive we received his pay and after he passed, a regular pension; our accommodation in the first circle was free; it was difficult but we managed. It was too late then to get out of the city. We hid in the caves in the last days…I didn’t want the little ones to see what was happening…I had a knife…I wasn’t going to let the beasts have my children.

“When it was all over we came out and moved back into our home but had to share it with another family. They said the old Steward was dead and that we had a new King but we had to wait weeks for him to come; not that it made any difference to us, we just muddled through as we could, sometimes we got meals at the barracks, often we went hungry.

“We thought things would get better when the King came but it didn’t take long to realise that we were the forgotten people.  One of the first things that changed was that they cancelled the pension and gave us a one off payment; a bag of silver coins, they said it was to set us up for the future; it seemed like riches. We had to move out of the first circle into empty houses in the third circle; they never told us that we would have to pay rent…the silver soon ran out. There wasn’t much call for my weaving skills but I got odd jobs where I could.

“When Betham fell sick I wasn’t allowed to take her to the House of Healing; a new rule from the King’s Council, we had to first seek the services of an apothecary appointed to the Army and you had to have the coin to pay for it. By the time she was sick enough to go to the Houses it was too late…the Warden berated me for leaving it so long, he said I should have known better. I took my beautiful girl home to die.”

“There is nothing left for us in Gondor. My Beran gave his life for the country he loved and he trusted Gondor to look after us. The old Steward cared for his people and Lord Boromir would never have allowed us to be thrown aside…I vowed when we left the city that I will never give my son to Gondor; Gondor has had all that I can give it.”

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By the time Lireal had finished her tale they had almost reached the farm. Faramir had listened in silence; his mind screamed at him that it was all a mistake; that the King would never have allowed this situation to occur but his heart could not dismiss the veracity of her tale. It occurred to him that Lireal didn’t realise who he was or what position he held; he had introduced himself only as Faramir and had not given his title. He wanted to test this thought.

“What of the Steward’s other son,” he asked, “does he not look out for his father’s people?”

“No one has seen him; some say he died, some say that the King had him banished after his Coronation; he certainly doesn’t seem to need a Steward,” she said bitterly.

Faramir’s heart felt like a stone in his chest. He could not keep this deception any longer. He drew the horses to a stand-still and turned to face her.

“Lireal,” he took her hand and waited until she met his gaze. “Lireal, I am Faramir, I am the Son of Denethor and brother to Boromir. I am the Steward, appointed by the King at his Coronation. I was not banished; I have been in Rohan recovering from my injuries. I am on my way back to Minas Tirith to take up my duties.” He watched her expression turn from horror to disbelief.

“If that is a jest, it is a cruel one.”

“It is no jest, I am Faramir…I am the Steward, though I don’t know yet what my place will be in the King’s new order. I’m not sure that I can even serve a King who would betray his people…” He lapsed into silence as a fresh wave of anger and revulsion rolled through him.

“And what will you do now, my Lord,” she whispered.

“I don’t know.” All of the hope and promise and optimism that had sung in his heart only hours before evaporated to leave only the bitter chill of a blighted future.

As Faramir had hoped, Islin welcomed the exhausted family; they were swept away by Bethael with a promise of hot food and a warm bed. Gimli and Tamir staggered into the yard not long after and managed a hasty supper before sleeping. Legolas offered to see to the horses leaving Faramir to explain to Islin as much of Lireal’s tale as he felt able to share.

“If what she says is right, then she won’t be the only one to have suffered,” said Islin sadly. “There must be hundreds of widows and orphans in the city and further a field. What can the King have been thinking…”

“I don’t know…I thought he was an honourable man….I just don’t know what to think any more…part of me wants to turn around and never set foot in the city again but that would make me just as responsible…how do I even begin to put this right.”

They sat in silence for a while, watching the clouds skitter across the night sky.

 “Use your strengths,” Islin counselled. “Just because you no longer carry a sword doesn’t mean that you are no longer a soldier….use your skills; get to know your enemy, learn their strengths and weaknesses, plan your campaign as if it were a battle and keep an open mind, don’t allow yourself to become blinded by emotion…I know you can do this, you are an honourable man,” he said. “Do what ever you  have to do to get to the truth and never forget your birthright…do it in the name of every man and boy who gave their lives for Gondor, do it for every widow and orphan left to lament for their loved ones, do it for your brother…”

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TBC