NOTE: Just to let you all know, this was done during the holidays, so don't get your hopes high on any regular updating for the moment. And I am also suffering from a sever bout of writer's block, but I will do my utmost to get the chapters in.
This is about Faramir, son of Denethor son of Etchelion. I hope I have done his complex character justice.
DISCLAIMER: Not Conceived by me but Written for the greater good.
SCHOLAR, POET, WARRIOR, SON
In archives deep within the walls
Buried under tomes of lore
Ancient knowledge he searches for
Facts undiscovered, he yearns for more
And when the day is almost gone
Wearily he stands and runs
Back to the palace where lyres thrum
Of a lordly princedom he desires none
For his heart is humble and pure and just
Of absolute power there is no lust
And untainted is his goodwill and compassion by rust
Scholar, Poet, Warrior, Son
And when the day has broken clear
The scholar wakes with his books near
But sire's eyes had held no love
As he had craved as the younger son
Only the elder took the part
Of daring rouge, of royal tart
Of bravest captain and loyal dart
And so as he was pushed aside
The heart that was within him cried
For love that was to him denied
Scholar, Poet, Warrior, Son
His eloquence is matched by none
Poetic are his words when sung
He knows of pain, he knows of fear
Yet his voice still rings out in cheer
And when he sits by clear cold stream
Fluidly from his mouth they spring
To pen and paper offering
His words which he dictates by hand
And when he hears a whisper stand
Upon his mind, upon his land
He writes as furiously as only he can
Scholar, Poet, Warrior, Son
He has made the ladies swoon
With fair words under light of moon
But he'd woo them not, for his courage waning
When their with their high voices complaining
Of elder brother's affections never attaining
Through his him knows they might gain a chance
To win brother's heart, his title, his glance
So the poet's words are wasted again
Upon some daft unworthy dame
Leaving him mortified in heart and name
He waited until his turn came:
Scholar, Poet, Warrior, Son
Of violence he utterly abhors
As he fights enemies by the scores
And holding his blade aloft he catches
A flash of light, a flash of steel
He loves not what the battle may bring
But what he protects, and so he is bold
As he fights his foes f old
Evil which would make the blood run cold
And as the dark crept over the light
And bred the foul broil of evil night
So he grew in stature and might
Scholar, Poet, Warrior, Son
His father mistook his hate of bloodshed
For weakness. And he forced him so
To leave his home and fight the foe
And so to wooded country he went
As patrolling ranger his days were spent
He became a captain brave and strong
Out in the wilderness for so long
And he earned the love of his men
They would follow and fight like true friends
They he could master and the beasts of fen
The Scholar, Poet, Warrior, Son
But father's eyes were still unloving
To a son who was so worthy
And so he pushed himself to master
Whatever he thought would bring his father
To nod with approval, to smile with pride
"But it was never so" he sighed
For when his mother ad given him birth
She sickened soon after and left the earth
Husband, sons and lands around grieved
For the Lady who had come from the sea
And his father had loved her so
But it hurt too much too let it go
In younger son's face he saw a likeness
Of his beloved wife, the face of brightness
And so insane with grief and longing
He never looked on him as one of his own
And such was the torment that followed for
The Scholar, Poet, Warrior, Son
When the city was under threat
He ordered him to ride to certain death
And when he returned mortally wounded
He had cried, "My line has ended!"
"Prepare to burn me on the pyre"
"There is no hope now, nothing matters
They had almost set a fire to his flesh
When loyal guard sprang up at last
He slew the man who held the fire
And seized the captain from the pyre
And so by fealty his life was not dire
The faithful captain, the loyal son
He strode about the wards of healing
Wounds a closing, strength returning
Of father's death by fire learning
Mourning deeply, for him yearning
But as he was walking about
A sight of beauty calmed the rout
Within his heart, within his mind,
Within his lordly frame defined
She was pale and bitter as the blade she bore
Yet beautiful and slender as the white dress she wore
When she turned her gaze on him
Her sorrow would make his head swim
And he then knew his chances were slim,
The Scholar, Poet, Warrior, Son
He loved her much, for that he was certain,
But hid it behind a velvet curtain
For her heart was with yonder king
Victorious lord with glory shining
But he had a queen of beauty radiant
So he watched her despair as she fought life with defiance
He sought to tell her his heart was true
With a Starry Mantle of Midnight Blue
She smiled a little, and he mused a space
He said, "She has a lovely face"
"Life indeed will lend her grace"
The Lady to which his heart had gone
He made her laugh, he made her smile
And soon she realized a while
That she had never loved a man more
Than the one who had returned her heart before
She saw a trail of flowers soft
Under stars in sky aloft
She followed petals, she followed scent
She was led hither incandescent
She told him that her heart was true
He laughed for joy as sorrows flew
For with her around no more they knew
The Scholar, Poet, Warrior, Son