Fire.

There was fire and it felt unnaturally hot, a glimpse of his father in grief in his last moments… he did cry for him, setting a vigil, but was it really real?

Then Boromir appeared in a boat, his face pale but still beautiful in death. The sound of the horn was still so close but he could do nothing to help him at the last moment.

“Do you know why I favor Boromir?”

“Do you know why you are second best?”

“No, father, I only try my best but why is that not enough? Where does my allegiance lie if not here?”

“Why would it be enough? You are a wizard’s pupil and not my son!”

“I wish for your places to be exchanged!”

Then it was dark and cold. A sense of foreboding so strong he could barely breathe overwhelmed him. He tried to center himself but could not. The cold strengthened and the dark became a tangible thing.

 “Faramir ! Wake up! It’s just a dream!”

Faramir sat up, thrashed about, gasping, breathing hard. Strong arms prevented him from falling. He felt both cold and hot.  Tears gathered in his eyes, terrified.  It was the middle of the night.

“Faramir, just a dream. Just a dream. Wake, my lad. Wake!” 

Faramir opened his eyes blearily and saw Aragorn and Imrahil beside him. A smell of athelas cleared him from the dark dreams, and a warm mug of water was placed in his lips. His shoulder was cold and aching, almost numb, but he felt a warm compress on it. Cold sweat had accumulated on his forehead. He closed his eyes again.

“Sorry–”

“There is no need to apologize. Please tell us what happened.”

“It was dark, felt like I’m falling …I am….lost,” Faramir hadn’t been so honest for a long time. “Why …can’t …I control this?” He opened his eyes searching Aragorn’s eyes for answers.

“You will. You have to let us know how you truly feel.”

“My dear lad, you need to be honest,” his uncle added. Imrahil held Faramir’s hand which was cold.  

Faramir thought about the last time he was honest– it has been so long since he truly did what he wanted. His whole life was for Gondor or his father or of duty. He sighed and closed his eyes and leaned back into his pillows. It was hard to even know what he truly desired at times. The war had taken so much, but he had told Eowyn and himself once the Ring was destroyed that there was hope and the darkness would not endure. Why was it so easy to tell others that and not believe it wholly himself?

“Faramir? We are with you. Please open up to us.”

“It will… take… time,” he said slowly as he opened his eyes to see the concerned faces of the King and Prince upon him, glad that it was not dark, that he was not swallowed up in the darkness that threatened.  “I dreamt of Boromir…in the funeral boat…I miss him,” he said quietly. “I dreamt– of Father dismissing me,” tears came to his eyes.

“Yes, we understand that. I miss Boromir too. I am glad you realize that we all need time, especially you. You will defeat the darkness. Share more with us if you can,” said Aragorn gently, putting his arm on Faramir’s shoulder.  

Faramir shivered, “I can’t right now– I…am …fearful.”

“Calm, my lad. You will be alright. We are here.” Aragorn prepared some more athelas for Faramir and double checked the compress upon his shoulder. “Take a deep breath. You are safe.”

“I’m staying in Minas Tirith for a while,” added Prince Imrahil. “My favorite nephew seems to need some support.  You are not alone.”

“Thank you. I did not know you were here in the city.”

“I heard from the King that you are not well and I want to be here for you,” said Prince Imrahil.

Faramir glanced at Aragorn. “You need as many people around you as possible to get through the Black Breath.”

“I brought your favorite books from the library,” said Prince Imrahil, trying to keep his nephew distracted from the fear and grief.

“Why thank you,” replied Faramir with a smile. He had not read for leisure for a while, being obsessed with Gondor’s recovery. It would be nice to read his favorite poetry and history. He was glad for his uncle’s kindness .

“Rest again and fear no darkness. You are safe amongst friends and family. We need you, Steward. Show us your strength as you always have. Now I'm going to take a rest and let me know if you need anything. Please be forthcoming. I will come first thing in the morning.  If you cannot sleep, there is a natural Elvish herb that can aid in anxiety and sleeplessness.” Aragorn left some instructions to Imrahil for the teas. 

“Thank you, my King. I appreciate your care.” Faramir said. 

Prince Imrahil stayed at his nephew’s bedside. Faramir was not speaking and looked towards the window deep in thought.  He still looked weary and pale, face pinched in weariness.

“What are you wondering about, dear nephew? You know you can speak to me. As the King said, you are safe amongst us– please do not walk alone in the shadows.”

“I am a bit afraid to fall back asleep– the last two times, the dreams seem to pull me down and I have trouble waking.”

“How long has this been happening?”

“A week or so…I thought I was alone–”

“You are never alone, my lad,” said Imrahil. “I am still here.” He looked at his only nephew with love. He had always thought that Finduilas’ second son was special and did not understand Denethor’s preference for Boromir. He had always encouraged and advised Faramir, and Faramir had shown tremendous fortitude and strength throughout the campaign against the Enemy. There was a reason why the Gondorian people held Faramir to high esteem.

“Don’t forget you are loved and respected among many.  Let us be there for you. Speak your mind and feel free to rest –the King said you still have the Black Breath- you need to focus on the positive. You are strong and brave. If you’re well enough tomorrow or day after, we can take a ride out of the city, concentrate on the beauty that remains in our lands instead of just rebuilding.”

“Thank you,” Faramir sighed and did feel encouraged by his kin’s thoughts. “That is a good recommendation.” The coldness abated a bit, but his heart was still racing.  He could not stop thinking of the darkness. His shoulder throbbed.  It was some time before his heart slowed to normal and he ceased shaking.

“What troubles you, my lad?” “Are you still in pain?”

“A headache,” said Faramir as he closed his eyes and leaned back into the pillows. 

“The King prescribed this tea for headaches. Please have some.” Imrahil gave Faramir another mug with a strong feverfew herb tea mixed with chamomile flavor. Faramir sipped it slowly.

“Now you can rest, my lad.” Imrahil held onto Faramir’s hand to ease his shaking, giving one more blanket to wrap around Faramir’s body. He lay his hand on his forehead.  “Do you want to talk some more?”

Faramir shook his head. If he were alone, he would have some wine but he did not want anyone to know he had depended on it. He wanted that route to be temporary. The tea helped too and slowly, he started to feel a bit drowsy and closed his eyes reluctantly.

TBC