A Thousand and One Nights
A thousand and one songs for a thousand and one nights. He remembers each of them; he remembers too, her beloved voice, her quiet laughter.
Untutored fingers tremble on silver strings; the notes shimmer, star-spray in the summer air.
He listens.
Sound, shivering to silence. This is his voice; they will speak again, mother and son, and the shadowed gulf of death shall not divide them.
His heart is heavy with guilt and grief.
One day, perhaps, he will sing to the dawn and the evening star. One day, she shall hear him in her quiet grave by the sea.
***
The Grey Wanderer
He came to them, an old man. Grey was his beard, grey his cloak and his face was stern.
Round-eyed, they stared. For a long while the three were still, the Steward's sons and the stranger; the Tree's white branches between them.
Then, the younger, fair and fearless came forward.
"Welcome, lord Mithrandir." And the wizard saw in the child's gaze, past, present and future - all he was now and all he would one day be. Much grief and sorrow to come; yet faith there was too, and joy at the end.
"Hail, lord Faramir," said Mithrandir, slowly smiling.
***
The Thain's Son
"It is too rich a gift!" whispered Pippin. Gingerly, he held the cup to the light. "But what is it made of?" he asked, puzzled.
Laughter twinkled in Faramir's pale eyes. "It is carved from the bone of a dromedary, master Halfling; a two humped creature that lives in the deserts of Harad. The desert men ride them as we ride horses. It was my brother's once."
Pippin held his breath. "Truly?" Without waiting for an answer, he cried, "Merry, look! A gift from one warrior to another."
Eagerly, Merry turned to the Prince of Ithilien. "Is there another one?"
***
A Thousand and One Nights and The Grey Wanderer are based in part on the Faramir in one of my stories, The Phrygian Flute. Also, I don't know if any camels existed in Harad or if the men of those desert lands rode them. To that exent, The Thain's Son is probably non-canonical.