To Capture the Heart of a Warrior

Chapter nineteen: Artamir





The stranger in the bed next to Pippin’s was beginning to look better now. His face was less swollen now, and Pippin could actually see his eyes enough to tell they were steel grey. He was still thin, but thanks to Pippin’s constantly pressing him to eat and speak, he was coming around. He seemed unable to speak much, and often just repeated what was said to him.

Faramir continued to visit with Pippin and often brought him some little treat from the bakery and creamery. He and Pippin would sit quietly, sharing the repast, and then Pippin would close his eyes and Faramir would once more read the letter to Pippin.

Faramir had grown very fond of Pippin, and the better he got to know Pippin, the more readily he could see why Boromir had loved him so much. On one particular day Faramir had been reading the letter to Pippin and looked up from the page to see Pippin lying quietly, eyes closed, as tears slid down his cheeks. Faramir sat on the side of the bed and held Pippin gently. Faramir was never sure why he did what he did next. He kissed Pippin’s tear-stained cheeks, then kissed him softly on the lips. It was a long kiss, and Pippin did not protest, but when Faramir drew away, Pippin had opened his eyes and looked at Faramir with gratitude and sorrow.

“Faramir, you’re a very good man, a very wonderful man,” Pippin sad, “but you are not Boromir. You kiss like him. You taste like him. You sound like him. You even look like him. I’m very flattered, I assure you, but, dear Man, you aren’t him. No one ever shall be. I thank you for the sentiment, I truly do, but, Faramir, I will never love again.” And with that, Pippin buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

Faramir felt awful, and he gathered the Little One to his chest and held him gently and rocked, whispering “I’m sorry, Little Brother, I’m so sorry. I was a fool. Please forgive me.”

“Goose, there is nothing to forgive!” said Pippin, and laughed amid his tears.

Faramir gave a sigh of relief. He had been horrified at the thought that Pippin might not forgive him.
“What a remarkable creature you are, Peregrin Took,” he said. “Little wonder it is that Boromir the Brave counted you as his first and only love. You made his last days happy ones, and for that I can never repay my debt.”

“There is not debt to repay, fool of a Man!” Pippin smiled.

Faramir laughed. “Only the Ernil i Pheriannath would have the unmitigated cheek to call the standing Steward of Gondor a fool!”

Pippin grinned mischievously. “But I can do that!” he laughed, “Am I not your brother-in-law?”

“Aye, Pippin, that you are.”

“Faramir?”

“Yes, Little Brother?”

“In his letter… he said his rights to Stewardship were forfeit because of me. Why? Is it because I am a halfling, or because I’m not a woman?”

“There is a mystery, Pippin. I had hoped you could tell me, for our laws make no mention of either thing. Tell me, have you ever studied magic?”

“Magic?” Pippin laughed, “Heavens, no! Why?”

“Because if you had, then I could understand why he wrote that. No King or Steward may practice magic, or consort with a lover who does.”

“Oh,” Pippin said. “Then I do understand it now.” Pippins brows drew down. “Faramir, I have something to tell you, but you must swear you’ll not let others know.”

“You have my word, Little Brother.”

“Have you ever heard of fairies?”

Faramir laughed. “Of course I have! They’re creatures from children’s nursery tales. But what has this to do with…”

“Yes, yes!” Pippin said tersely, “And so are halflings, so I’m told.”

Faramir took the point, but still looked mightily confused.

“Faramir,” Pippin said with an air of patience, as if he were speaking to a child, “I’m part fairy. One of my longmothers was from the realm of Fae.”

Faramir visibly blanched. “Are you saying the old tales of fairies are as mistold as those of halflings? That you possess magic, because you are partly a fairy?”

“Aye,” said Pippin. “This mystery is solved. Now, if we could only find out who our patient is, we would have another solved.”

“Pippin, I beg your pardon, but this is passing strange.” said Faramir. “I confess, I am shocked. I had thought the stories of the people of Fae…”

“Fae,” came the voice from the next bed.

“He’s repeating us again,” said Faramir.

Pippin went to his patient and patted his shoulder. “There, there, now, Acushla, try to rest, you are weak and confused, still.”

“I am not Acushla,” he replied.

“Do you remember your name, now?”

“Aye.”

“What is it?”

“Artamir.”

“Artamir? What a wonderful thing!” Pippin cried. “You remember, you remember!”

“Fae,” said Artamir, “He said his soul rests in Fae.”

“What? Faramir! Come, listen!”

“I saw him, I saw Captain Boromir,” Artamir said, “He came to me as I lay near death. He spoke to me. He said, ‘Find him, find him and tell him I yet live. Find him and tell him I shall return.’ But I have not seen this person to tell him this.”

“Nought but a dream, my poor fellow,” said Faramir.

“No, no it was not. My heart tells me I did indeed see him. I must find this person.”

“And in this… vision,” said Faramir. “Did he tell you who it was?”

“Aye,” answered Artamir, “He did.”

“Who, Artamir?” We shall try to find him if you can tell us.” Pippin said.

“Captain Boromir called him…. called him… Yes, I remember now. Poppet. He said to tell his Poppet he will return.”


To Be Continued