The next day, Faramir opened his eyes to sunshine peeping through the curtain outside. Had he slept the day away? He felt like he was getting over a long bout of flu. He sat up in bed gingerly, seeing that his shoulder was wrapped again and there were many blankets and herbal teas at his bedside.

Yesterday’s events came to Faramir in pieces. He remembered being pulled out of dark dreams, the kind which left him disoriented. He remembered a bit too much attention given by the hobbits, Aragorn and even his uncle. But weren’t they just dreams? 

He would not like to dwell. He stood up gingerly and pulled the curtains open with his good hand and felt the warming sunshine in his limbs. He was heartened by sunshine. He quickly dressed, ready to leave his room, but he was met with a hobbit at his door.

“Good morning, Steward! Where do you think you are going?” Pippin was there  outside, barring the door. “King’s orders are to rest! Have you forgotten? How are you feeling? Aragorn will come soon and tell me you cannot exit.”

Faramir laughed, “But I am better today. I feel fine. I have no headache. What time is it?”

“King’s orders- rest for a few days. It is almost two hours till noon. You were quite ill, Steward,” replied Pippin gravely. “Just last night! Do you not remember?”

Faramir sighed. “All right, may I be directed to some food- surely a good meal is something that I desire.”

“I will make the order known!” Pippin dashed towards the kitchen. 

Faramir did feel an ache in his shoulder, glad it was not as cold as the day before, and he did not feel as fatigued. He was glad the weather was fair for he did desire to have a change of scenery. He could also pick up the reading his uncle left for him.

Pippin returned with a tray of food, and Aragorn followed the hobbit into Faramir’s room.

“How are you feeling, Steward?”

“I am feeling better, thank you, King, for your help yesterday,” said Faramir with a bow to the King. His appetite returned, and he was glad Pippin brought him a hearty breakfast. He hadn’t felt hungry for a long while.

Aragorn checked Faramir’s vitals and shoulder, then asked, “Do you want to talk about the nightmares from yesterday?”

“I will after this meal.” Faramir didn’t realize how long he did not eat. He did sleep most of yesterday away which meant he didn’t eat for at least twenty-four hours.

The Steward was still reticent after the meal so Aragorn started, “As we said yesterday, I am not sure if you remember- the Black Breath may give nightmares that are not true.   You need to be aware and try to change the outcome. You need to tell me when it happens. It is very dangerous to just leave them be. Can you tell me about what happens?”

“I dreamt about fire and death,” Faramir started. “I dreamt that we have…lost. Gondor has lost,” Faramir looked out in the window to avoid Aragorn’s piercing glance. He shuddered in recollection.

“But we have not. My Steward, we have succeeded. I understand this is a transition time but you have to stay present. Change the dream if you can. You have to let us know about them.”

“Did you have any headache today? We have something for you for that. Do not take anything else but the healing teas prescribed. Again, you are not expected at meetings or work for the next couple days.”

Faramir opened his mouth and wanted to object, but instead said, “Yes, my Lord. When can I report back ? There is much to do—”

“Not till you are mostly nightmare and headache free- and you have to be honest with me,” replied Aragorn sternly. “You should also take chamomile honey lavender tea before bed to aid your sleep. If you have a headache, I have prepared something for that as well.”

‘In the meantime, you are to relax and relax some more,” said Pippin. “You can keep Frodo and Sam busy, perhaps– they have no duties but to relax.”

“Are they recovering well? When are the hobbits departing ?”

 “Not until after mid-Summer at least,” replied Aragorn. “There is an event that I wish them to stay for. You included. Frodo and Sam are recovering- they have gone through a long ordeal, but hobbits are resilient.”

Faramir wondered at the event but did not probe. “Very well. I will be staying put until you permit me to return to my duties, my King.”

“Thank you- you shall get better with time. You have been working ceaselessly since the coronation - you deserve a rest.”

“It is the least I can do for you and for Gondor,” said Faramir quietly . Faramir didn’t think he was doing enough or without enough speed to make the city great again . 

Aragorn seemed to read his mind and clasped Faramir’s hand, “The city will recover soon enough. We need you to recover as well.  Do not take these ailments lightly!”

“Thank you, my King, I am trying to,” replied Faramir with a sigh. 

“Very well, you are to rest and keep your mind light with light thoughts if you can. I will come by later today to see how you fare. There are teas for better rest and for headaches if they occur again.”

Faramir was not alone when he rested that day- a string of visitors from hobbits to his uncle to even Gandalf came to see how he was, and he was not used to this much attention. They walked out in the garden when the sun shone brightly. They talked about the hobbits’ plans when they returned to the Shire, about Eowyn, about Imrahil’s plans when he returned to Dol Amroth. It was not till late afternoon when he became tired and told his friends he needed a respite.

Faramir did not want to nap, but his head felt heavy. He did not want to fall into dreams. The sun was setting and another day was passing. Faramir remembered he intended to write to Eowyn but he did not want to talk about himself. Reluctantly, he did start to write, but several drafts in, nothing came to mind, so he crumpled the papers and threw the drafts into the waste. He didn’t want Eowyn to worry about him and had nothing interesting to report. Instead, he picked up a book about Numenorian history and started to read.  He inadvertently dozed off on his armchair.

There was a smell of salt water and persistent waves were crashing down upon a foundation of stone. The structure had fallen and the powerful waves had crushed its once spectacular establishment. There was only a remnant of a citadel that stood. Another once proud head of a statue was no more, chipped away by the constant waves that would not relent. There was seaweed on the sand. A strong smell of sea water pervaded his senses.

The wave towered over an entire city, and Faramir could almost feel the water upon him. He started to run.

Suddenly, thunder and lightning was in the background as the dark billowing clouds threatened closer, coming to envelope the old stone structures and him. He heard someone weeping for his son, but could not make out who it was and why he heard that. Drops of rain fell from the overcast sky. 

Now hues of turquoise and blue swirled about. He felt cold dark sand upon his toes. The wave still threatened from a distance and started to envelope all, even him. The sky had darkened more. The beautiful blue was no more. The wind was picking up and gusty gales of sea water and spray doused him. Dark wraiths on wings suddenly appeared and tried to snatch Faramir but he kept running and escaped by a narrow margin. The wraiths and the waves were gaining on him. He slipped on the cool sand upon the puddles of salt water. He tried to stand up but suddenly, it went cold and dark. 

TBC