Faramir smiles at her suddenly, touched by her concern, and takes her hand and kisses it. It is more a courtly gesture than one of greater meaning, though his mouth lingers on her knuckles perhaps a hair longer than it should. "I shall, my lady, if you will do the same. If I am kept past luncheon, please give my apologies to Merry."
He walks with her back to their horses, and sees her off with their escort, watches her ride through the gate to the Citadel. Only then does he turn back, his expression extremely serious as he walks briskly towards his study, where he has already arranged to meet with the servant he spoke with briefly.
Their interview lasts for some time.
Faramir does not return to the Houses of Healing for the midday meal. Neither is he seen in the afternoon nor even at dinnertime, or later in the evening. The Warden of the Houses, not at all pleased at his patient's disappearance, sends for him, but to no avail. Merry, much concerned, keeps Eowyn company as much as she will permit. But eventually the hour is late enough that most of the residents of the House go to their beds, Merry included, and still Faramir has not returned.
That night is a dreadful nightfall, where the dark power from the East looms over all things and its brooding malice is almost tangible even in Minas Tirith. None go to their beds easy, and even those who are most hardy feel their hope falter. Even Merry looks in the direction of the Black Gate and wonders if he will see his friends and kinsman again.
At some late hour, midnight or after, Faramir returns and can be found sitting in the main dining area. The laces of his collar and sleeves are all undone, and his hair looks more unkempt, as though he has run his hands through it several times. His face is drawn, and for the first time in several days he looks like the invalid he still is, recovering from the after-effects of fell poison. There is a plate of bread and cheese and cold meat nearby, mostly eaten, and a bottle of wine, mostly empty.
But for now he ignores these, and sits still as stone, staring into a candleflame with an almost grim focus, as though he would like to question it. As though some mystery might be answered there. There is no telling how long he has sat there, or if he ever intends to move again.
no subject
He walks with her back to their horses, and sees her off with their escort, watches her ride through the gate to the Citadel. Only then does he turn back, his expression extremely serious as he walks briskly towards his study, where he has already arranged to meet with the servant he spoke with briefly.
Their interview lasts for some time.
Faramir does not return to the Houses of Healing for the midday meal. Neither is he seen in the afternoon nor even at dinnertime, or later in the evening. The Warden of the Houses, not at all pleased at his patient's disappearance, sends for him, but to no avail. Merry, much concerned, keeps Eowyn company as much as she will permit. But eventually the hour is late enough that most of the residents of the House go to their beds, Merry included, and still Faramir has not returned.
That night is a dreadful nightfall, where the dark power from the East looms over all things and its brooding malice is almost tangible even in Minas Tirith. None go to their beds easy, and even those who are most hardy feel their hope falter. Even Merry looks in the direction of the Black Gate and wonders if he will see his friends and kinsman again.
At some late hour, midnight or after, Faramir returns and can be found sitting in the main dining area. The laces of his collar and sleeves are all undone, and his hair looks more unkempt, as though he has run his hands through it several times. His face is drawn, and for the first time in several days he looks like the invalid he still is, recovering from the after-effects of fell poison. There is a plate of bread and cheese and cold meat nearby, mostly eaten, and a bottle of wine, mostly empty.
But for now he ignores these, and sits still as stone, staring into a candleflame with an almost grim focus, as though he would like to question it. As though some mystery might be answered there. There is no telling how long he has sat there, or if he ever intends to move again.