The person is someone else.
Chapter 14: Aftermath
this page added by Cyndra
Tirion backed up, trying to distance himself from the ranger. Damrod reached for his sword, his eyes blazing with pure hatred. When Damrod charged, Tirion turned to run but forgot he was braced against the iron railing. His momentum carried him over the railing where he fell from atop the tower.
Imrahil grabbed the ranger, stopping Damrod from confirming what they both knew had happened. “Go no further. Those below are looking up, trying to understand how Tirion fell. If seen, you become suspect in his death. Follow me. We are each other’s alibi.”
Rivendell
Elrond finished applying the last of the herbal mixture to his son’s forehead. “Hundreds of years, you and Elrohir have hunted orcs, yet what have you gained? Nothing. Slaughtering tens of thousands of orcs will not return your mother.”
“Thousands of years, would not be enough.” Elladan angrily left the room leaving Elrond frustrated. He thought the twins thirst for vengeance had been quenched until word reached Rivendell of the Witch-king’s plan to bond with a human.
In Gandalf’s haste to prevent the bonding ritual, he accepted the twins’ plan to create a diversion while he and Glorfindel rescued Faramir. Elrond’s fears were confirmed when both returned covered in orc blood, proudly announcing Minas Morgul had suffered considerable losses.
Elrond vowed he would have a long talk with his sons once the present crisis ended. However calling the present crisis chaotic would be an understatement.
Never had he faced such pressure from so many. Gandalf remained steadfast, blaming himself for Faramir’s condition, and Glorfindel lurked nearby, proclaiming the examination only delayed the indubitable.
Elrond was thankful Faramir remained unconscious, oblivious to the growing tension while the Elf-lord completed the examination and declared the bonding incomplete. Relief flooded Gandalf’s face; however Glorfindel believed otherwise, stating the only safe resolution was the ranger’s instant death.
Gandalf angrily rejected Glorfindel’s counsel, swearing if anyone threatened the young human they would challenge him first.
Not intimidated, Glorfindel stood ready, and he and Gandalf squared off, ready to fight over Faramir’s fate.
Before Elrond could react, Lindir and Erestor intercepted the elf-warrior, both insulted that Elrond’s word had been questioned.
Glorfindel reluctantly apologized, glared down at the human and left. His surprising hostility shocked most, but Elladan’s behavior surprised Elrond. His son turned Faramir’s protector, especially when Glorfindel threatened the ranger.
And Faramir. Elrond’s heart ached every time he thought of the young man sleeping down the hall. Though the physical wounds were healing, it was the psychological ones that worried Elrond most.
The moment Faramir woke, he screamed, recoiling in fear if anyone came near him. Frantic, and unsure of his whereabouts, he begged for death before the Witch-king returned.
It took several long agonizing moments before Gandalf convinced Faramir he had been rescued and no longer in Minas Morgul. The ranger then collapsed into Gandalf’s waiting arms, weeping uncontrollably as Elrond and Elladan watched indiscernibly.
Gandalf held the ranger, rocking him until the emotional dirge eased into soft sobs. When Faramir’s fingers loosened from Gandalf’s arm, signaling fatigue, Elrond gave a sleeping draught to the wizard who coaxed Faramir into drink it.
Moments later, Faramir drifted into a troubled sleep but Gandalf refused to leave. When Faramir woke, Gandalf fed him broths while attempting to ease the chaotic mind with tales of Rivendell and Mirkwood.
Day after day, the routine was repeated and not once did Faramir speak a word. Nevertheless, despite Gandalf’s good intentions, he was powerless against the screaming nightmares that haunted the ranger’s sleep.
Elrond considered using a stronger sleeping draught to stimulant Faramir’s sleep cycle, but before the draught could be prepared a human scream pierced the night sky, signaling another violent nightmare.
Elrond and Elladan rushed into Faramir’s room to find Gandalf trying unsuccessfully to wake the unresponsive ranger. When Faramir failed to response to the Elf-lord’s mental probe, Elrond and Gandalf reluctantly cast their awareness into Faramir’s mind.
Wizard and Elf-lord were swept into a powerful emotional vacuum, trapping them within Faramir memories at Minas Morgul. They became unwilling spectators, unseen by those involved, yet powerless to intervene themselves. Everything Faramir endured, they witnessed.
After what felt like an eternity, the nightmare faded, enabling Elrond to break the link. The effort cost him, leaving him physically drained. His legs wobbled, suddenly unable to support his weight. He staggered, and would have collapsed if his son hadn’t caught him.
“Ada?” Elladan’s concern voice reached Elrond’s hazy mind. His son led him to a nearby chair where he eased into it.
“Faramir?” Elrond asked, glancing up at his son for an answer.
“He’s asleep, ada. I poured the draught down his throat while you and Gandalf…” At the mention of the wizard’s name, Elladan paused, suddenly concerned. He turned and found Gandalf cradling Faramir in his arms. Tears streamed down Gandalf’s face unrestrained, holding the young man as if he had died. In the years Elladan had known Gandalf, never had he seen the wizard shed tears.
“Ada, what happened?”
“Men, how they disappoint me.” Elrond closed his eyes, enraged how one human could betray another in such a mortifying matter. He glanced at the two on the bed and caught Gandalf staring at him.
“He speaks only through his nightmares,” Gandalf whispered, pulling Faramir closer. “Elrond, Lindir’s kin rides with Prince Imrahil to the White City. Send a message. Imrahil is a sensible man. He will know how to handle this matter discreetly.”
As the days past, Faramir slowly began to trust Elrond and Elladan, feeling comfortable around the healer and his son, but as gentle and compassionate as Elrond was, Faramir could not tolerate Elrond touching him intimately. The memories were too fresh, the shame too great, and the humiliation too much to bear. Elrond gave him a sedative, introducing sleep until the healer finished his examination.
“Any questions?” Elrond asked, his face always the first thing Faramir saw when he woke. The familiar eyebrow raised, anticipating a question from his troublesome burden but Faramir never obliged. As per the routine, Elrond squeezed his shoulder and left the room.
“Lord Elrond? I…I,” Faramir lowered his eyes wishing he had never spoken. He was uncomfortable discussing something so personal, especially with a stranger. Yet, he was too scared to keep it a secret any longer.
Noticing the hesitation in Faramir’s eyes, Elrond took the young man’s hand urging Faramir to continue. He had known what bothered Faramir, but wanted the ranger to confide in him about the sensitive topic. “We are alone,” he urged his patient. “You wish to discuss the ring, do you not? Why it does things to your body that you cannot control?”
Faramir closed his eyes and nodded. “It will not come off. I have tried,” he cleared his throat too embarrassed to admit how the ring controlled his dreams. The dreams, disturbing and frightening created doubts about the rape. His father once told him dreams were actually the dreamer’s secret desire. He shuttered at that thought. “The ring. I have had….dreams. Strange dreams.”
“How strange? Tell me everything, Faramir. Nothing will shock me.”
Faramir turned away, unable to look at the noble elf-lord. He blinked back tears, humiliated how the ring made him feel whorish when he was most vulnerable, while he slept.
In the dream, the Witch-king carried him naked to a velvet bed. Another figure lurked in the darkness watching. He never fought the nazgul. Instead, he spread his legs willingly. A voice demanded Gondor’s secrets, and Faramir gave them, supplying answers to everything the voice commanded. He betrayed Gondor, his family, and his honor. For his betrayal, the Witch-king made love to him while the figure beyond the dreamscape laughed.
The dream would end abruptly with Faramir waking to find his knees raised, his legs spread wide, simulating the sexual act in his dream. The ring glowed in the darkness, using the dream to force an unwanted orgasm from his body before the ring’s power faded.
“Lord Elrond, I beg you, remove the ring. I …”
“Young one, I cannot. I have tried. As has Gandalf. Always the ring tightens, endangering you until the attempted is halted. Tell me, has the dream become more intimate? The orgasms…”
Faramir’s face turned red with embarrassment. “You know?”
“Yes, I heard you call the Witch-king’s name before you…” the healer raised a surprised brow. “Why do you blush? You have done nothing to cause this.”
Tears pooled from the ranger’s eyes. “I never fight him. I give myself to him.”
“It is only a dream, young one. Nothing more.” Elrond squeezed Faramir’s shoulder compassionately. “I shall deepen the sleeping draughts. Perhaps it will tamper the ring’s control. I shall consult the ancient writings and discuss my findings with you.” He re-squeezed the shoulder and left the room.
Elrond walked down the long corridor, entering the large porch where Gandalf stood in silence.
“He spoke?”
“With deep reluctance and embarrassment.” Elrond watched the mountain stream flowing over the stone bridge. “Gandalf, we face an urgent dilemma. The ring is beckoning the Witch-king. It must be removed. Yet the ring will attempt to cause Faramir permanent damage if we try.”
“I fear Glorfindel learning of the ring and the hold it has over Faramir.” The wizard turned and glanced down the corridor. He swore he had heard someone. Finding it empty, he shrugged and turned back around to study the skyline. “I have no answer. However, one may have that knowledge. I shall seek his counsel.”
What happens next?