WE BAND OF BROTHERS

Paola Cartoceti

Night had fallen on the White City, a night from which few of us hoped to awaken. I was patrolling the Eastern Wall on the sixth level, straining my eyes to catch a glimpse of the enemy writhing in the distance under the red glare of Orodruin. Several of my men glanced at me, eyes feverish and cheeks pale under the metal helmets. I smiled at them, glad of their grateful looks, distressed by my own despair.
    "Are we going to make it through, sir?" asked an off-duty sentry, sitting with a sleepy face against a rampart. He was so young he would believe whatever I told him. "Is there something more I can do to help?"
    "Your duty now is to get a few hours' sleep, my brother," I told him. "We have to stay alive till tomorrow, and then the day after. There is nothing else to do."
    It was the usual prattle, but it seemed to work. The lad smiled back at me, nodded and laid down his head on his arms.
    "How now, Irolas?" said a weary voice behind me. "Should you not be with your family tonight?"
    I turned, and there stood the Captain, still wrapped in his green cloak, his hood drawn up. A tight smile cut his face as he looked at me with head slightly bowed. A shadow of beard in the Northern style made him gaunter than how I had seen him that afternoon at a distance.
    "My lord," I exclaimed, falling on my knee. My men saluted quickly and then turned again to their duty, whispering quietly.
    "Get up," Lord Faramir replied. "Neither protocol nor I ever required this."
    "But sir," I began, as he grasped my elbow to pull me to my feet. I marvelled at the strength that was left to him. As we stood once more face to face, my words deserted me. I had just given tribute to the man I had seen bring back what was left of the Osgiliath garrison that very day, withstanding an attack of five Nazgūl. It had nothing to do with protocol.
    I paused, took a deep breath. "My condolences for your loss, Captain," I said at last, as though it were an explanation. It had to be said, since we had not seen each other for a long time, but I knew he had been receiving condolences all day. The affection of a whole city can be overwhelming. And indeed he only nodded and thanked me with a small gesture.
    He went on with his walk, and I fell into a slow step with him. "I sent my folks to a safer place in the inner city," I explained as we oversaw the ramparts and the men ready to defend them. "We have already said our farewells."
    Faramir nodded, clearly not wanting to question the safety of any place under the growing shadow of the Enemy. He walked in silence for a while, then said, "I had to leave Madril behind, too."
    "Alas, I surmised as much," I whispered, "when I did not see him with you. I am sorry."
    The Captain looked out, his jaws tightening. "I cannot stand the thought of his body in the hands of the Orcs."
    I shivered. I could not dwell on it either. We both had known Madril since we were lads, the faithful old sergeant, a kinsman of the ruling house of the Stewards. I turned to Faramir, and saw in his eyes that he was not turning away from the horror that lay in Osgiliath that night.
    "His soul is at peace now," I said, in an attempt to soothe him.
    "Or will be," Faramir murmured, "when they are through with him."
    "My lord!" I exclaimed, appalled. Some soldiers turned in alarm. I lowered my voice. "Why do you torment yourself so? You do not deserve it."
    Faramir tore himself from those thoughts with an effort. "Forgive me, Irolas."
    I shook my head and dared to put my hand on his shoulder. "Say nothing of it, sir. Come. I am sure we will be able to find warmth in the level's guardroom, and maybe a bowl of hot soup."
    I all but dragged my Captain along. We were all downcast and gloomy, but there was a listlessness about him which I had often seen in my soldiers since the Darkness had come upon us – that is, ever since I had begun my service as a lad. It was a dangerous dejection of the heart, which ate away at the will to live. The worst thing that can happen to a fighting man.
    We turned a corner and saw the bright lights of the guardroom beckoning at us, and yes, smell of warm mushroom soup. I felt already heartened a little. We stooped under a stone archway to get in, and the soldier stirring the pot bowed to Faramir who had thrown back his hood. He had no business to be cooking at that hour; he should be resting. Yet I knew it was his habit to take refuge into the guardroom when he was feeling down. He was a simple fellow, more given to catering than killing. I was afraid soon he would not have the luxury to choose.
    He ladled out two bowls of soup and handed them to us with a big smile, then left us alone. I waited for the Captain to take his place on a wooden bench, and then sat down heavily beside him and took off my gloves to eat. My weighty armour bothered me, since I had worn it for hours. I was hungry despite my gloominess, and the soup was excellent. But Faramir ate quickly, in silence, his gaze lost in the play of shadows and torchlight on the floor. When he had cleaned the bowl, he looked ready to go back to whatever pursuit he had been following in that troubled night.
    "You had better find some rest, sir, if I may," I said hurriedly when he got up. "Your rooms have been waiting for you for too long. My wife, as you know, is a chambermaid in the palace, and she has made sure everything was ready for your return."
    Faramir stopped at the threshold. "Indeed," he said, with a sarcastic lift of his eyebrows.
    I sat, dumbstruck, the bowl of soup half-empty in my hands. That behaviour was so unlike the kind, loving young man I knew. "Yes," I replied, uncomprehendingly. "Was there something not to your taste?"
    The Captain pressed his lips together and weighed me silently, with a diffidence that pierced me. His face softened a touch. "No, everything was perfect, Irolas, and you will have to thank the gentle Lady Nimloth for me. But maybe she could tell me why tonight I found my brother's rooms chained and locked."
    I stared at him. "I do not understand, my lord," I whispered.
    Faramir hesitated, watching me as I sat there in my usual armour and cloak, as though he had never seen me. I had no right to expect an explanation from him, always so concerned with higher matters of state. Yet he turned and walked back into the hall, wandering close to the fire. He sighed.
    "I did try to find some rest tonight," he said, "but I knew it was useless. The last time I was here, in the rooms so familiar to me, I still had a brother. So, after walking aimlessly for a while in a place now stranger to me, I sought some ease to my grief in Boromir's quarters. Remember this day, little brother..." Faramir turned towards me with a sad, still face. "These were almost the last words he ever spoke to me, in Osgiliath, before he left for Imladris. It is so difficult to remember, now. So many dark things have clouded my mind. I went to his room, and found the door barred."
    I shook my head. "I cannot imagine the reason of such a thing."
    Faramir nodded slowly, staring again into the flames. "I can. You see, Irolas, since I refused to be shut out of my memories of Boromir, I drew my sword and snapped the chain."
    "And?..." I was captivated by the strangeness of his tale.
    "And I found nothing in there. No trace of my brother's things, no armour, no clothes, none of his books on warfare. The room was empty and cold. There was nothing of him left. I ran out and demanded an audience to my father. I was refused."
    I frowned. "Has he done that? But why?"
    "I can only imagine it," Faramir replied, and the hurt in his voice tore at my heart. "He has hoarded everything, like an old dragon sleeping on his spoils. He thinks he is the only one who has the right to mourn. The only one who was deprived of Boromir. The only one who loved him."
    The Captain snapped into silence, clamping his teeth on his rage. Rarely did he open himself up so freely. He was not a talker like me, who would pester everybody with my troubles, if I had had any worth talking about.
    I put aside my unfinished soup and got up stiffly, mail clinking against steel. "Lord Faramir, your father's mind is greatly troubled, and has been for a long time. This last blow, it has all but unhinged him. I do believe he sought comfort himself, as he could."
    Faramir shut his eyes. "I try to understand. But when I saw he gave my childhood equipment to that strange young man..."
    "The Halfling?" I exclaimed. "Eru's name, I did think it looked familiar! Was it yours?"
    "It was."
    I fell silent. "Well, my lord, I daresay you have outgrown it," I blurted out.
    Faramir looked fixedly at the flames for a moment, then started laughing. To my great relief, he turned to me with a face I finally recognized. He slapped his hand on my metal vambrace. "Ah, Irolas, you jester. I have missed you greatly." His smile grew melancholy, and his next words came as through a dream of madness. "How come you are still here, then? How come I have not lost you?"
    My spirit fell again. I grasped his leather-covered wrist before he pulled his hand away. "My lord... I am sorry, so sorry, about your brother. And your kinsman Madril, that was a sore blow. And your father behaving that way would lay low the strongest spirit... but Mithrandir, too, is still here. Have you sought counsel from him?"
    "No."
    "No?" For a moment I was very close to grabbing the Captain and shaking him. "Why? Come with me, sir. Let us go and find him right now." I tried to push him out of the guardroom. With the state he was in, it seemed the only reasonable thing to do. I could not help him the way his old teacher could. The White Wizard would surely find the right words to give solace to Faramir's heart, broken in so many ways.
    The Captain let me drag him out on the battlements again before he stopped and turned to me, shaking away my hand with a brief laugh. "Irolas, I have met Mithrandir a while ago, with Master Peregrin, outside the guest quarters. I assured them I will rest, and bid them good night."
    "Oh no," I said, shaking my head. "Did the wizard let you get away with it?"
    Faramir smiled wryly at me, and started walking along the ramparts. "He knew my heart, as usual; but he did let me go. That lad is frightened and alone. He needs counsel much more than I do."
    "Are you really sure about this, sir?" I asked quietly.
    There was a bustle on the sixth level. The watches were changing, but under that starless, sickly sky, few of the dismounting shift were headed to their quarters. We passed some soldiers simply sitting down in a corner, ready to wait out the night. There was nothing I could tell them, though many would have dearly wished for their Captain and me to order sleep to come to them. The new watch had settled and a relative calm had fallen on the ramparts before Faramir spoke again.
    "Mithrandir has his own business to mind, Irolas, and it is a grave business indeed. Each of us has his own duty, and this is not the time to question it. Yours is to protect our city. Mine is to leave tomorrow and try to take back Osgiliath. Is there anything Mithrandir can do about it?"
    I was left speechless. Faramir leaned out against the stone battlements and stared at the obscene lights beyond the Anduin, until he was forced to close his eyes against his nightmares and let the cold wind push back his hair from his drawn, tired face.
    "The old man dared to order you to do that?" I exclaimed, horrified.
    "You are talking about the Steward of Gondor, soldier," Faramir said sternly, turning back to me with eyes that burned with ancient fire. "Mind your words."
    I was awed, but I could not be silent anymore. "Forgive me, my lord," I whispered. "Do what you will of me, but here is the truth. There is only one Steward of Gondor now, for me." I knelt again in front of him. I grasped his icy-cold hands, and before he could understand what I was doing I opened them and placed my own bare hands inside them in the ancient gesture of belonging. "If words are yet necessary, I swear fealty to you, Lord Faramir, my liege, and to no-one else, in peace or war, in living or..."
    Faramir broke my oath-taking by grabbing my hands tight, and, instead of pulling me up, fell on his knees in front of me and put a hand on my armoured shoulder.
    "Irolas, we have grown up together," he said gently. "We became soldiers together. You thrashed me in training more times than I can count when Boromir could not be bothered to. I am not Lord Faramir to you, or your liege, or any such foolishness."
    Up to that moment, I was convinced he was comforting me, as it should be. Then, under my stunned eyes, he let me go and bent his head, crumpling on himself.
    "Please, my lord," I stammered. "Do not let the men see you cry."
    "I wish I could cry," came his voice, muffled by the folds of his hood. "I cannot anymore. I cannot stop thinking about the dead, and my father, and..." His breathing broke into dry sobs.
    "Faramir," I beseeched him. What else? Was there no limit to his pain? I could not ask, because he could not talk. "Faramir, have mercy on yourself. Grief can be a balm for the mourning heart, but this grief is poisoning you!" I held out my arms and tried to embrace him. I could not, for fear of hurting him with my metal plates.
    My beloved lord fell away from me with his shoulder against the stone wall, staring up at the empty roof of clouds. "There should have been something. I should have insisted on going in his stead. I should have acted differently at Osgiliath, and in Ithilien. Everything keeps coming back to me. I wish I were not a Captain tonight."
    His eyes were wild. What he was seeing scared me, even though I myself could not see it. I too knew intense pain and fear, yet to me they were like sword cuts, agonizing but clean and contained. Faramir's suffering was like a wide burn on his skin, going deep; like a malignant growth in his insides, like a festering gangrene. Incurable, possibly. If he had been a horse I would have been sure, and I would have put him down to stop his suffering, no matter how much I loved him. I could not even grasp it; it was impossible for me to think about so many things at once, the way he did. I could only see the consequences in him.
    I unfastened my cloak and spread it down on the stones, away from the wind. "Then rest here, like we did so many times when we were younger."
    "I remember," he whispered. He stared at the cloak, then, to my relief, left the support of the cold wall and lay down tiredly.
    "Once the three of us dispatched a score of Orcs," I went on, unbuckling my shoulder guards, and then starting on the breastplate, "and I would have bled to death if not for you knowing how to tie a tourniquet. Boromir had no idea where to put his hands. He did his part by snarling at whatever came near." I did not know anymore whether I was making it up. But it seemed to calm him, so I kept up my chatter as I got rid of my armour and chain mail.
    I had not planned on sleeping that night, but at last I was able to lie down beside Faramir. I put my arms around him, like we soldiers did in the cold nights out on patrol, and drew his own cloak over both of us. That seemed to reach through to him. He laid his dear head on my shoulder and let out a breath, though looking down at him I was still able to see his eyes glinting. Other small groups of soldiers, huddled together, were trying to sleep at some distance away, while the sentries walked slowly above us.
    "All we have to do is stay alive till tomorrow, Faramir," I told him, laying my hand on his bereaved breast, over the White Tree painted on his jerkin. "And then the day after. There is nothing else."
    I felt him nod, and held him closer to save our body warmth. In the utter stillness, I heard his eyelashes brush closed against my leather tunic. He was my one and only lord, yet he was right, there were no Captains there. I hoped the simplicity of a common soldier's life was of comfort to him, at least for one night. As I felt him drifting away I thought I had accomplished my mission.
    "Thank you, my brother," he muttered, half asleep.
    Tears stung my eyes. "Rest now," I whispered. "I will take care of you." And with that promise, I tried to sleep away the hours that separated us from our doom.