The peregrine’s cry startled Faramir and he pulled his head up; a small smile lit his face. ‘Strider is still nearby,’ he thought, for the call came from very close. After another few moments, the cry was repeated. Faramir’s eyelids started to sag; he was very tired. He kept telling himself he must stay awake, but when his head nodded, he did not note and slept peacefully.

“Faramir!” The call was not his first and Aragorn was becoming anxious. For all his tracking skills, the dead of night was not the time to try to find a boy left in a bramble bush in the middle of nowhere. The moonless night gave them cover from enemies, but it also made it extremely difficult to try to see anything at all. “Faramir!” His tone became more strident. ‘I know I left him here. Where can he be?’ Another quick search around the bush where he was sure he had left the boy produced naught but a few scratches. “Faramir!” he cautiously called a little louder, hoping he would find the boy before he was forced to light a torch.

“Strider?”

“Faramir!” Relief flooded the Ranger. “Where are you?”

“Here.” The bushes in front of him rustled. Faramir quickly rose to his feet. The tears had long since dried, but he suddenly realized in shame that the tracks would betray his fear. He wiped his arm over his face.

“Why did you not answer? I have called a number of times.”

“I fell asleep,” the boy shamefacedly admitted. “I am sorry.”

“Nay. As long as you are well. Now, come. I have found the cave, Faramir. It is quite close and is large enough for our horses. Come and follow me, but quietly. We will walk and lead the horses behind.”

Faramir nodded, then realized the Ranger would not be able to see. “I will follow you.”

“Keep close.”

The blackness of the night seemed to get blacker, in Faramir’s eyes, until he realized that it was a cliff that obscured whatever light was left them. He watched as Aragorn moved slowly up a path, dragging both horses after him.

“Take your time,” the Ranger whispered. “There is no danger if you stay on the path. There are quite a few bushes on the cliffside. If you touch one, you know you are too close to the edge.”

Within a half hour’s time, Faramir felt Aragorn stop. “The entrance is here. It is quite high. The horses will not have a problem entering. I have cut some brush to cover the opening, once we are inside. No fire again this night, I am sorry to say, Faramir.”

The boy quickly followed into the depths of a blackness that suddenly frightened him. It reminded him of the blackness of the river as it flowed over his head and he found he had difficulty breathing. Strider was at his side instantly. The Ranger held him tightly. “I am sorry we have to endure this, Faramir. What frightens you so?”

“I… It feels like the river trying to drown me.”

“Black as the depths of a river is this cave. Again, I am sorry. Here, take my hand and I will lead you to a little shelf. You may sit on it whilst I settle the horses.”

“Nay,” Faramir drew back, hating to leave the warmth of the Ranger’s arms, “I am your esquire. I should take care of the horses.”

“I do not think you will be able to see well enough to untack the horses. Take the bags off them at the least and I will finish the job.”

Within but a few moments, their horses were ready to be groomed; the Ranger had left the bridles on. Upon Faramir’s insistence, Aragorn handed a brush to the boy. “You should be able to do this in your sleep. We will not do the tails tonight.”

Faramir laughed; the feeling of his pony’s sleek shoulder under his hand gave him a sense of comfort. He began to brush, but the pony sidled away from him.

Aragorn stepped next to him. “Wait a moment. The little one is frightened. I will hold the reins while you brush him.”

Faramir nodded, surprised that his normally docile mount was frightened of him. “He knows me,” his voice trembled.

“It is dark; we are in a cave, not his comfortable stall, and he cannot even see you. Talk to him, Faramir. Let him hear your voice. He knows you, yes, but he is frightened. As are you.”

Faramir swallowed. “I am only a little bit frightened.”

Aragorn moved one hand from the reins and touched Faramir’s brushless hand. “You hide it well, my esquire.”

The little pony was quickly finished and Faramir took the reins. “I can take this off myself.”

“Good. I will finish my horse; we will leave the hooves till morning. Now, let us try to get some rest. I have some dried meat and water in the bags you took from my horse. Settle yourself, eat and drink, and then sleep, if you can. I know not what the morrow brings, Faramir.”

Holding his hands out and recounting his steps, the boy soon found himself again at the little shelf. He sat down and pulled one of the bags to him. Rummaging around with his fingers, he felt a cloth, pulled it out and unwrapped it. The sweet smell of fresh made bread made him choke with unexpected joy. He tried to compose himself and felt further, discovering another wrapped item and, upon opening it, found it to be lamb stew. He licked his fingers and wished for a fire. He could not eat lamb cold. Rummaging a bit more caused him to find another wrapper. This one contained some dried meat. The boy placed the meat and the bread, both still half-wrapped, onto the shelf. He knew he had felt oranges and reinvestigated the bag. Sure enough, four large ones touched his fingers. He sighed in delight.

Aragorn laughed aloud. “And what has caused such heartfelt appreciation?”

“I found oranges. And fresh bread.”

“Good,” he felt the Ranger sit next to him. “I am starved.”

They ate ravenously, finding that the comfort of food helped dispel the coldness of the dark cave. When at last they were sated, Aragorn stood up. “I want to take one more quick look outside. I will be back in a moment. Here is a blanket, wrap yourself in it and rest now.”

“Mayn’t I come with you?”

“Faramir, I promise I will not leave the cave, just see what I can see from the entrance. You will probably be able to see my outline, once I reach the entrance.”

The boy nodded. “I will just sit here and wait for you.”

Aragorn sighed, “Very well, Faramir, but keep silent.”

As Aragorn had promised, Faramir could indeed see the outline of the Ranger at the cave’s mouth. He sighed and leaned against the wall. Nothing stirred and the silence rattled him. He started to hum a little tune, something Boromir…. The boy bit his lip. ‘You would enjoy this adventure, Boromir,’ he wept quietly. ‘You always did love camping.’

“Faramir! What ails you?” The Ranger had returned.

The boy shook his head. Aragorn embraced him, held him close, and whispered words of encouragement. At last, Faramir quieted. “Boromir loved to camp, you know.”

“Then he will enjoy watching us.”

The lad’s eyes opened wide. “Do you think he can see us?”

“Not so well in this darkest of caves, but I can imagine he knows we are here and is enjoying your discomfiture.”

“He would not! He loves me.”

Aragorn held the boy a little tighter. “I tease you. He does love you, Faramir. As do I,” he whispered in surprise.

~*~

The sound of horses’ hooves upon the road caused the entire company to stiffen as one. Gondor’s horses could feel their riders’ unease and began to prance about. Sharp tugs on reins were instantly greeted with obedient stillness.

Lower the sun sank; Indis hoped Haleth would reach them before blackness covered the land. The sky was overcast and their would be no appreciable light. She chided herself for not ordering torches.

As if upon her thought, torches were ignited, hundreds of them. It seemed every man in the over two hundred that lined the road, carried a torch. Indis smiled. “Listöwel,” she whispered.

“Yes, my Regent. I thought it would be more effective than a trap. Let them see what they are up against. You do not want the slaying of kin; this should pound some sense into someone in Haleth’s company; there must be one at least who is not spell-fixed.”

Durahil rode forward. “Indis! My men have arrived. I have positioned them along the rode. We now number four hundred against his paltry one. This show of force will surely win the day.” His smile was wide. “I return now to my men.”

“Wait!” Indis called out. “Have one hundred of your men go to the back and join Imrahil and Valanestel. If Haleth sees our strength and retreats instead of surrendering, then I would have Imrahil’s forces reinforced."

Durahil saluted and rode away. Indis laughed with relief. “Four hundred against one hundred and two spell-fixed.” She shuddered. “I hope it is enough.”

The enemy saw the torches and stopped about a furlong from the main force. Indis sheathed her sword and touched her horse’s flanks with her heels. The horse started forward and Listöwel, with a slight cry, joined her, as did Durahil, both sheathing their swords also. They rode in silence to greet the company that came against them.

“Haleth, son of Dagnir of Tarnost,” Indis cried loudly. “You are under arrest for treason. Surrender yourself and I promise mercy.”

She watched as fear flitted across the boy’s face. Almost, she could pity him. “Release your men to Captain-General Listöwel. Offer your sword to me and I will return it.”

Haleth looked to his left and his right. Ragnhild was on his right. Indis’ former counselor stiffened and shook her head vigorously, but the boy seemed to be listening to a man on his left. At last, Haleth rode forward, alone. Dismounting, he strode towards Indis’ mount. Immediately, Listöwel and Durahil unsheathed their swords and jumped from their own horses.

“Cease!” Indis cried aloud. “I have offered Lord Haleth mercy.” She slipped from her steed and walked forward.

“Indis,” Listöwel frantically whispered. “It is a trap. He will not offer his sword; he will gut you with it.”

“Stay back, Listöwel.” Indis moved forward. She could not quite control the shivering that took her, but she forced herself into a slow walk towards the traitor. Fear ran rampant in the boy’s eyes, but she could feel surrender. How, she knew not. Mayhap a bit of Denethor’s prescience finally had been gifted to her. “Lord Haleth, deliver up your sword.”

The boy stopped and looked about him one more time, then stepped forward, knelt upon one knee, and offered his sword to the Lady of Gondor.