The Holly-Folk of Gondor by AdmirableMonster  

The Coming of the Ring

March 7, 3019. Faramir’s limbs felt weak, but he was almost elated as he left the curtained-off alcove that the Halflings still resided in.  He felt as if he had been tested, and he had passed the test.  And Boromir—oh, Boromir.  He should not have gone, Faramir thought, in frustrated sorrow; he should have let Faramir go instead, but he never would have.  And who was to say Faramir would not have done as he had done, under the circumstances that Boromir had found himself?

He strode a few paces outwards—and nearly tripped over Noltar, who sat, head tipped back, on the floor of the cave.  “Master Noltar?” Faramir said uncertainly.

That single grey eye opened and looked up at him.  “The Ring,” Noltar said, his voice totally devoid of any emotion.  Faramir felt his joy drain away, as something in the vicinity of his chest tightened.  “The One Ring.”

“You…overheard?”

He had expected Noltar to be in the forge, in the small cramped place they had set up by a fire for the forging and repair of weaponry.

“I heard it whisper.”  Noltar looked up at him, and the brilliant light in his one remaining eye was cold and dim, like the last dying ember of a forge-fire.  Faramir felt a chill run down his spine. 

He put out a hand.  “You are not well,” he said, softly.  “Come with me, Master Noltar, I will take you for some water.”

The gold-lined mask turned towards him; the head tilted.  It did not tilt the way Faramir thought it should.  He had not thought Noltar’s muscles could bend that way.  “Am I not well…?” Noltar said, and his voice did not sound like the cheerful Elf Faramir knew as well as his own father.  He reached out and grabbed Faramir’s wrist, leaning forward.  “Do you know where that Ring should have been?” he hissed, and though his grip was weak, the nails dug painfully into Faramir’s wrist.

“Hush, hush.”  Faramir put an arm around his shoulders, trying to get him up and usher him away from the room where the Halflings lay.

Noltar raised a trembling hand.  “Upon…upon…” He made a horrible noise, almost like a twisted growl.  

“Come along.”  He was trying to resist Faramir, but he was no match for him.  He was too small and stooped, too light, his muscles too weak.  An Elf, yes, Faramir knew, but more like an old man—an ancient man.  Half the time he forgot Noltar was not human.

Now he was struggling, squirming in Faramir’s grip, and it felt horrible. “Give him back,” Noltar whispered, making that awful noise again, and Faramir realized suddenly it was a sob.  He was sobbing and mumbling something Faramir could barely here.  “Give him back to me, please—please—I cannot tell you, I cannot—”

“Forgive me,” Faramir whispered, and he lifted Noltar bodily to carry him away.

“Defiler!” spat Noltar.  “Ai—ai, no, Annatar, my love, I did not mean it, I did not—please, please do not—”  He screamed, but his too-soft voice would not let him make a sound much louder than a whisper.  Faramir thought he might throw up.  

He carried Noltar all the way down the narrow stone staircase, and Noltar struggled and fought like a tiger the entire way, his words going from anger to pleading and back until Faramir thought he must be sick to hear the words dropping from the mouth of someone he loved so.  He carried him all the way out to the little pool at the base of the waterfall, and only then did Noltar go limp, shuddering, as Faramir set him down beside it.

“Master Noltar?” Faramir asked, and though he did not mean for it, his voice trembled terribly.

One of those slim, too-young hands reached up, stripped off the mask and flung it to the grass.  Noltar bent forward and splashed the water of the pool across his face.  “I am sorry,” he said in a low voice.  “I cannot—I am so sorry, Faramir.”

Had it done this to Boromir, Faramir wondered sickly.  Had the thought of that pretty gold glinting in his mind turned him into a broken, maddened creature?  But he had overcome it, and as Noltar swallowed the cold water of the pool, it seemed that he must have as well.

Faramir knelt beside him in concern.  His words seemed insufficient, but not speaking of it seemed monstrous.  “Do you need anything from me?” he said at last.

Slowly, Noltar shook his head.  “You know—I was taken,” he said after a moment.

“Yes,” Faramir agreed.  “You have said as much.  And your eye—”

“No one escapes,” Noltar said softly.  “No one has ever escaped.  You die there, in that black pit—or you are rescued.”

Faramir licked his lips.  He did not know what to say to that.  He was not sure if any words could help.  He put a careful hand on Noltar’s, very gently, ready to take it away again if Noltar flinched, but he took the hand and held it as he continued to speak.

“I was rescued,” he murmured.  “As my uncle before me, I was taken from that terrible place by my lover.  But the touch of the Shadow never left him, and he remained there.”  He took a deep, shuddering breath.  “I think perhaps I had better sleep outside for tonight.  Until the Halflings move on.”

“I will get you a tent,” Faramir said, but Noltar shook his head.

“I—no, just a bedroll, please.  I must sleep beneath the stars.  If I woke to darkness, I—” he choked the words off.  “I’m sorry.”

“Do not be sorry.  How often have you held me while I cried?” Faramir said gently.  “I will fetch you a bedroll.”

When he returned, he found that Noltar had stripped off his legs and was dangling the stumps of his knee and calf in the cold water, staring upward at the stars.  “I think I should return to Gondor tomorrow,” he said slowly.  “It will be best if I have no knowledge of the direction the Halflings take.”

Faramir nodded, taking his hand gently.  “Níniel can take you; she is our bravest rider but our worst swordfighter.”

“I hope she will not find me too much of a burden,” Noltar said, then shook his head and patted Faramir’s hand.  “Never mind me, Faramir.  It has been a difficult trial, but I have faced worse.”

“You would rather be alone?” Faramir asked, handing over the bedroll.

“Thank you.  Go back and guard the Halflings well.”

“I will,” Faramir said.  When he paused at the entrance and looked back, Noltar had lain back on the bedroll with his hands behind his head and his mask off, scarred face tipped up to the starlight.  Faramir wondered what it was he was thinking of.

* * *

In the morning, once the Halflings had left, Faramir went down to find Noltar again.  He was almost where Faramir had left him, staring down into the waters of the pool, odd and faraway.  He did not look up at all; finally, Faramir took off his shoes and sat beside him, dandling his legs in the water.

“Master Noltar?” he said softly.

“Hm?”  Noltar stirred, as if waking from a dream.  He was looking down at his hands, clasped loosely in his lap.  “Ah, I’m sorry, Faramir.  Is all well?”

“Yes.  How are you feeling?”

Noltar gave him a strange sidelong glance.  “Not so poorly this morning as I was last night, I think,” he said, finally.  “And yet—” He sighed.  “I wonder if he will—” He broke off and raised his hand, and Faramir realized he was brushing a tear from his eye.  “I will not see him again.  But it was still more than I thought I would ever have again.”

He was still far away, Faramir realized, still half caught in whatever he had been dreaming of, so he waited.  They sat together as the Sun rose higher, and Noltar blinked to something more like wakefulness.

“I think you must go back to Minas Tirith,” Faramir told him.  “Níniel can carry you.”

“Yes,” Noltar agreed, and now he reached over to pat Faramir’s hand.  “I will be safe enough, at least until no one is safe any longer.”

“The dark will come very soon, won’t it?” Faramir whispered, feeling for an instant like a child again, fearful of the things he was certain dwelt beneath his bed.

Noltar turned and embraced him tightly.  “It will,” he said.  “And you will be ready for it, just as you were last night.  And no matter what happens, know that I am so proud of you.”

“I know,” Faramir choked.  An hour later, he watched as Níniel and Noltar rode away and wondered if he would see either of them again.