Chapter 13 – A Friend Indeed

“Ah, little one, must I keep rescuing you?” the man sighed heavily. He did a quick examination to make sure the lad was still, in fact, breathing, then looked at the bloodied arm. The bite marks were not too deep and the waters of the Anduin had cleansed them as they hurtled the Steward southward. “I see you have run into a badger. Looks to have been perhaps two years old. Well, we can fix that arm and quickly.” But his brow furrowed at the marks on the lad’s shoulders. Claw marks? Mayhap from an eagle? Not too big a one, from the size of them. Would the badger and the eagle be in collusion? Concerned, he looked back towards the Shadow Mountains. “Nay. I think not. But how came you by these marks? When you awaken, this is one question that I will ask. Along with a myriad of others. Who was watching you, little one, that you should be cast off on this cold shore?”

He shook his head in sorrow as he ripped a piece of his own shirt, dunked it into the river, and cleaned the wounds on the lad’s shoulders; then he wrapped the injured arm in another piece of his shirt. He chuckled. “I must exact payment for this from your aunt.” When he finished ministering to the still unconscious boy, he called, “Faramir.” There was no answer. “I will bring you to my camp, warm you up a bit, and find out why you do not answer me.” He picked the boy up and walked into the forest. The rains continued to fall, heavier.

The pines of the forest away from the shore grew close together. They kept most of the rain away, but the man knew he needed a fire to warm the boy’s body. He was indeed half frozen from the river. “At least, my Lord Faramir, you are only sleeping. Not that spell-induced slumber that you were in the last time we met.” Awkwardly so he would not drop him, he placed his hands upon Faramir’s head and mumbled. “I think I will put you a little deeper into sleep, at least until I have you warmer.” He hummed in the way of the Elves as he entered his camp. The embers of his fire, sputtering as raindrops hit them, were still bright though it was almost noon. He moved the little lean-to closer and set Faramir down upon a blanket. He removed the lad’s clothes and sat back in consternation. “So thin, Faramir. Have you not been eating?”

He laved the boy with warm water leftover from his morning’s tea, then dressed him in one of his own shirts. Leggings were out of the question; he chuckled, his were a little too long for the boy. He wrapped his cloak about him and then wrapped another blanket around the cloak. The lad’s face was white, cheeks sunken in, eyes black-shadowed. “Ah, Faramir. What have you been doing with yourself?”

He added more water to his pot of rabbit stew and warmed it. Pushing the chunks of meat and vegetables aside, he strained the broth and put it into a cup. He gently lifted Faramir into his arms and called his name. The boy did not stir. The brow of the Ranger furrowed. “Is there something here I cannot see?” He put the cup down and placed both hands upon Faramir’s head. Closing his eyes, he concentrated deeply. “Aí,” he cried aloud. “Still some of the spell left upon you. How foolish of me to think one touch would heal you. I am sorry, my lad, sorry to have left you like this.” His healing pack was close at hand. He reached in and found some athelas. Breathing upon it, he crushed it and threw it into the cup. Waiting a few moments for the warmth to seep into the leaves, he spoke words over it and held it to Faramir’s lips. “Here, little one, drink this.”

The boy stirred as the sweet scent filled the air. His mouth opened and the man was able to pour a few drops down the lad’s throat. Choking, Faramir’s eyes flew open, a frightened cry upon his lips.

“Hush, little one. You are safe.” The Ranger began to sing Finduilas’ lullaby. Tears welled in the boy’s eyes and with his good arm, he pulled himself into the Ranger’s chest, sobbing. “You have had a rather bad time of it, have you not, Lord Faramir?”

The boy looked up at him in surprise. “I know you.” He began to hiccup.

“Yes, you do.”

“I cannot remember your name.”

“Do not worry about that now. I am a friend of your aunt’s. As soon as you have warmed up, I will take you to her.”

“Thank you,” the boy whispered and touched the Ranger’s hand. “May I have some more? It tastes very good.”

“It is rabbit and yes, drink all you can. It will warm you from the inside out.”

After Faramir had drunk all the broth, he handed the cup to Aragorn. Sheepishly, he asked, “Where are we?”

“In Ithilien.”

“How?” Faramir exclaimed.

“I know how I am here,” Aragorn chuckled, “but I know not how you came to be here. Might you tell me your story?”

Faramir bit his lower lip. “I cannot remember much.” He touched his left arm. “I think something horrible attacked me.” He started to cry and hastily batted away the tears. “I fell into the river and held onto a log. I disobeyed ada,” Faramir fell into Sindarin. “I let go the log.”

”Your father taught you to hold onto your rescuer until your feet hit bottom?”

Faramir’s eyes widened. “He did! How did you know?”

“He taught me some things, too, Faramir. Now, please continue with your story.”

“Oh! It is no story.” Another tear slid down his face. “I wish it were.”

Aragorn sat next to the boy and pulled him close. “So do I. I was startled and saddened to find you alone and hurt.”

“Oh! I was hurt! The creature - ”

“It was a badger, Faramir.”

“Thank you,” the boy gulped. “The badger jumped at me. I put up my arm, this one,” he pointed dramatically at the bandaged arm, “but he bit it and would not let go. I fell backwards and into the river.” His face blushed a furious red. “Indis will be angry.”

“For a moment, no more. She will be more happy than angry, once she gets you home. Now, go on.”

“Oh! The… the badger,” and he licked his lower lip as he concentrated, “let go when we hit the water. I tried to shout but I swallowed a lot of water and I could not. The current took me to the middle. I tried to shout again, but no one heard me.” His eyes widened again. “I should have used the signal. They could have heard the signal. I am so foolish.”

“Nay, Faramir. Do not say that. The signal probably could not have been heard either. The river rushes fiercely after this storm. None could hear either.”

The boy look mollified. “A long time went by and I was shivering. I did not think I could hold on any longer when the current took me close to a jut of land sticking out from this side. Oh! Now I remember! That is how I came over to this side of the river.” He stopped and his face turned red again. “That is when I disobeyed ada. I thought I could reach the shore, so I let go the branch. I started to swim, but it was way too far. I started to go down.” He shivered and felt Aragorn pull him closer. “The river covered my head and I knew I could not swim anymore. Then, suddenly, I felt a horrible pain in my shoulders. I tried to get away from the pain, but it only got worse. So I stopped trying and decided this must be part of death.”

Aragorn drew in a sharp breath.

Faramir bit his lip again and snuggled against Aragorn’s side. “Do you think that…?”

“What is it, Faramir?”

“Do you think,” tears flowed freely and the boy did naught to remove them, “do you think that Boromir was in such pain?”

“Nay, Faramir.” The Ranger pulled the boy onto his lap and gently stroked his hair. “I have been wounded like that many times. After the first wee bit, the pain goes away and all you feel is a little light-headed.”

“Why?”

Aragorn had to smile. Even in the devastation of his thoughts, the boy was still inquisitive. “Because of the loss of blood.”

“Oh. Thank you,” he whispered. He waited another moment, another pull on his lower lip, and then continued. “I was dragged closer to shore and finally could feel the bottom of the river under my feet. I walked and was pulled to the shore. I lay down. I was coughing a lot because of the water. When I looked up,” he returned to whispered words, “I saw an eagle flying away.” He plunged his head into Aragorn’s chest and held tight.

“So that is why there are claw marks on your shoulders. You were very lucky to have been befriended by an eagle. They do not do it often.”

“I thought I dreamed it.”

“Nay. There are eagle marks on your shoulders. You were too big for it to pull you all the way from the water, but they have much strength.”

“Can we find it and thank it?”

“I think it has flown to its home in Mindolluin.”

“Orc’s spit.”

“What did you say?” Aragorn laughed aloud, returning to Westron.

“Do not tell Amma. I heard the soldiers.”

“It is not a curse that should come from your lips as Steward,” Aragorn gently chided. “Now, I would like you to try to eat some stew. Do you think you could?”

“Yes. I am very hungry and all we have eaten on this trip is fish. Not that I do not like fish, I am just tired of it. And Targon really cooks it well. And Borondir seems to think we should eat everything we catch and I just am tired of fish.”

Aragorn laughed again at the spill of words flowing from the boy’s mouth. “You are definitely feeling better. Once you eat,” and he offered a bowl, “we will set out north, take you to Osgiliath. We should be on our way as soon as possible. Your amma is quite worried by now.”

Faramir gulped down the stew and asked for a second bowl, which Aragorn supplied. Shortly afterwards, the boy fell asleep. “So much for leaving quickly,” Aragorn smiled and tucked the boy in a blanket under the lean-to. “Tomorrow will be early enough.”

He sat and pulled out his pipe and wondered that fate should put him here at this time for this boy.