“You need to trust me and tell me about everything,” said Eowyn .

“I…am fearful, and I will with time, my dear lady. You’ve helped me a lot already,” replied Faramir resolutely.

“Then let me help you more,” pleaded Eowyn.

“I don’t want darkness to rob us of love and happiness even now. The war is over, let’s try to mend the hurts it has caused.“

“You need to mend also. You need to tell me how I can help!”

“The dreams- they’re dark and I feel like…falling sometimes and I can’t return if…if…” Faramir grabbed Eowyn’s hand and sank slowly sitting on the bed. “But …I… am on the mend- I’m mending the city and that helps …” 

Tears gathered in his eyes and Eowyn just held him close, stroking his raven hair, whispering words of solace .“You should let the King know about this. He will advise you. And know you’re not alone.”

Faramir gathered himself as best he could, muttering words to assure Eowyn he’ll be alright. He stood up and changed the topic, “I have to propose a toast to you for our impending marriage after all and need your brother, the King's blessing,” Faramir smiled wanly. He took a deep breath and firmly said he would be all right, wished Eowyn well on her trip, and promised that he’ll join her soon.

Eowyn had left the next morning with the Rohirrim. She had insisted he write to her, and Faramir said that he would . They departed after a warm embrace. Faramir looked out West as far as his eyes could see to see any trace of Rohan but of course it was too far. His most beloved, his anchor to the present had departed for the time being.

During the time after the funeral Faramir kept occupied with meetings to rebuild Gondor. He had planning meetings on building memorials, on where homeless would be housed, and for reparations for veteran soldiers’ families. The last part of visiting soldiers’ families was challenging. He visited at least two families daily. He felt pangs of pity and despair for the soldier’s families keenly. However, some of those families were becoming good friends of his. There was one young man named Belegion who especially liked it when Faramir visited him. Belegion had also lost his older brother in battle on the Pelennor Fields. Faramir felt Belegion’s pain of losing a brother as well therefore Faramir also started to feel a strong bond with him.

The dreams did come when he felt anxious or too overwrought, and they were more frequent than from before the funeral and Eowyn leaving. Additionally, there was still a darkness with the dreams he couldn’t understand, and he felt increasingly anxious. 

Faramir relied on a drink or two to help numb his anxiety and fall into uneasy sleep when sleep did not come. He was starting to accumulate empty bottles, but he threw them out before the servants came in. He kept promising himself it would not be a habit. If he had time, he would ask the King about a more healthy way to fall asleep and deal with despair.  However, he always found himself talking only about business with the King, unwilling to let his guard down about his insomnia or dreams even when he inquired. He did not want anyone to worry about him and wanted to deal with his dreams alone.

“Faramir, how do you fare– I shall come and look at you after today’s meetings,” said Aragorn.

“No, I am alright- your sleeping drought has helped, there is no need. My King, please look over this plan for the memorial on the first level–” and Faramir changed the topic quickly.

“Are you certain? It is no inconvenience to me. It would be no difficulty. I will supply another drought since it’s helping.“ Aragorn made a note to himself to do so despite the protests that day. Faramir looked tired and despite the energy he has shown in meetings, he was still concerned.  Faramir looked a bit unfocused and drained, too pale even though he did not admit it.

“I feel fine- I would like to have an answer about this memorial location for the architects tomorrow if you so please. Thank you my lord,” and Faramir bowed, then disappeared into his office with no extra words.

The hobbits would find him when he didn’t have meetings . They asked him how he was faring, if he missed Eowyn, how was his sleep. He always nodded that he was fine.  And he was fine. He couldn’t help but smile and be gladdened at the inquisitiveness of hobbits.

The same day that Aragorn inquired about him, he bumped into Gandalf between meetings in the courtyard of Gondor. Faramir hadn’t spoken to Gandalf for a while and was glad to see him.

“Hobbits are always great companions.”

“Yes, one or two in the company are always good but three to four of them is a blessing indeed,” replied Gandalf. He offered some pipeweed to Faramir and he took it gladly, glad to be smoking with an old friend. He breathed into the weed then felt a bit more relaxed. 

“They are strong and will get through these times; I do worry for Frodo because of the burden that he long carried,” said Gandalf thoughtfully.

Faramir felt pity and wondered about that. Would Frodo find peace in Middle-earth? He really hoped he could find peace eventually. It would be so upsetting if he couldn’t enjoy it given the amount of sacrifice he did. “Do you think he needs to return to his Shire to be at peace?”

“The Shire is also not how we all left it,” said Gandalf gravely. “I fear that it was not safe-guarded during the war so maybe Sauron’s agents have had a chance to enter.”

“Hopefully not,” replied Faramir with a sigh. “The war has taken enough.” He felt suddenly sad and angry again, unable to shake the melancholy. It was unfair what the hobbit had gone through and still had to go through. Was there no respite from defeating the Enemy?

“And how are you feeling, my dear lad?” Gandalf perceived a change in mood and looked into Faramir’s grey, somber eyes.

Faramir hadn’t heard him being called lad for a while and laughed out loud, “Truly, I am grown of age and not that young anymore. I am feeling fine, just keeping occupied. There is a lot to restore. I intend to make memorials in the land that was wrecked by the Enemy in the south lot next to the Silent Street, and make some gardens in the area where that pub was destroyed in the first level…We need to honor the fallen–”

“Faramir, how are you feeling?”

“Do you ask about something particular, or is this a general inquiry?” Why was the wizard asking about him now?  He did not like this question being asked . Everyone meant well, but he could care for himself. He felt strangely agitated, heart rate increased, and turned the other way. But he could not avoid Gandalf’s intense look upon him.

“What I mean is, there is a reason why the hobbits are wondering about you. We want to know how you are and there are dangers to keeping things to yourself. It’s a lot to process these days, and we are all adapting to change.”

“Then please allow yourself to tell me how Denethor passed,” replied Faramir hotly. His turn of character was uncharacteristic, but he suddenly felt frustrated with this important matter. He hadn’t talked to Gandalf about it in detail and maybe it was time to do so. He did not need the truth to be evaded and wanted to make sure of the past so he could go on in the future.

“There is nothing left unsaid that the hobbit Peregrin did not already say,” replied Gandalf calmly. “What else do you want to know about the tragedy?”

What else did he want to know? That was a valid question. “Did he mention me at all? Did he care if I lived or died? Did he want me to accompany him and would that have been a bad thing ? Does he …” Faramir sat down and felt a certain darkness creep back in on the periphery and felt tears in his eyes. Those were the most important questions. But how could anyone give him closure? It was not like he could have a conversation with a dead person. Who really understood Denethor in his last moments ?

“I’m sure he remembered and loved you before the end,” replied Gandalf and he put his hand on Faramir’s shoulder and felt the Steward tense up. “I told you before you left to defend Osgiliath that he’ll remember before the end.  Your father loved you, Faramir.  Cease to think otherwise. You are invaluable as Prince and Steward now . Are you feeling well enough?”

“Only weary all of sudden,” Faramir felt a headache and an odd chill spreading from his shoulder as well. He closed his eyes. He felt light-headed.

“We shall not speak about this– you look very pale.” Gandalf felt Faramir’s quickened heart rate on his arm.  

“No, I am fine,” sighed Faramir and opened his eyes. “Only a headache. Please pardon me.” Faramir took a step forward and involuntarily swayed a bit and sat down again immediately.

But Gandalf held onto Faramir’s arm, preventing him from falling and pressed him, “Are these frequent? You do not look well.” 

“No, I am better now,” Faramir insisted. “Sometimes…sometimes I have headaches. I’ll …I’ll …just take a moment.” He was sitting down already, but it did not help. He panted, peripheral darkness seemed to invade his line of sight; he rubbed his eyes to no avail. He put his hand to his forehead; the headache was overwhelming.

“I am calling for Aragorn to see how you are. We must not be careless,” and Gandalf left in a hurry.

Faramir closed his eyes wearily, breathing hard. Before he knew it, a menacing, smoldering darkness closed in and he was falling, unable to control the descent.

Dark shadows loomed.

A booming voice like his father was in the background, “You’re a wizard’s pupil!!”

It seemed the Enemy had won and made everything darkened and unclean. Black clouds lay upon a red sky. Blood was spilled everywhere. His dead comrades’ bodies lay in the courtyard next to where the White Tree was, some with heads some without, butchered with no remorse . The result of the rout of the Causeway Forts was clearly before him.  Tears and dirt stung his eyes.

It was so cold. He did not feel this cold since he charged forth with his company to retake Osgiliath and he felt the wretched Nazgul at his tail.

No! We had won through, but why was it so dark? He walked and tried to find the way back home and familiarity.

The darkness seemed to want to enclose, but suddenly there was a voice calling him, a light beaming towards him amidst the horror seen.

…

“Faramir! Faramir! Come back, come back to the light.  Faramir! Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad.”

“Faramir!”

He felt strong hands set him up to a sitting position. Athelas permeated the air. He awoke groggily and with great effort, opened his eyes, breathing hard, and looked around and saw the concerned eyes of Aragorn, Gandalf and the hobbits peer at him in worry and distress. A mug of warm tea was given to him to sip. He was lying on the bench in the courtyard.

“What happened? It is … cold and …. dreams were ….awful,” Faramir couldn’t stop shivering though he felt that there were blankets wrapped around him. He was trying to calm down, but his mind was racing.

“The Black Breath still has a hold on you.,” said Aragorn, touching Faramir’s forehead then shoulder which was cool to the touch. “How often are the nightmares?  Your condition was more serious than I thought, Faramir. You were not truthful to me.”

“I think… they …started a week ago, I …am …not certain,” Faramir closed his eyes. His pounding headache would not abate. His shoulder felt numb with cold. He could hardly sit up without aid.

“Then tell us what’s on your mind, be forthcoming!  Please also have some more water,” Aragorn helped hand a mug to the Steward and guided it to his lips.

Faramir sipped the water, “I will be fine–”

“Truly you are not fine. Lady Éowyn and the hobbits also told me about your nightmares. You need to rest,” said Aragorn. “Did you swoon before or this is the first time?”

“I did not swoon before. I was better- this is a sudden onset. I am not sure what caused this,” admitted Faramir. 

“I will give you something for the headaches and shoulder, and I need you to rest for at least the remainder of the day.”

 “Why am I afflicted with the Black Breath? I thought I had healed in the Houses of Healing?  Is Eowyn going to be alright?”

“The Black Breath can occur with feelings of guilt, worry, grief, and being overly burdened. My Lord Faramir, you must rest for at least a couple of days. This is an order,” said Aragorn firmly.  “Lady Eowyn was fine when she left for Rohan. ” 

“The best way to defeat the Black Breath is with relaxation, friends and positive thoughts,” added Gandalf. “You must heed our advice, Faramir.”

“We will make sure you are well taken care of, Lord Faramir,” chipped in Sam. “You are, after all, a man of great quality.”

“Let us know what we can do to help you, Faramir!” The younger hobbits added.

“You must take care and open up; the Black Breath is not going to leave on its own,” said Frodon softly. 

“It’s dark by yourself- you need to tell us about the dreams,” Merry added determinedly.

Faramir did not feel like speaking, he felt abnormally weary, and his headache persisted.  “I will go to my quarters then for rest.”  The pull of the nightmare was so strong he almost felt he couldn’t get out of it before. That has not happened before.

“I will come with you,” Aragorn said. “But I will also need to get some feverfew and a few other herbs from the apothecary for the headache. Gandalf, why don’t you help me escort the Steward? Merry and Sam, please go to the apothecary for the herbs, lavender, honey, chamomile, feverfew and willow bark.”

“Of course!” said Merry.

Gandalf and Aragorn walked arm and arm to bring the Steward back to his home and settled him into his bed, making sure the proper medicines were there with a kettle of water and extra mugs. Aragorn did not want to take a chance with anything. He used an Elvish chant to place Faramir in a healing sleep, one that would not be interrupted by dreams. He set a watch for him and the Fellowship obliged to keep more than one eye on for relapse.

TBC