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“Are you all right?” asked an anxious Pippin.

“Why, yes, I believe so,” Faramir turned to his good side and peered at the hobbit when he recovered in the Houses of Healing. “I have had strange dreams, but I'm glad to be awake.”

“Do you need water or food or anything?” Pippin was eager to help. He was helping Merry right before, but Merry had fallen asleep, so he went to the next room to see that the Steward had awakened. He was worried for so long that Faramir would not recover, but Beregond had told him that Faramir had awakened after Aragorn had seen him. He was so glad his efforts with Gandalf were not in vain.

“I need some water,” Faramir felt parched and still weary, but his mind was racing with thoughts. “Tell me, what has happened since the Siege? Which day is today? Where is my father? No one has told me details yet. Do you know?” Faramir looked at Pippin expectedly.

Pippin fidgeted nervously. Gandalf had told him not to tell Faramir anything so he decided to answer in bits and avoid the topic of the Steward.  He poured a glass of water for Faramir and spoke slowly.

“He is not here, but I do not know the details. How do you fare? You've gone through a lot.” Pippin evasively gave as many details about Faramir’s health and what day it was instead of about Denethor.

“The battle and the arrow ... .” Faramir closed his eyes. “We were sorely outnumbered. I wonder which of my men are still alive…” He paused and felt dizzy at the prospect of knowing the truth. “Do you know anything else? I must see MIthrandir or my uncle- they will know about Father and what other information I seek to know.”

“You will know in time,” said PIppin gently. “For now, please recover. Strider only helped you out of the Black Breath and fever hours ago.  Please let me know if you need anything.” Pippin looked at Faramir with pity and concern. He knew why Gondorians held him to high esteem- even in healing, Faramir seemed like a humble unassuming man. Pippin felt glad that he told Gandalf to save his life even though others were not saved.

Faramir thought about the battle and his father and sometimes images of fire would persist in his dreams. His whole right side was sore, and he couldn't move properly. He sighed and looked out the window; the weather was overcast with dark clouds hanging. Before he could ask anything else, Ioreth came with some assistants with some bandages and medicinal teas to tend to him.

“We need a moment –we must make sure the wound is getting better and to tend to the Steward,” said Ioreth to the hobbit signaling him to leave.

“I’ll be back later, Lord Faramir– don’t worry, just recover for now,” reassured Pippin.

“Thank you, please come soon again.” Faramir did not know at this time, but he felt some strange affinity to the hobbit and indeed he wanted his company for he felt quite alone and still weak. 

Ioreth and the assistant nurses changed the wound, gave Faramir some medicine, coaxed him to some broth, and left him with instructions to not overtax himself since it was the first time he had awakened for several days.  Faramir was in no mood to do more than lie in bed and think about all that has happened. However, he felt drowsy and before he could ask for the hobbit or his uncle or Mithrandir, he fell into deep slumber.

It was nighttime when Faramir awoke again and he felt stronger than the previous time but he had strange dreams that hung in his consciousness that he could not fully make out. He really wanted some answers to why he was Steward and what happened to Father. A pang of sorrow took over his thoughts but fortunately, a familiar face was next to him when he woke. 

“My Lord, glad to see you up- how are you feeling? Do you need anything immediate?” Beregond helped his Lord to a sitting position, helping Faramir to some water.

“Tell me, Beregond, where is Father and why won't anyone say anything to me on where he is but address me as Steward? I know it is something awful that has happened to him?” 

Beregond also looked down and did not look at Faramir. “He perished at the war–”

“But how?”

“You will know in time but the healers instructed me to help you with whatever you need –are you hungry or in pain?”

The pain of not knowing everything was what was on Faramir’s mind, but he knew it was serious if no one would tell him. He felt numb and weary of asking for more and he assessed he did need time with his physical state.

“Do you know who found me on the field and brought me forth? How long have I been in bed?”

“Prince Imrahil brought you forth from battle. You suffered from an arrow wound from a Southron. You were non responsive, in deep fever for many days- no one could bring you forth from the fever– we thought you …you would have…perished,” said Beregond with tears in his eyes.  “But thank goodness for the King who drew you from your dark dreams.”

“Yes, I did see the King come back and that is hopeful. Do you know where he is now?”

“I believe he was tending to others that were sorely hurt including another hobbit and a lady of Rohan but now the Lords are planning one last stand at the Black Gate.”

“Another stand? Then I must fight alongside everyone - when are you leaving?” 

“I do not think you are able in your state,” Beregond said softly.  “We are leaving tomorrow.”

Faramir didn’t want to admit that Beregond was right. His whole right side was bandaged and his sword hand was sore. He was weary, and he was recovering from a terrible bout of fever. He needed to try to stand, but a wave of nausea hit him and he lay back down, flushed and embarrassed at his weakness.

“Do you know if the healers can come to tell me when I am able to be myself?” asked Faramir.

“I will bring them forward as you wish, my Lord,” replied Beregond and he went to find Ioreth.

“My lord, so glad to see you awake.  The King has left instructions that you are to recover your strength for you are our Steward now, and we need you to be in optimal health to help with the recovery of the city.  You are to take poppy seed for pain and we will have healers help with shoulder mobility.  If you cannot sleep, we have something for that too. Please let us know. Tke your time to regain your strength, Steward! The Warden will see if you are able to walk in the garden tomorrow,” said Ioreh as she changed some cloths for Faramir and made sure he received the next meal.

Faramir did not want to lay idle as the war was not over, but it seemed that Beregond read his mind, “Do not worry, my lord. The King, Mithrandir, the future king of Rohan, and your uncle are to ride to our last stand. I am going as well with Pippin that visited you before.”

“Pippin? Yes, I met him again. I hope that you will both return unharmed at the Black Gate if that is indeed the strategy that Mithrandir advises.”

“Yes, and when we return, you will be well enough to order us in the new age,” said Beregond. He was saying this to ease Faramir and to make him less worried. Beregond did not know what would happen at the last stand, and he felt he was speaking more of unrealistic hope than what he truly felt.

Faramir sighed. “Go with the hope of all of MIddle-earth, Beregond. Please keep safe.  Please keep safe,” Faramir repeated. Faramir still had more questions than answers but pressing for answers made him feel anxious and Beregond did not speak anymore, busying himself with helping Faramir with food, drink and anything he may need.

“Look after my Bergil, will you? He is around and he can also serve you,” said Beregond.

“Thank you- I will be sure to.”

Just then, Pippin made an appearance again. “Lord Faramir, so glad to see you awake- how are you feeling?”

“Better than most- be careful at the Black Gate, Pippin. Hope we will exchange stories soon when you return,” said Faramir.

“Yes, I hope we will return to see you and to tell you how we managed,” said Pippin. He just hoped that he could help Frodo and Sam with more time and he wanted, more than anything, to make a difference for his friends.

TBC