Faramir and Oddberry's Misguided Adventure

Anyone who saw them would have sworn that the loyal beasts understood Boromir and tried to answer his question in the only way they could: they showed him.

After greeting him joyfully, but visibly nervous for him to follow, they lead him along the dark alleys and stopped briefly where the ground was dark and burned and one of the attackers’ crude swords still lay discarded. They growled at the scent of Faramir's blood, but it took them no more than a few heartbeats to find him and the strange small person nearby. Their tails started wagging amidst happy little noises that seemed oddly out of place coming from hounds as grim and big as they were and would have been much better suited for tiny puppies.

“Can we stay like this? I don't want to go back”

The man’s words tore at Oddberry’s heart. Part of her knew she should refuse him, get him up, get moving to someplace safer than an abandoned street, but that was smothered by her guilt and the knowledge that doing so would distress him. It was her fault he was in this state anyway.

So they stayed there a little longer until she heard the thud of two pairs of heavy boots in the darkness. Her fingers found the knife at her side and she sat, ready, slowly trying to shift the man’s weight back onto the doorframe without disturbing him. She made sure her bag was also close, the many glass bottles it contained could become nasty missiles if need be.

It was the dogs who first appeared out of the darkness and the relief Oddberry had felt when they had left earlier paled in comparison to what she felt now as they snuffled their master with small, happy yips and whines.

"What happened here?"

Oddberry had watched the strangers approach with trepidation, comforted by how at eas the man’s hounds were, yet all the while unsettled by the prospect of two more Men to worry about. She must consider her words carefully.

“It’s a long story. Do you know him?” She looked down on her patient, glad he was no longer angry and pushing her away. “He is not hurt, not badly. I’m more worried about his reaction.” She maintained her light grip on the hunting knife as she awaited the reply from these men, unwilling to tell the whole truth, just in case.

Oddberry watched the two men interact, and refused to let the first words into her head pop out of her mouth. Perhaps this was the man her patient had mentioned before. And that would mean his words were true. Oh, how she had misjudged him. Once she would have trusted him at his word without a second thought, but she had travelled far and she was not as optimistic as she had been in years gone by.

She let silence fall for a moment and then replied to the questions all in the wrong order. She looked first to the one who had asked her business.

“I came to this city to deliver some items to an old friend.” Then to the other, “As for what happened as I said, it’s a long story, I’d rather not have to tell it here. We've already been attacked once.” She took the leap. “You are Captain Boromir are you not? He mentioned you, earlier. And he is awake, sort of. He can still see and hear, though whether he understands any of that is a mystery.”

What a curious little thing.Boromir nodded. Seemed that she wasn't actually up to anything he'd consider bad, at least. That was a slight relief. "Indeed, Boromir is my name, though it seems you know not all about me, but perhaps that is a good thing."

Interesting one, this halfling. Berilorn watched her. "We are certainly not a threat to you, or to him." He paused. "This is not the place to be sitting around talking. These streets can be dangerous, to those who do not know them."

Boromir was just about as talkative as her patient. Maybe a little more, but not by much. His friend seemed to be marginally more prone to talking. Her safety secured she allowed herself to relax, just a little. She was tired of being suspicious. She was just tired.

“I had noticed the danger part. I’m also completely lost and even if I was four feet of muscle I couldn’t manage to drag him anywhere. Hence why I am sitting in a doorway and have never been so glad to see dogs the size of ponies.” She gestured at him, “If you could help him up I would be eternally grateful.”

She dodged around the question of his name. She had a funny feeling not knowing it would raise a few suspicions in the eyes of her latest companions and she didn’t fancy a fight with them.

Boromir nodded. "Berilorn?"
Berilorn rolled his eyes. "Not the first time I've had to help either of you get home.." He moved to help Faramir to his feet. "Do not worry, small one. Neither of ipus will harm you or allow anyone else to do so." He paused. "Our Captain General is stern and not very talkative but he cares for his men."
"Better I find him than one of those loyal to my father, the Steward," Boromir replied, rolling his eyes.

Faramir’s peace was disturbed and he did not like it.

The voices he recognized. That is, he recognized that he recognized the voices. Who they belonged to and what that meant to him he did not remember in that moment.

The snouts that nudged him and the little whiny voices he recognized, too. Those were his siblings, of course and he pushed them away gently and growled, when they did not obey, but fell to his side to play with them and nudge them with his paws and head eventually.

Being so occupied with something that much more important he did not listen to the other voices. Just once or twice he tried to animate Oddberry to join them, but when she did not he merely huffed and turned his attention towards those who were overjoyed because of it.

After a while, however, he managed to get up, standing on shaky legs that he could not quite control and that seemed too long for him in that moment. He resembled a foal taking its first confused steps. The world still moved whenever he moved. It did not make things easier, even after he managed to support himself against the doorway.

Oddberry was quite wrong as far as seeing went. Faramir did not see even though his eyes were wide open. His gaze appeared to be as sharp as ever but it went nowhere, remained utterly unfocussed. It no longer scared him, quite the contrary. He was glad that at least he could not see, too many saw too much already he had decided.

“You are relieved that he does not know”, he suddenly said when Boromir mentioned his father. “But he does. He sees everything.”

Suddenly he stopped talking, turning around to face Berilorn with surprising accuracy.

“You don’t touch me, you stupid mongrel!”, he growled. “You are no better!”

Yet, after a few shuddering breaths he added, with the same impetus:

“The pie is a travesty!”

Even as the stranger who was not Boromir thought about helping him up, Oddberry’s patient rose from where she had left him playing with his dogs and she watched him carefully as he took a few shaky steps before seeking the help of the doorframe. She couldn’t help but smile with relief at the sight. He was getting better, slowly, although she suspected he would still be suffering a while longer.

His early outbursts of speech held little meaning to her, and for now she would dismiss them as the ramblings of someone having a bit of a mental adventure. She would remember them later on and wonder if they were more than that. But there in that dark street she left them be. Pip had similar babblings on his first mushroom-fueled adventure and none of them really remembered what was said when they decided to repeat the endeavour in a far more controlled manner once they ascertained it wasn’t deadly, but they knew it had been nonsense.

“The pie is a travesty!” His next outburst caught her attention.


Oddberry’s laughter rang out again, stronger than earlier. This time it was a true laugh, not a soft giggle.

“It was a very bad pie.” She smiled at the man, who still stood tall, despite the assistance of the doorframe. She could now admit to herself how worried she had been about this stranger, who a short time ago she had thought of as nothing but a villain. She could only hope that he might forgive her for stabbing him at some point.

“If he does not think straight, how does he think?”, Faramir doubted and attempted to push Berilorn away, almost losing his balance again in the process.

“Valar preserve us!”, he stated when the soldier pointed out that he was not the steward of Gondor. “The kingdom would die of boredom! Or would you train cats to take over following him around? Then I could chase them down ... one by one...” He chuckled, obviously enjoying the idea of hunting cats as much as one of his beasts would.

But in the next moment he closed his unseeing eyes, held his head and groaned miserably.

“The dragon took my leg”, he whispered. “How do I walk?”

Did he even want to walk? He was not quite certain. Perhaps just sitting back down again would be wise? Maybe lying down? Sleeping a little? Everything seemed so unstable and his thoughts began to crowd into something he could barely untangle enough to understand it himself.

Faramir. Finally she had a name. Not that she dwelled on it, for the men niggled at each other with their comments, and Oddberry’s concern for Faramir grew as she watched him spiral from confusion to joy to despair in the space of a breath and she took a step closer. He did not need this bickering, or conversation for him to twist.

“The dragon took my leg. How do I walk?” The still night carried Faramir’s whisper further than it otherwise would have and Odbberry’s ears had no trouble picking it up. She squared herself in front of his gaze, whether he knew it or not, and on an impulse grabbed his hand, guiding it to his injured leg.

“Your leg is still there, and you walk by putting one foot in front of the other. You’ll remember once you get going.” She spoke softly and calmly, but with a smile in her voice. Anything loud or irritable or angry would just make things worse. Then she turned to Boromir and his companion.

“As much fun as this conversation is, it may be prudent that we go somewhere other than here?” While she maintained her even tone, her eyes were steely and face betrayed no hint of a smile. She hoped they would take the hint, before anything more could be said that caused her patient distress. He was, of course, her patient now. She was taking charge of him, and would take it to heart if anything bad should befall him.

"Well then," Berilorn said somewhat gruffly. "Let's get moving." He wasn't sure what to make of Faramir right now, not to mention a little insulted. Mongrel was quite the insult for him. "Come on Faramir." He helped him along for the moment.

"Relax Berilorn!" Boromir said as they started walking. He knew of a safer place for this conversation.

Faramir was quite surprised when his hand suddenly moved towards his leg that he had been certain was no longer there. Only after he had felt it, warm and solid underneath his fingertips, he began to realize, too, that his hand had not moved by itself. Someone had taken it and moved it. The same someone who now talked to him.

He cocked his head and listend carefully. One foot in front of the other did not sound difficult. Yet ... yet it was. Still, because of that voice, because of how calm and gentle it sounded, it was no longer scarry. Tentatively he took one step forward, then another. It worked. It really did. He smiled happily.

"Where are we going?", he asked the voice that had come from somewhere next to him, smaller than him. Had he turned into a giant? A dragon himself, maybe? He chuckled at the idea. How silly. Dragons did not walk, they knew how to fly! Maybe he was no dragon then. Better that way. He really didn't want to be a dragon.

After taking a few more steps he stopped. Again that voice, again those different hands.

"Why can't you let me be? No one needs you!", he decided.

Then, suddenly, another voice. No, it had been there before. It had spoken before. But only now did it make sense. Slighly. Somewhat. Not truly, but a little.

He tried to bow, because something told him that he had to, but failed, stumbled and almost fell, but somehow caught himself in time. Truly like a foal, a young dog or a deer caught on a frozen lake. Somehow, surprisingly, he managed to walk and dispite coming dangerously close to it several times, never once truly fell. His dogs watched him carefully, but did not get in his way.

"I am not Berilorn", he heard himself say when that voice told him to relax. "Berilorn is not me."

Walking had turned into an exhausting task. All of his natural elegance was lost, he had to focus body and mind on every small step.

"Where are we going?", he asked again. "How long will it take? I don't think I want to go... Is it very far?"

"That comment goes for you too, Faramir!" Boromir said. "No, not far." He frowned. "Much as I want to get you to one of our healers... since you are not yourself."
That worried him. Considerably!

Faramir hesitated.

"If I am not myself... who am I?", he asked. In part he seemed to be amused, in part deeply worried. "Who is Faramir?"

Too many questions that made his head hurt and his mind grow fuzzy. He had stopped and swayed a little on his unstable legs. Immediately two of his dogs pressed themselves against either side of him, steadying him and allowing him to burry his fingers in their thick fur for comfort and support.

"Not far", he repeated, already slightly out of breath, suddenly terribly dizzy. "I don't think... I... Not far... I don't... I really don't feel good..."

Finally they were beginning to move and Oddberry had darted to her packs and shouldered them before the three Big Folk could get too far. The street was not wide enough for all them abreast, so she lagged a little behind, listening to the soft talk ahead, grumbling to herself as the second man, Berilorn she now knew he was called, managed not to take the hint that drugged Faramir did not like him. And then the other one managed to put his foot in it, again.

Men! Oddberry let a small, exasperated huff out of her nostrils and darted forwards, pushing herself in front of Faramir and turning so she was walking backwards whilst facing him. That was not hard to manage at their slow speed.

"If I am not myself... who am I? Who is Faramir?"

“You are Faramir. Faramir really loves his dogs.” Oddberry mustered her soft voice and hoped those words were enough to remind him of who he was again. She did not know him enough to say anything more.

She shot Boromir a filthy look and a mental message to shut up, she could see he was worried, but he was saying all the wrong things. And then Faramir stopped and she was glad to see it was his dogs who stepped in as support this time, before Berilorn could upset him again.

"Not far, I don't think... I... Not far... I don't... I really don't feel good..."

“You just need some water that’s all. No healers, just water and then you’ll feel right as rain in the morning.” He wouldn't. He would have a horrific headache most likely, but he didn’t need to know that. “There’s water where we’re going, so just think about putting one foot in front of the other until we get there.” Oddberry had slipped alongside Faramir and his dogs now, giving his forearm a gentle push. She hoped this place truly wasn’t far.

“Faramir really loves his dogs”, he repeated, thinking. The dogs pressed close against his legs and how happy they had been to be ruined with him, how happy he had been. Family. They were his family. He liked his dogs. They were his, he was theirs. He loved his dogs. Faramir loved his dogs. It made sense. If he loved his dogs and Faramir loved his dogs and his dogs were with him now he had to be Faramir. He smiled and ruffled the dogs’ fur joyfully. Finally something that made sense!

Taking steps did not get easier because of it and dizziness turned to nausea, made him walk slower and stumble more often the farther they got. Tiny flashes of light mixed in with the darkness in front of his eyes, causing him to shudder each time. Soon he shivered, too, when the night air cooled the sweat on his skin.

The dark alleys gave way to flickering lights, colorful lanterns made from thin fabric and iron so delicate it resembled finest lace and brocade. They had been strung up along the balconies and between the pillars of much older houses than those in the lower circles, built out of and into the precious white stone of the mountain itself. Still, this was not a place where the most wealthy and, especially, reputable citizens of Minas Tirith would ever set foot. At least, as far as they would admit.

They stopped in front of one such house. Fragrant and surprisingly fresh flower petals covered the ground, but no flowering bush or tree could be seen anywhere near. Besides, they obviously were of different kinds. A row of broad doors along the whole front had been opened towards the street, allowing the curious onlooker, drawn closer by movement and soft light, the sound of water, talk and quiet music, just a glance at the enclosed garden in the center of the house that lay behind those doors and a beautiful colonnade that surrounded it.

While whatever happened on the inside remained a tantalizing mystery, apparently those standing outside had been noticed almost immediately. Voices could be heard and it did not take long for two men, obviously built like soldiers and openly armed, but clad in simple leather armor without any insignia, to approach them. They were followed by a young woman who appeared even smaller compared to them. What she lacked in height and bulkiness, however, she matched in attitude. She held her head high and her shoulders and back straight. She moved with surprising elegance, too, considering the speed at which she walked as soon as she noticed Faramir and the state he was in. Her hips swayed ever so slightly with each hurried step, never too much, but also never too little to emphasize their form. If she had ever been trained to do it that way, by now it came to her naturally. The tiny sound of beautiful ankle bracelets accompanied her, as well as the whisper of expensive silks and strands of long, dark hair that framed her noble face. High cheekbones, slightly slanted, deep, dark eyes, lips unpainted for now, but a memory of color still lingering on them. She seemed barely older than Boromir when she bowed briefly in front of him, then said:

“Your highness, with all due respect... What have you done to my son?!”

"I went looking for him when he did not return from some errand I knew very little about." Boromir blinked at the words. At least he kept himself polite, naturally. "I found him lying in one of the streets nearby. There was signs of a scuffle of sorts nearby. The halfling with us, was with him."

"Lying in one of the streets", the woman breathed, unable or unwilling to mask how much these words hurt her. Words she had, perhaps, expected to hear at some point for the longest time, only to be positively surprised over and over again when they did not come, until she felt certain that no one would ever speak them to her, that she had done this one thing right and kept the child that she had taken on as hers from walking the wrong path to the worst end, too certain, perhaps.

Gently she took Faramir’s face in her small hands and smiled sadly when he did not seem to recognize her, but still did not shrink from her touch.

“Look at his eyes!”, she told the men who had accompanied her.

She could think of nothing that would cause a reaction quite like this. Unless, maybe, in extremely high doses. If this were the case, however, her son would no longer be standing, probably not even breathing any longer.

“Can you see anything? Anything at all?”, she asked Faramir and it took some time and a gentle slap on the cheek to get his attention until he replied in the most awed whisper:

“Pretty colors.”

She frowned, uncertain if he could make out the colored lamps or merely hallucinated.

“What colors are they?”, she thought to ask.

“Flute”, he replied. “Upside down.”

Well, not exactly a color, but an answer, at least. He breathed. He reacted, albeit slowly. He was still standing, even more impressive. Yet, he didn’t seem to have any clear understanding of what was happening to him or where he was. She knew him well enough to tell from just these few words and general observation that he was too far gone to provide any useful information. She sighed. There was nothing they could do on the street and she saw him shiver.

“Please come inside”, she told Boromir and his two companions. “Follow me. Don’t bother the customers.” To her men she said: “Help him along, will you?”

Surprisingly, Faramir did not protest. Perhaps because his dogs seemed to have understood the idea and herded him in the right direction.

The woman lead them past guests who launched on carpets and pillows in and around the garden, certainly also somewhat inebriated at the very least, but in a much more peaceful state than Faramir. Much farther at the back of the house she opened the door to a spacious, but obviously very personal room. It was clean, furnished with care and decorated with fresh flowers, but it contained too many personal items to be meant for receiving guests of any kind. Her next words only confirmed that first impression.

“Thank you. Help him on my bed and leave us”, she told her men while the dogs respectfully curled up on the floor next to it and made no attempt to jump on top. “I’ll call you if we need anything else.”

Once the door had closed she showed Boromir, Berilorn and the small person where they could sit and readied wine, as well as a bowl of caramelized fruit for them.

“Thank you for bringing him here”, she said quietly. She did not want to imagine what would have happened to him in this state if they had not.

Before she handed a cup to Oddberry she hesitated briefly, her dark eyes taking in what she saw in a manner that did not seem too dissimilar from how Faramir had watched her eat. Yet, contrary to Faramir his mother found what she was looking for quickly, then handed the cup to the creature that to many others would have appeared a mere child.

“Yes, you look, like you know something”, she said, after she herself had sat down on the bed, next to her son who could easily have been her younger brother. “I am certain that Captain Boromir is also dying to hear more about what has happened to one of his soldiers ... during an errand that had to do with you? Maybe with that meddlesome wizard also? I hear he arrived in the city yesterday...”

Boromir and Berilorn followed him in as well. They knew better than to decline, that would be wrong. Especially to a lady.
"Had to get him somewhere safer." Boromir nodded. "Yes, in one of the streets. At least this place was not far from there, I doubt he could have walked much further."
Berilorn looked at Oddberry. "How did you come across Faramir? Halflings are not a common sight here in this city."

She knew. Oddberry didn't know how but this woman knew, to some degree that Oddberry was to blame. This woman who could make time stand still. It was not just her beauty, but her everything. From her clothes to her hair, the way she moved, the soft bells at her ankles. She was, quite simply, enchanting. In some ways she was so far removed from anyone Oddberry had ever met that she was mesmerised by her. There was no way on this earth this woman was Faramir's biological mother she had mused when she first saw her.

And now Oddberry sat with that sharp knowing gaze upon her and couldn't help but admire this woman again. Stop avoiding the inevitable she berated herself.

Wishing she could have her axe in her hands Oddberry stood and made her way to the corner farthest away from the two Men.

It did not surprise her that a meddlesome wizard was mentioned, it was as simple as slotting the last piece of a puzzle into place. Oddberry fiddled with her sleeves nervously.

"It's a long story… I was asked to retrieve certain, things, for Gandalf the Grey and meet him here in the city. Though by the time I got here the note was damaged and I do not remember the location. I settled in a tavern for the eve and Faramir turned up. He surrounded me with his hounds and not so politely demand I left in his company with very little in the way of explanation." Oddberry paused and looked directly at Faramir's mother. "I'm sure you understand that that was not the most trustworthy of methods to convince a girl you aren't going to rob them and leave their body in an alleyway."

She looked at the floor and took a deep breath. She was not proud of what she had done, even though it was perfectly logical at the time. She raised her eyes and kept them warily trained on the Men, though she did wonder if Faramir’s mother was the greater threat. Might as well get it over with.

"I stabbed him. To get away. For many reasons I realised it was a mistake after but that is hardly relevant." She slipped the small knife out of her sleeve, holding it carefully by the short hilt. "It was with the sister of this. I would not advise touching the blade. It's coated with fire ant venom." Her words grew faster and her chest tight.

"This," She gestured at Faramir with her free hand, "is not meant to happen. Half an hour of burning pain, not this. I have only ever seen this once before, and not with this particular substance. A friend ate several of the wrong mushroom and had a similar reaction. In lower doses it can be… interesting, pleasurable even, if you are prepared. But Faramir is probably not having a great deal of fun." She took another breath.

"All we could do is give Pip water and wait for it to pass." Now to hope no one tried to kill her.  "I feel terrible." She added in a quiet voice.

“I thank you for your concern and your understanding”, the woman said politely to Boromir. “Any other captain would have assumed the worst of their soldier, instead of taking him home safely without declaring him guilty of his own ill fate.” She smiled sadly und caressed Faramir’s cold forehead. “I can assure you, he would never have failed you like this on purpose... He would never even have taken a sip of wine when he knew that you were expecting him...”

She shook her head. “I blame that wizard. He always asks my son for favors. Even now! He knows that he is a soldier now, a real soldier, officially, honorably! He could have asked you for one of your men, for him even. Maybe sent him and someone more qualified in... dealing with people. Instead he sends him off without anyone knowing about it and without protection.” Her voice had changed ever so slightly, just the smallest growl could be heard as an undertone. Even the dogs reacted to it, lifting their heads questioningly.

“There are places here that are dangerous! Especially for someone like him!” She looked at Oddberry. “Or you.”

She had meant to say something else, when Faramir stirred, sat up and doubled over. Without thinking twice she reached for a vase, took out the flowers, placed them in Boromir's arms and held the expensive piece of porcelain underneath her son’s face. She did so just in time. Carefully she gathered and held his hair out of the way and rubbed soothing circles on his back while he began throwing up violently. Only water and bile, he didn’t seem to have eaten anything. No, something more, some strange, black liquid, just a little, almost like old blood, but not quite.

“Are you certain that he has not ingested anything?” For all intents and purposes it appeared as if his body was ejecting the poison. But who had ever heard of someone spitting out snake venom after having been bitten? This was not how human bodies worked.

Once the worst seemed over Faramir's mother took the knife from Oddberry and inspected it carefully, smelling the venom and, yes, touching it, ever so slightly and without fear.

“It is fire ant venom”, she confirmed. “But I do not know... perhaps you have mistaken it on the one you used? This is truly not what should happen if...”

She handed the knife back and drew Faramir into her arms, holding him so he could sit up slightly and would not grow dizzy again lying down. He accepted it without resisting and visibly exhausted.

“You did not run away”, she said to Oddberry after a moment. “After you stabbed him. How much time has passed since then?”

She got distracted by Faramir before she could ask more questions or truly wonder about the small creature she was currently talking to and cradled the young man a little closer, then reached for a blanket and wrapped it around him.

“So cold”, she whispered. “First too hot, then too cold... we might have to call a healer... Maybe the wound got infected..."