A Face in the Crowd: Faramir

Chapter Six - Ill News

"Do you mind if I check for fever, my lord?" she asked in a rush.

"I was hoping you would," he said in a friendly tone. "Are you a healer, or are you simply making a habit lately of finding a way to be at my side exactly when I have need of you?" He teased her gently, but then his voice grew soft, and his countenance serious. "For I did have need of you that day by the gate, although I did not know it at the time. You gave me hope. And I fought a little harder in the battle that followed, because of you."

The world jolted a little, but she carried on with her task. Her hand was surprisingly steady as she brushed the hair from his face and held the back of her hand up to his forehead. She gently took his wrist between the fingers of her other hand to check his pulse. It was steady and strong, to her great relief, and there was no hint of a fever, his brow cool and smooth.

"Is it a habit you wish me to keep up?"

She spoke without thinking, casually, playfully, forgetting his rank, forgetting her place, forgetting everything but the touch of his skin beneath her fingers.

Her hands remained where they were and their eyes met for the shortest of moments before she drew away and came back to reality.

"My lord," she added, belatedly.

"Just Faramir," he said. "And I hope I may call you Keren?"

Her mouth twitched into a tiny smile.

"You may, my lord," she said.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Faramir," she said quietly, the smile growing.

She hoped beyond hope that no-one would come in.

"I'll check your wound," she said, avoiding any further names or titles. "You'll need to sit up so I can change the dressing."

He slowly raised himself up so he was holding his own weight, grimacing slightly as he felt the delicate skin around the injury stretch. Keren tried to hide the deep breath she took. The last time she had checked his injury he had been unconscious, unaware of her shaking hands.

"Are you able to remove your shirt?" she asked quickly. "I can – I can help you."

She could see what it cost him to admit he needed assistance.

"I would...appreciate that," he said, frustration clear upon his face. But she had seen this many times, so as simply and as quickly as she could she pulled the thin material up and over his head, as he gingerly bent his arms and neck. He hissed in pain as he raised his left arm a little higher than his injury would have liked.

She placed his shirt on the bed and checked his bandages. They had been changed the night before by the look of things, and they were still clean. Gently she reached around his neck and undid the neat knot at his shoulder, unwinding the thin strips of linen that had been wrapped around his chest from his right shoulder down to his ribs on his left side, covering his heart, which the arrow had entered perilously close to. She noticed he made sure to keep his gaze down towards the bed.

Keren equally ensured that she focussed on the bandages, not on his torso. Once they were all removed she saw that the wound was healing well, stitches in place, no blood. There was some bruising, but that would fade. Her eyes took in his chest as a whole, and then, against her better judgement, swept over his bare arms and stomach. She had expected this - a soldier's body, well-conditioned and well cared for - but to be in such close proximity to it was making it tricky to concentrate.

"How is it?" he asked, sounding worried. And no wonder, he probably thought she had been staring silently in horror at the state of him.

"Um," she said, her voice tiny. "It's healed well, you'll only have a small scar."