A/N- I have no rights concerning the characters in this story or the song
lyrics involved in it's telling. This is just an exercise in fanfiction,
written by "Narya's Bane." Said author claims no ownership- the characters
belong to the Tolkien estate, and the music to the band "Tears for Fears."
Do not sue her in attempt to gain the chewing gum which is all that she
legally owns.
Thank You.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Almost fifteen years before the War of the Ring, there was unrest as the darkness grew in the land of Minas Tirith. Among those effected by this uncertainty was the steward's youngest son, Faramir.
This is just a part of his story. . .
--- --- --- --- --- ---
Faramir was simply running through the city, as fast as his young legs could carry him. At least, young by the standards of many men in this time: at nineteen, he was still considered a boy by much of the city- and foremost by his father, who still attempted to control his son's destiny and keep him in a spot where he could look down upon him.
Today wasn't supposed to be quite this hectic, but Faramir still found that he needed to get away from all the reminders of what was going on around him. Denethor hadn't even noticed the absence, and wouldn't have cared if he had. At least, that was Faramir's thinking as he neared the center of the city.
The people were out and about, much to his dismay; even after so long, he felt as though all the people were simply existing- as his family often did- without any passion for their lives. And the whole sight depressed him even more as he looked around and saw the blank, expressionless eyes that surrounded him on his journey towards the secret hiding space so few knew about at this time. In fact, only three. . .
// All around me are familiar face, worn out places, worn out faces-
bright and early for their daily races, going nowhere- going nowhere. . .
And their tears are filling up their glasses,
No expression- no expression.
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow- no tomorrow, no tomorrow. . . \\
Faramir sighed, stepping carefully as he left the busiest part of the city for the more secluded points higher up- nearer to the very person he wanted to hide from. Yet there, right under his father's very nose, was the best place to sit and think without disturbance.
Perhaps there he could start sorting through the new round of dreams which were plaguing him. Perhaps worst, however, was the fact that these were the most vivid- the most real. And even more, what made them most dangerous is that these were actually good in nature, drawing him in so that he hated each moment spent in the real world.
All right, not every moment. Only those in which he had to think about how he might be judged. Unfortunately, those were the times which abounded in his life.
From a higher spot, Faramir looked down on the main city where people wandered along. So busy, yet with no true goals! And within all the realization that they were being ruled by a man who seemed to be going even farther away then ever.
Denethor, who had become very busy whenever he was truly needed. Denethor- who did not even see his two sons scrambling for his attention and trying to gain it. Denethor, who heeded the advances only of the son who gained more strength in arms.
Faramir sighed as he considered the oddity within this darkening city.
// And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad, because the dreams in which I'm drowning are the best I've ever had.
And I find it hard to tell you; I find it hard to take.
When people run in circles it's a very, very. . .
Mad World.
Mad World. \\
Faramir finally left the spot to get to his final, impossibly located final destination. As he slid through the side entrance, quietly waiting to make sure everything was clear, it became even more obvious there was to be no true time alone. Slowly, he pulled to the side and waited for the house staff to pass. Each ignored his presence, whether by choice or order he knew not. Then, carefully, he opened the door under the staircase and hid in the small room within it. It once had been a storage room, but through the years had been cleared out and failed to be used except as a hideaway.
"Faramir! I've been expecting you."
Faramir turned, then smiled. "I didn't think you would here. Not until I saw the signals outside, at least."
Boromir simply shook his head in response. "Didn't expect me to be around for my little brother's birthday? Odd you should think so."
Faramir shrugged. "Nobody else is."
"I'm not everybody else."
"So it seems."
There was a moment's hesitation before Faramir got in closer, settling on one of the few chairs which had been set up in this small cavern. There was a book he'd been working on reading on it, which he tossed into the nearest corner before continuing the conversation.
"How is father?" he asked Boromir quietly.
"Well," was the immediate answer- followed by a small white lie. "He sends his greetings on your birthday."
"Of course he does." It was no secret that Boromir often sent messages Denethor had never generated. Still, Faramir appreciated the consideration. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"
"Not today."
// Children waiting for the day they feel good; happy birthday- happy birthday.
Made to feel the way that every child should; sit and listen- sit and listen. . .\\
Faramir looked into space for a moment, then met his brother's eyes. "Boromir, did you hear. . ?"
Boromir just nodded, saving his brother from having to recount the uncomfortable moment from earlier that morning. It had been seemingly simple: a training lesson, but one which went wrong quickly. Too many nerves, followed by a moment when nobody recognized Faramir as Denethor's son.
"I didn't have realize how difficult it would be to handle these moments."
"I know," Boromir explained. "When he hardly speaks to you, few see you for who you are. You have to make your own print, Faramir- be your own person, and then it won't be so hard not to have his eye on you."
Faramir nodded, but didn't truly listen. After all, there was much difference between the two brothers in this matter! Boromir was strong, seen as something his father could never be- there was no need for him to be defined by what came before him. Faramir, however, saw the similarities- knew himself to be a mirror of who his father had been long ago. He needed that to be seen, and had the distinct feeling if such ever came out then he could gain what confidence he needed.
Then again, there was truth in Boromir's words. . .
Yet all answers fell short of the truth.
// Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me, no one knew me.
Hello teacher tell me: what's my lesson?
Look right through me, look right through me. . . \\
"I can become something my own," Faramir whispered in wonder, realizing his own strength. "Boromir- there is something you must tell me."
"Anything."
"Have you ever watched the people, and wondered if they were really and truly happy in the life they lead?"
Boromir looked at his brother calmly, not disrupted by the slight change of topic. "I have, but that was many years ago."
"I have an idea."
// And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad, because the dreams in which I'm drowning are the best I've ever had.
And I find it hard to tell you; I find it hard to take.
When people run in circles it's a very, very. . .
Mad World.
Mad World. \\
The idea which came into play only years later, as Faramir started leading the forces of Ithilien (a/n- I'm not in a place to check my mail; sorry if I've spelt that wrong). Then it became clear. . .
It took many years, but soon Faramir had gained the respect- then the loyalty- of the men around him. And through his actions all saw what could come of the future- and soon the city truly loved Faramir, youngest son of Denethor-
It was only the family of Stewards which did not see the eyes of the city, and ignored that they had more will to follow Faramir than the others of his household.
It was a blindness that lasted not long, as the changes went quickly until all was differed in its own way. Yet through a decision held by the young boy, the city learned how to care for its rulers and love life- thus bringing a light into the mad world before the time was up.
Thank You.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Almost fifteen years before the War of the Ring, there was unrest as the darkness grew in the land of Minas Tirith. Among those effected by this uncertainty was the steward's youngest son, Faramir.
This is just a part of his story. . .
--- --- --- --- --- ---
Faramir was simply running through the city, as fast as his young legs could carry him. At least, young by the standards of many men in this time: at nineteen, he was still considered a boy by much of the city- and foremost by his father, who still attempted to control his son's destiny and keep him in a spot where he could look down upon him.
Today wasn't supposed to be quite this hectic, but Faramir still found that he needed to get away from all the reminders of what was going on around him. Denethor hadn't even noticed the absence, and wouldn't have cared if he had. At least, that was Faramir's thinking as he neared the center of the city.
The people were out and about, much to his dismay; even after so long, he felt as though all the people were simply existing- as his family often did- without any passion for their lives. And the whole sight depressed him even more as he looked around and saw the blank, expressionless eyes that surrounded him on his journey towards the secret hiding space so few knew about at this time. In fact, only three. . .
// All around me are familiar face, worn out places, worn out faces-
bright and early for their daily races, going nowhere- going nowhere. . .
And their tears are filling up their glasses,
No expression- no expression.
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow- no tomorrow, no tomorrow. . . \\
Faramir sighed, stepping carefully as he left the busiest part of the city for the more secluded points higher up- nearer to the very person he wanted to hide from. Yet there, right under his father's very nose, was the best place to sit and think without disturbance.
Perhaps there he could start sorting through the new round of dreams which were plaguing him. Perhaps worst, however, was the fact that these were the most vivid- the most real. And even more, what made them most dangerous is that these were actually good in nature, drawing him in so that he hated each moment spent in the real world.
All right, not every moment. Only those in which he had to think about how he might be judged. Unfortunately, those were the times which abounded in his life.
From a higher spot, Faramir looked down on the main city where people wandered along. So busy, yet with no true goals! And within all the realization that they were being ruled by a man who seemed to be going even farther away then ever.
Denethor, who had become very busy whenever he was truly needed. Denethor- who did not even see his two sons scrambling for his attention and trying to gain it. Denethor, who heeded the advances only of the son who gained more strength in arms.
Faramir sighed as he considered the oddity within this darkening city.
// And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad, because the dreams in which I'm drowning are the best I've ever had.
And I find it hard to tell you; I find it hard to take.
When people run in circles it's a very, very. . .
Mad World.
Mad World. \\
Faramir finally left the spot to get to his final, impossibly located final destination. As he slid through the side entrance, quietly waiting to make sure everything was clear, it became even more obvious there was to be no true time alone. Slowly, he pulled to the side and waited for the house staff to pass. Each ignored his presence, whether by choice or order he knew not. Then, carefully, he opened the door under the staircase and hid in the small room within it. It once had been a storage room, but through the years had been cleared out and failed to be used except as a hideaway.
"Faramir! I've been expecting you."
Faramir turned, then smiled. "I didn't think you would here. Not until I saw the signals outside, at least."
Boromir simply shook his head in response. "Didn't expect me to be around for my little brother's birthday? Odd you should think so."
Faramir shrugged. "Nobody else is."
"I'm not everybody else."
"So it seems."
There was a moment's hesitation before Faramir got in closer, settling on one of the few chairs which had been set up in this small cavern. There was a book he'd been working on reading on it, which he tossed into the nearest corner before continuing the conversation.
"How is father?" he asked Boromir quietly.
"Well," was the immediate answer- followed by a small white lie. "He sends his greetings on your birthday."
"Of course he does." It was no secret that Boromir often sent messages Denethor had never generated. Still, Faramir appreciated the consideration. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"
"Not today."
// Children waiting for the day they feel good; happy birthday- happy birthday.
Made to feel the way that every child should; sit and listen- sit and listen. . .\\
Faramir looked into space for a moment, then met his brother's eyes. "Boromir, did you hear. . ?"
Boromir just nodded, saving his brother from having to recount the uncomfortable moment from earlier that morning. It had been seemingly simple: a training lesson, but one which went wrong quickly. Too many nerves, followed by a moment when nobody recognized Faramir as Denethor's son.
"I didn't have realize how difficult it would be to handle these moments."
"I know," Boromir explained. "When he hardly speaks to you, few see you for who you are. You have to make your own print, Faramir- be your own person, and then it won't be so hard not to have his eye on you."
Faramir nodded, but didn't truly listen. After all, there was much difference between the two brothers in this matter! Boromir was strong, seen as something his father could never be- there was no need for him to be defined by what came before him. Faramir, however, saw the similarities- knew himself to be a mirror of who his father had been long ago. He needed that to be seen, and had the distinct feeling if such ever came out then he could gain what confidence he needed.
Then again, there was truth in Boromir's words. . .
Yet all answers fell short of the truth.
// Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me, no one knew me.
Hello teacher tell me: what's my lesson?
Look right through me, look right through me. . . \\
"I can become something my own," Faramir whispered in wonder, realizing his own strength. "Boromir- there is something you must tell me."
"Anything."
"Have you ever watched the people, and wondered if they were really and truly happy in the life they lead?"
Boromir looked at his brother calmly, not disrupted by the slight change of topic. "I have, but that was many years ago."
"I have an idea."
// And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad, because the dreams in which I'm drowning are the best I've ever had.
And I find it hard to tell you; I find it hard to take.
When people run in circles it's a very, very. . .
Mad World.
Mad World. \\
The idea which came into play only years later, as Faramir started leading the forces of Ithilien (a/n- I'm not in a place to check my mail; sorry if I've spelt that wrong). Then it became clear. . .
It took many years, but soon Faramir had gained the respect- then the loyalty- of the men around him. And through his actions all saw what could come of the future- and soon the city truly loved Faramir, youngest son of Denethor-
It was only the family of Stewards which did not see the eyes of the city, and ignored that they had more will to follow Faramir than the others of his household.
It was a blindness that lasted not long, as the changes went quickly until all was differed in its own way. Yet through a decision held by the young boy, the city learned how to care for its rulers and love life- thus bringing a light into the mad world before the time was up.