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Faramir of the House of Hurin, Prince of Ithilien, and Steward to the King, manfully stifled a groan as Lord Elrond of Imladris woke him up for what felt like the hundredth time since he had been put to bed by his friends late the previous evening.
"If you would just let me sleep, I think I might recover more quickly." Faramir pointed out quietly, wincing as even that soft statement caused his throbbing head to ache even more intensely. Faramir didn't want to sound ungrateful for his King's father's kind care, but he was very uncomfortable and in a fair amount of pain.
"You would think so, Faramir," the peredhel healer commented just as quietly, as he gently probed the lump on the Steward's head. "But I've known warriors with head wounds just as mild to fall asleep and never awake. I would never forgive myself if that were to happen to you. Besides, then who would keep Estel from defenestrating Lord Sendar when the man brings up de-regulating the price of basic food stuffs for a fifth time before the winter moratorium the council voted through runs out, hmm?"
"Arwen," Faramir answered promptly, though he suspected Elrond had intended the question to be rhetorical, "Or maybe...oww."
"Sorry," Elrond apologized. "I had to make sure your pupils are still even. I'll shut the drapes again directly. Its morning, as you can see. I've brought you some dry toast and mild broth, and some tea."
"If I ask nicely, will you take them away again?" Faramir bargained. He was not sure whether his stomach could bear even such a non-threatening repast as that.
"Try to eat a bit," Elrond encouraged, fighting a smile at his young friend's understated wit. Leave it to Faramir to jest even while concussed. "If it doesn't take, we'll try again later."
Faramir did eat. He was pleased to realize he felt a bit better afterwards.
"I'm sure I'm late for something," he commented as he finished the food. He still did not quite feel prepared to test whether he could get to his feet and walk.
"We handled that last night. Your Master Arciryas is very efficient," Elrond assured him.
Faramir groaned, then winced and sighed instead, "You woke my chief-of-staff at midnight? Elrond, he has a six month old baby who barely sleeps! Isn't it enough that you and your family were awoken?"
"He did not mind, Faramir," the elven Lord soothed. "We were all concerned that you had been injured. Gimli's cousin feels absolutely terrible about how hard he shoved you out of the way."
"I think I told him that when the alternative is letting me be gutted by a stone mason with a dirty knife, he may shove me as hard as he pleases. I'll just try to avoid hitting a stone table with my head in the future - that is what I hit, right?" Faramir queried, trying to pull together his last coherent memories of the evening.
"It was," Elrond confirmed. "According to Melpomaen, at least. The guards didn't arrive for another ten minutes, or so. Estel wants to talk to you about that, by the way."
Faramir winced, "Melpomaen was not injured, was he? I seem to remember him dousing and lecturing the dwarves and stone masons, but that might have been a dream..."
"No, that is correct," Elrond commented, his blue-gray eyes alight with amusement. "Melpomaen got you out of the way of danger, then he correctly recalled that beings who have been drinking, and hope to drink again, can often be brought back to sobriety by the sad prospect of wasted drink. He only had to break one barrel of ale over the interior balcony of the establishment before the dwarves and stone masons decided to end their conflict for the evening. They are currently enjoying the accommodations of the guard station on the fourth level of the city. Aragorn plans to release them later today, except for the fellow with the knife."
Elrond paused to consider whether he should perhaps have Erestor elicit from Melpomaen how the normally quiet younger elf had learned that tactic. However, Elrond was not sure he wanted to know how it was that his twin sons had inspired Melpomaen to learn the best way to break up drunken brawls. It might be best not to ask; Erestor was already upset enough that Melpomaen had been in the middle of such an upset the previous evening, and that his companion Faramir had been injured.
Faramir waved a hand instead of nodding, as his head still felt like it might fall off, "I should go apologize to Melpomaen. I'd intended for us to end the evening listening to Nessanie and her friends play lute and harp, not trying to break up a riot."
Faramir felt terrible that his apparently poor decision to try to break up the fracas himself without waiting for assistance from the Guard had resulted in him endangering a guest of his King. Even if Melpomaen had handled the situation with aplomb.
"You're not going anywhere, Faramir," Elrond instructed firmly. "You heal even more quickly than is normal for Numenoreans when you let yourself rest, so you should be able to handle a limited schedule tomorrow. But you're staying in bed today."
Arguing with Lord Elrond would avail him nothing, so Faramir laid back down against his pillows, accepting Elrond's help in arranging them more comfortably even as he marshaled his arguments. "There's the delegation from the Easterlings today," Faramir murmured, "and I need to have the Guard offices report on their implementation of the new procedures..."
"Tomorrow, child," Elrond soothed. "Anything that must be done today can be done by others. You can ask Estel for his opinion, and Elladan will almost certainly give you his as well, but I doubt sincerely that there is anything you need do that would justify disturbing your rest today. Sleep for awhile, and Estel will be by to see you after breakfast. You can ask him then."
To his surprise, Faramir did feel as if he could sleep again. He also felt much more comfortable than he had been when he first awoke, which he suspected had something to do with the tea. Faramir fell back asleep, planning how he might salvage the day.
The reports from the Guard offices could probably be put off for some time without any harm done, but leaving his King to attend the meeting with the Easterlings without assistance was not an option Faramir liked. Unfortunately, if Aragorn agreed with his foster father that Faramir must stay in bed today, the Steward might have no choice. This was one of those times when the realities of Faramir's new life required some adjustment of his previous strategies. Faramir was still working out what his King expected of him, especially as it was very different from what Denethor had expected of his second son. Not to mention that Aragorn was much more apt to figure out what Faramir was actually planning to do than anyone else had ever been, including Boromir.
Were it one of Faramir's previous commanding officers requiring him to rest, or Denethor (though Denethor had rarely been that aware of his second son's health), Faramir would have merely rested until left unattended, and then gotten dressed and gone about his day. This had been an effective strategy against everyone except his brother Boromir, who had hidden his baby brother's clothing during Faramir's recoveries.
Aragorn did not know of Boromir's tactics for keeping his younger brother quietly abed, but his friend had the advantage in any argument of being Faramir's King and mentor. More, when Faramir worried Aragorn, the King would get that grieved, upset look on his face. Faramir hated that look. He did his best to avoid causing it.
And were Faramir to simply wait for a quiet moment and then proceed to go about his day, disregarding Elrond's instructions and showing up for the discussion with the Easterlings, Aragorn would not wait until after the meeting was over to call his Steward to account. No, Faramir would likely find himself excused on some polite pretext and sent back in bed in short order. Where he would be force-fed a sleeping draught or provided with an annoyed babysitter. Then later he would be spanked soundly and forced to take an extra day off upon full recovery as penalties for his disobedience. And that would be in addition to whatever consequences he would already be facing for having attempted to break up the riot without waiting for backup from the Guard.
'No thank you,' thought Faramir to himself, considering other alternatives. Aragorn, unlike Denethor and even Boromir, would probably not mind Faramir arguing for a review of his sentence, or even using strong words to do so. Aragorn had a great tolerance for honesty bordering on impertinence, provided it was not accompanied by actual disobedience. Deciding upon that tactic, Faramir drifted off to sleep.
A few hours later, Faramir awoke to the gentle murmur of familiar voices.
"How are you feeling, dear one?" Elessar Telcontar, King of the Reunited Kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor, called Aragorn or Estel by his friends and family, asked with a relieved smile, upon realizing that Faramir was awake and with them again.
"Better," Faramir ventured carefully, giving his King and Aragorn's elven brothers and Melpomaen a slight smile. "But I do not think I can lie abed all day, there is too much to be done."
The King raised a skeptical eyebrow as he replied, "Nothing that is more important than your health, my Steward. I'd prefer to ask you to rest today, but I'll order it if I must."
"But Aragorn..." Faramir argued winsomely, "Don't you want my assistance with the delegation of Easterling Chieftains? Their customs can be passing strange, and no one else on your staff has dealt with them as extensively as I have."
Aragorn grinned sympathetically at his bed-ridden chief vassal, "I'd much prefer to have you at my side, Faramir, 'tis true."
Looking pleased, the younger, red-gold haired man made to arise from his bed and prepare for the day.
"Oh, no," Aragorn objected fondly, planting a hand on his Steward's shoulder. "My father said that he didn't like the look of your head wound from last night's brawl, and I like it not either. We will have to do without you today, my dear young man. We may even reschedule this meeting. Although your briefings were thorough and helpful as they almost always are, and I and our staff are not unprepared."
"Start the morning's meeting by offering them wine," Lord Elrohir of Imladris advised his foster-brother the King with a mischievous grin. "That will make them offer to reschedule in a hurry."
Aragorn glared mildly at his oldest brother, "'Elrohir, I DID travel in Rhun for a time. I KNOW offering them wine before mid-day is considered a deadly insult, and I have NO real desire to be challenged to a duel by a Chieftain of Rhun today, thank you."
Faramir sighed, although he was somewhat relieved to hear that this wouldn't be his King's first experience with the Chieftains of Rhun. "Aragorn, postponing might also be perceived as an insult, but I'd still feel better if Uncle Imrahil hadn't been delayed. It feels almost as it did before the Ring was destroyed, when agents of Sauron intervened in our affairs subtly. It makes me uneasy."
Aragorn considered his young friend and valued officer solemnly.
"Is this a premonition?" the King asked seriously.
"Nay," Faramir answered, settling against his pillows and trying to plan what he might manage to get done this day from his bed. "If it was, I would have told you at once. It may just be that I am still feeling queasy. Gimli's cousin was none too gentle when he knocked me out of the way of that stonemason's knife."
"I know," Aragorn replied with sympathy, resisting the impulse to again check the healing lump on the side of his Steward's head. "But even Imrahil's ships are bound to run into bad weather sometimes. More, I am fairly sure that the contretemps between the dwarves and the stonemasons' guild was none of Sauron's doing. Nor anyone's save for particularly hard-headed masons. They've been starting these fights with the dwarves near monthly, despite all of our best efforts at dissuasion."
"Monthly!" commented the King's twin brothers' friend and advisor, Melpomaen, who was also a young elven Lord.
Faramir noted with some concern that his companion of the previous night had eschewed any of the several unclaimed chairs in the bedroom Arwen had so caringly redecorated for him. Faramir hoped he had not gotten his quiet friend in trouble with the normally kind, easy-going Chief Adviser who was Melpomaen's adoptive father.
"Nearly monthly - I think they may have missed July," elaborated Lord Elladan, Elrohir's twin brother. He did not resist the impulse to check Faramir's head wound again.
The Steward accepted his ministration with ill-concealed impatience.
The younger twin patted Faramir's shoulder gently in thanks for his forbearance, and explained to his visiting elven companion, "The masons were looking forward to getting all of the contracts for rebuilding the city. They had already made purchases on credit based on those future commissions. When Estel assigned a number of the rebuilding contracts to the dwarves and later the elves, and insisted they be paid, although some are donating their wages to charity, well, the masons took it rather poorly."
"That, and some of their techniques are truly inferior to those of your people, and Gimli's," Faramir added honestly. "Melpomaen, I must apologize to you. I should have waited for the Guard to join us before wading into the fray. But these fights can get ugly if they are allowed to really get going. I thought I had arrived in good enough time that the combatants might yet be convinced to abandon fisticuffs for drinking, and I judged wrong."
"More," Elrohir observed with a frown, "You did not know that Melpomaen would follow you."
"And that," Faramir agreed, with an apologetic glance towards Melpomaen.
Melpomaen smiled warmly, a twinkle of humor in his caring brown eyes, "Apology accepted, Faramir. I have followed the twins into far worse situations with less warning."
Both twins looked ready to protest, but they subsided at their younger foster -brother's quelling look.
Aragorn instructed Faramir, "Arwen wants to discuss her plans for your birthday celebration today, and I must go prepare to meet these Easterlings. We'll discuss your casual disregard for proper procedure when approaching a riot later, when you are feeling more yourself."
"Aye, Aragorn," Faramir accepted, favoring the King an apologetic expression.
Aragorn sighed. He found it hard to stay angry with Faramir when the younger man was hurting. All the more so when he seemed to recognize that he had made a mistake. He abandoned his stern, Kingly glare and stated fondly "Behave yourself like a good patient today, my Prince, and that discussion will go easier."
"I will," Faramir agreed unhappily.
Several hours later, after Faramir had slept again and after Arwen and her ladies had come and gone, Faramir was accompanied by only the Elrondion twins, and their advisor.
"I can't believe your sister won't take no for an answer," Faramir observed with muted horror. His expression was akin to that of a man who was watching an avalanche or some other act of nature, and was powerless to stop it. He thought to himself that it would be more appropriate to call the Queen ‘Arwen Indomitable’ rather than ‘Arwen Undomiel.’ Although, perhaps, given Luthien’s feats, the two monikers might be taken to mean much the same thing.
Elrohir snorted, "Do you KNOW my sister?" he jested. "Arwen can't be stopped once she's made up her mind."
"Cheer up, Faramir," Elladan encouraged with an infectious grin. "Your thirty-fourth birthday party isn't going to be anywhere near as big a to-do as Melpomaen's first coming-of-age party."
"Don't remind me," said Melpomaen.
Faramir tilted his head in confusion, "FIRST coming-of-age party?" he asked "Don't most elves only have one?"
Melpomaen sighed, as Elladan smiled even more broadly.
The younger twin explained. "MOST only have one. As a matter of fact, Elrohir and I only had one, even though we're two elves, but Mel here..."
Faramir settled back against his comfortable pillows to listen to what was sure to be an interesting story.