The sound of laughter coming from the room gave Imrahil pause before he knocked on the door.

“Am I interrupting?” he inquired as he stuck his head in.

“Oh, no, dear Uncle.  Please come in! Halel and I were just reminiscing. Would you care for some wine?”

“Of course, especially since it’s mine.”

Faramir looked at the bottle in mock surprise.  “And so it is.  I inquired as to your whereabouts to ask your permission, but you were nowhere to be seen.  I didn’t think you would mind.”

Imrahil chuckled, “I was going to share it with you later anyway.” 

Faramir, with his arm out of the sling, rose and poured his uncle a glass and then refilled Halel’s.  “My lady.”

Imrahil studied him closely.

Then returning to his chair, Faramir asked, “Where were we?”

Halel sat quietly amidst the hustle and bustle of the camp.  Some of her fellow Rangers were sharpening their blades.  Others were testing the tension of their bow strings.  A couple of the green- and brown-clad soldiers were hanging wash out on lines strung between trees while others were mending their gear and clothing.  Faramir and a few more crouched nearby around a cook fire.  The smell of salt pork frying wafted through the air.  Men spoke in hushed tones.  Every now and then, Halel could hear a soft laugh.  She smiled to herself as she returned her thoughts to her journal.  “They have no idea.”  There was something empowering about keeping a secret.  Yet, it was nevertheless becoming an increasingly unbearable burden.  She longed to tell someone, but she knew she couldn’t.  Her journal was her only outlet, especially since Beriandir was killed.  She sighed and dipped her quill pen in the inkwell.  As she began to write, a shadow darkened her paper.   

“Who are you writing?  Your wife?”  The voice was mocking rather than genuinely inquisitive.

Halel never bothered looking because she knew who it was.

“No, yours.”  With that, she glared up at him.

Faramir, with his back to the pair a short distance away, nearly choked on the water he was drinking.  When he had recovered, he rose, turned, and quickly strode over to them, “Damlind, please relieve Tonnor from picket duty.”

“Aye, Captain.”

They watched him retrieve his bow and quiver and depart through the forest.  Once out of sight, Halel looked up at the tall captain and smiled sadly at him.  He squatted down in front of her.

“Come join us and partake of our morning fare,” he offered. Beriandir reminded him of Boromir, and with Halel’s brother – at least as he knew him to be at the time – dead, Faramir now felt a need to look after the youngster as his own brother had done for him.  

“That is very kind of you, sir, but I will respectfully decline.”

“As you wish,” and with that he rose and returned to the cook fire where he made a plate.  He brought it to Halel and silently set it down next to her as she wrote.  Making his way back to the fire, he couldn’t help but smile.

 Imrahil, slouched forward in the chair with his arms on his thighs and head bowed, shook his head as he laughed.  Faramir was laughing as well.

Halel merely smiled wanly and shrugged.

“Damlind liked to harass me.  I had to constantly remain on guard when he was about.  I always wondered if he knew.”

“Oh, I think it was because he doubted your abilities as a soldier due to your small size and your apparent young age.  He was perhaps trying to run you off.”

“You probably didn’t know this, but he died helping me get you on your horse.  He was shot in the eye.  It will forever haunt me.”

Faramir leaned forward in his seat and looked down at the floor, elbows on his knees, glass in his hands.  After a time, he straightened and held it aloft in his good hand. “To our honored dead.”

Imrahil and Halel followed suit.

Faramir drained his glass and gazed at Halel.  She looked more pale and weak than she had previously.  He wondered about other horrors to which she bore witness, horrors women shouldn’t behold.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.  Lindion entered carrying bandages and medicines.

“My Lord Faramir, Terevion…..my Lord, please put your arm in the sling….Terevion is looking for you.”

Faramir rubbed the back of his neck and winced.  “Of course.”  And then putting the glass on the stand and rising while sliding his arm into the linen, he declared flatly, “I am returning to my chamber. He may find me there.”

Imrahil also rose.  Picking up his bottle of wine, he informed Faramir, “I need to speak with you, nephew, so I will accompany you.”

Both men bid Halel farewell before departing the room.

***************************

“Feisty,” observed Imrahil as he sat in the chair, one leg crossed casually over the other.

“Indeed.  She endured no one’s discourtesy,” replied Faramir sitting on the edge of his bed and facing his uncle.  He struggled to remove his tunic in anticipation of Terevion’s inspection.  Imrahil rose to help him. 

At that moment, the healer knocked and entered. 

“How do you fare this morning, my Lord?”

“As well as could be expected.”

Terevion removed the bandage and probed around the wound, causing Faramir to grimace.  He next took the captain by the arm and, to gauge his reaction, slowly rotated it in various motions, Faramir’s toned chest and arms flexing as he did so.  The wounded man gasped and gritted his teeth.

The healer sighed as he opened the jar and rubbed a balm over the shoulder.  After binding the wound with a fresh bandage, he gathered his medicines and towels.

“I shall see you tomorrow, my Lord.” He bowed and departed.

Faramir grunted as he struggled to don his tunic.  And again, his uncle assisted him.

With Faramir dressed, Imrahil returned to his chair and gazed at his nephew.

“You have an affinity for the woman.”

“I do care….”

“….as a captain would for one of his soldiers,” Imrahil quickly interrupted as he leaned forward. 

After a short pause, Imrahil reclined once more, crossed his legs, rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, and steepled his fingers.

“Not this pose again.”

“Have I spoken to you before about Galron’s, past?”

Faramir quietly shook his head.

“He was married to a lovely lady from this city.  Colleth was her name.  Delightful couple.  She was a wonderful cook.  Galron loved her tremendously and wanted to share in her interests, so he learned from her.  They would invite my family and me for dinner at times.”  He smiled, “I always accepted with great pleasure.”

Imrahil continued, “And then I sent him away on some mission.  I don’t even recall what it was anymore.  Colleth decided to take that time to visit her family here, though she was with child, their first.  For safety, she traveled with a small group of people also journeying hither.  None of them ever arrived.  They all just……disappeared.  It is apparent that some ill had befallen them.  This happened about a year ago, and none of them have ever been found.  Galron nearly went mad with grief and would have fallen on his sword had I not walked in on him and saved him.  He had searched for her for months to no avail.  He is perhaps searching still.”

After a moment of silence, Imrahil went on, “He made the most delectable meal yesterday though I am not sure how he managed to forage all the items he used for it.”  He continued with a serious tone in his voice, “It seems this was the first time in a long while that he felt inclined to engage in the culinary arts.”

He paused and studied his nephew again. 

And then he shrugged and threw up his hands, “Well, I assume the fare was delectable!  I was never allowed to partake of any of it.  It…was… all…for….Halel.”

At that moment, Faramir understood. He gazed down at the floor and slowly nodded his head.

Imrahil paused to allow his nephew time to both reflect on all he had just heard, and to recover for what he was about to learn.

“But on to other things.  I am departing in the morning with the host.  We ride for the Black Gate.”

Faramir looked at him, his countenance full of concern, and he reached out to put his hand on top of Imrahil’s.

“Uncle, do take care.”

Imrahil exhaled, “I shall.”

For the first time, Faramir detected a sense of doubt in his uncle, a veteran soldier. 

The chimes of the clock were deafening.  Imrahil ran his fingers through his raven hair.  His sea-grey eyes locked onto Faramir’s.

“Faramir, are you aware of your father?”

Faramir shook his head, “The healers have not allowed me to see him.  I know he must surely be displeased with me.  But nevertheless, why has he not come to my side at least? 

Imrahil cleared his throat.  “I wanted to see you today ere I departed in order to answer that question….”