Summary: In the years before the fall of Osgiliath and the Fellowship's quest to destroy the one Ring, Faramir finds himself besotted with a lady from Gondor, but the resentment Denethor harbors for his younger son threatens to ruin everything.
Rating: PG (romance/angst)
Disclaimer: This story is based upon the characters and world created by J.R.R. Tolkien in his books "The Hobbit," "Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring," "Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers," and "Lord of the Rings: Return of the King." They are also based - in part - on the movie version of "Lord of the Rings," directed by Peter Jackson. These stories are meant for entertainment only, and I receive no monetary compensation for them - only the enjoyment of writing them. Some few passages have been quoted from either book or movie only for purposes of story continuity. These are marked with ** at the end of the passage.
The setting and all characters are the creations of Tolkien except for the following, who are my own: Seralina (Serra-leena), Hamathar (Hamma-thar)
I'm new to writing fanfiction, so these first few entries may seem pedestrian in plot. I'd welcome constructive reviews…
************
The Rose of Gondor
Chapter 1
Lady Seralina was, by all accounts, the loveliest woman to ever grace Gondor and the city of Minas Tirith. From the moment she was presented at the court of the Steward when she was 14, the city had buzzed about her. She was fair of face with long hair, rich in hue; the same shade as the burnished shells of horse chestnuts with the merest hint of red-gold mixed in. Her eyes were an unusual shade of blue that traced directly back to her grandmother four-generations removed who had been an elf from Rivendell. On her father's side, her lineage traced not only from the ancient Lords of Gondor but also to the ruling clan of Rohan. She could claim third generation kinship to Eomer and Eowyn, the nephew and niece of Theoden King.
Seralina also possessed a grace and charm that delighted those around her. And those petty few who wished to hate her for all the wonderful things she was, soon found they couldn't hate her for long; for the kindness she showed to both Lord and servant, merchant and soldier, was genuine. Soon the people were calling her the Rose of Gondor.
Her father was old friends with the Steward of Gondor and as a child Seralina often found herself in Lord Denethor's house for dinners and visits. Denethor's oldest son and heir, Boromir, was seven years her senior and she always had fond memories of listening to his tales of adventures and excitement out in the Wild. Of course, she knew now that he had embellished those tales to impress the wide-eyed little girl, and that knowledge merely made the memory dearer. Boromir's younger brother, Faramir, was only four years older than she was. More studious and less flamboyant than his brother, Faramir was a bit of a mystery to Seralina but she always looked forward to seeing him when they visited Denethor's home.
From the day of her first presentation in the Steward's court there had been speculation as to who would court Seralina and whom she would someday wed. There were Princes and Lords' sons in many realms that expressed an interest, but her father accepted no official suitors. He had seen excellent marriages arranged in his day but he had also seen terrible ones, and he had promised himself that he would see Seralina not only well wed, but happy as well. He would ask her from time to time about lads she showed interest in, but she would most often keep her thoughts to herself. Seralina had her own thoughts on who would be a suitable husband.
And so it was in her 18th year that Seralina decided it was time to make some of her own opinions on the topic clear.
Every other year, a tournament was held on the Pelennor Fields below the White City. Soldiers and Rangers and men from many kingdoms came to compete in the games. Champions were named for archery and sword-work, for combat and tracking. Winners were rewarded with a specially minted coin. It wasn't worth much as money but it was the prestige and the honor that the men – and occasionally some women – competed for.
This would be her third tournament and Seralina was excited. The city fairly hummed with anticipation. Riders from Rohan had reached Minas Tirith two nights before and even the wizard Gandalf was there in the company of an elf and several Rangers from the North. Seralina had heard many of the other ladies comment on how handsome the elf was with his long blond hair and stunning blue eyes.
As she watched, a group of giggling girls passed her by, and Seralina smiled. "This poor elf warrior," she laughed to her father, "will be unable to compete once all the ladies so smitten with him offer their tokens! His arms will be too weighed down to lift his bow."
It was frequent for the men competing to wear a gift from their lover or wife or from a young woman they wished to court. There would be bits of cloth tied to scabbards or vests, or charms worn around the neck for all to see. Seralina had never given a token to anyone merely deflecting the question with a laugh.
"They are all so interested in who I would give a favor to that they would forget to compete," she would complain. "I'll not be the reason for some young man to lose." But the truth was, she didn't want to give a token to just anyone.
The tournament would begin at noon with all of the participants presenting themselves before Lord Denethor. Seralina walked through the crowd arm in arm with her father. In her free hand she held a true Gondorian rose. That her hand bore no scratch, no cut was a testament to her patience and gentle touch, for not only were Gondorian roses noted for their exquisite petals and delightful fragrance, they were always well protected by a maze of razor-sharp thorns.
"We have excellent seats," said her father. "And you'll be able to see quite well. Perhaps you will cheer for someone?"
"Well, I shall certainly cheer for Prince Eomer when he rides, as he is my cousin and you must cheer for your kin, but as for the others, we shall see." Her father laughed and she smiled at his mirth.
"My Lord Hamathar," called Denethor from just ahead of them. "We've not seen you in a few weeks." Then he smiled. "Ah, the Rose of Gondor. You are lovelier than ever, Seralina. It is, as always, a pleasure to behold you."
"Thank you, My Lord," she said with a smile that masked her dislike. Denethor made her uneasy and the way he favored his eldest son over his youngest angered her to no end. Boromir was always held in esteem as the perfect son and no matter what Faramir did, it was never equal to Boromir. To his credit, Boromir did his best to encourage Faramir and to honor him in his successes. Despite Denethor's interference, the brothers were fond of each other.
"Lord Boromir," she said, "I see you have garnered the favors of several ladies to help you win through the competitions."
"My Boromir will be a tremendous success these next few days, I'd wager," bragged Denethor. The tall, blond man smiled at the praise.
"I should think that the Lord Faramir will also meet with some success?" inquired Seralina, knowing she wouldn't like the Steward's response.
"That boy will do what he will," sighed Denethor. "I expect nothing from him. These games are Boromir's. But alas we must move on. Hamathar, you will join us for dinner next week to celebrate our victories here…"
Premature, thought Seralina, as the games have not yet begun.
"We would be honored, my Lord Steward," said Seralina's father.
The Steward moved on, greeting friends and citizens of the land and Boromir's ringing laugh and voice could be heard over the crowd.
"Ah," Seralina said to her father a few minutes later, "I see that gang of miscreants whom you call your friends beckoning you to join them for some of the fine dwarf mead that I know has been brought up for the games. I wish to look at the market for some things. Shall I meet you at the pavilion box when the contestants present themselves to Lord Denethor?"
Her father hesitated. "This is a large crowd for you to be alone in, daughter…"
She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, father. With all these bragging young men here, I think I could find a few who would come to my rescue should I need the assistance."
The old man sighed and nodded. Seralina did have a point and he knew she also had concealed on her person a very effective dagger, and that she was well versed in its use. He had always encouraged his daughter to know how to defend herself if the need arose. It was not merely for her fair face that Seralina was known as the Rose of Gondor.
Seralina took leave of her father and spent some small amount of time wandering among the merchant booths. She found some fine cloth that she had sent back to the manor it would make a wonderful cloak for the winter, and there was enough to make one for her and to trim the one she was already making as a birthday gift for her father.
She passed a group of the Rohirrim as she neared the playing fields again. She offered them a smile and a polite dip of her head. As she walked on she could hear them behind her.
"That would be the Rose of Gondor, cousin to Eomer of the Mark."
"As beautiful and rich as Eowyn…"
"Aye, but Eowyn be ice and steel… that one looks warm and..."
Seralina felt her cheeks color slightly and the corner of her mouth quirked into a smile. Finally she saw a group of men talking. Mostly they were Rangers from the north and some men of Gondor. They bowed as she passed and then puzzled as she stopped. Looking into the heart of the group, she smiled.
"My Lord Faramir," she said. "I'm pleased to see you. I've not seen you in the city of late, and I had wondered if you would take part in this grand spectacle."
"I will try to hold my own." He smiled at Seralina and then glanced away.
"But I see you bear no colors from a lady," she said. "Surely you are hiding your token away."
Faramir's cheeks colored slightly. "Nay, all of the favors are claimed by others."
Seralina tilted her head to one side. "Well, the son of the Steward cannot go to the mews without something for luck. I know a gentleman usually asks a lady if he may carry her favor, but I would be honored if you would carry mine on the field, Faramir." She held out the Gondorian rose that she held. Every eye in the immediate circle of people turned toward the young man.
Faramir didn't notice them; he wasn't sure he could believe his ears. He'd spent so long in the shadow of his brother that he'd nearly forgotten what it was like to be favored for anything. His eyes remained fixed on the flower she offered and at the sight of his knitted brow, Seralina grew uneasy.
"If I have offended you, my Lord, my apologies…"
"No," said Faramir quickly. "No. Such a gesture would never offend me, but you have taken me by surprise, Seralina."
She smiled. "Then perhaps I should compete in the tracking competition if I can surprise the likes of you." Her laugh sounded like bells to his ears. Stepping up close to Faramir, she wove the stem of the rose through one of the grommet holes of his leather jerkin, tying it securely with the extra lacing.
Faramir, for his part, was looking down at Seralina with wonderment plain on his face, trying to fathom what had inspired her to such a gesture. He, like many others, had always thought Seralina beautiful, and he made a point to be at dinners where she would be even if it meant weathering the derisive comments of his father. In all those years, he'd come to realize he loved Seralina, but he'd always kept his peace. Never once had he thought Seralina would ever grace him with more than a smile and some conversation. In fact, he'd nearly managed to convince himself that he didn't love the Rose of Gondor. Then Seralina turned her own eyes up and when blue met brown, Faramir could no longer lie to himself; he was utterly smitten.
"Luck to you, my Lord," said Seralina with another smile. "I shall watch from the pavilion." She dropped a quick curtsy and hurried on her way. My heart feels as if it will hammer straight out of my chest, she thought to herself. She threw a quick look back over her shoulder and found Faramir still watching her.
***********
That's the first installment… hopefully, you like it so far…
Regards,
Roisin Dubh
Rating: PG (romance/angst)
Disclaimer: This story is based upon the characters and world created by J.R.R. Tolkien in his books "The Hobbit," "Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring," "Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers," and "Lord of the Rings: Return of the King." They are also based - in part - on the movie version of "Lord of the Rings," directed by Peter Jackson. These stories are meant for entertainment only, and I receive no monetary compensation for them - only the enjoyment of writing them. Some few passages have been quoted from either book or movie only for purposes of story continuity. These are marked with ** at the end of the passage.
The setting and all characters are the creations of Tolkien except for the following, who are my own: Seralina (Serra-leena), Hamathar (Hamma-thar)
I'm new to writing fanfiction, so these first few entries may seem pedestrian in plot. I'd welcome constructive reviews…
************
The Rose of Gondor
Chapter 1
Lady Seralina was, by all accounts, the loveliest woman to ever grace Gondor and the city of Minas Tirith. From the moment she was presented at the court of the Steward when she was 14, the city had buzzed about her. She was fair of face with long hair, rich in hue; the same shade as the burnished shells of horse chestnuts with the merest hint of red-gold mixed in. Her eyes were an unusual shade of blue that traced directly back to her grandmother four-generations removed who had been an elf from Rivendell. On her father's side, her lineage traced not only from the ancient Lords of Gondor but also to the ruling clan of Rohan. She could claim third generation kinship to Eomer and Eowyn, the nephew and niece of Theoden King.
Seralina also possessed a grace and charm that delighted those around her. And those petty few who wished to hate her for all the wonderful things she was, soon found they couldn't hate her for long; for the kindness she showed to both Lord and servant, merchant and soldier, was genuine. Soon the people were calling her the Rose of Gondor.
Her father was old friends with the Steward of Gondor and as a child Seralina often found herself in Lord Denethor's house for dinners and visits. Denethor's oldest son and heir, Boromir, was seven years her senior and she always had fond memories of listening to his tales of adventures and excitement out in the Wild. Of course, she knew now that he had embellished those tales to impress the wide-eyed little girl, and that knowledge merely made the memory dearer. Boromir's younger brother, Faramir, was only four years older than she was. More studious and less flamboyant than his brother, Faramir was a bit of a mystery to Seralina but she always looked forward to seeing him when they visited Denethor's home.
From the day of her first presentation in the Steward's court there had been speculation as to who would court Seralina and whom she would someday wed. There were Princes and Lords' sons in many realms that expressed an interest, but her father accepted no official suitors. He had seen excellent marriages arranged in his day but he had also seen terrible ones, and he had promised himself that he would see Seralina not only well wed, but happy as well. He would ask her from time to time about lads she showed interest in, but she would most often keep her thoughts to herself. Seralina had her own thoughts on who would be a suitable husband.
And so it was in her 18th year that Seralina decided it was time to make some of her own opinions on the topic clear.
Every other year, a tournament was held on the Pelennor Fields below the White City. Soldiers and Rangers and men from many kingdoms came to compete in the games. Champions were named for archery and sword-work, for combat and tracking. Winners were rewarded with a specially minted coin. It wasn't worth much as money but it was the prestige and the honor that the men – and occasionally some women – competed for.
This would be her third tournament and Seralina was excited. The city fairly hummed with anticipation. Riders from Rohan had reached Minas Tirith two nights before and even the wizard Gandalf was there in the company of an elf and several Rangers from the North. Seralina had heard many of the other ladies comment on how handsome the elf was with his long blond hair and stunning blue eyes.
As she watched, a group of giggling girls passed her by, and Seralina smiled. "This poor elf warrior," she laughed to her father, "will be unable to compete once all the ladies so smitten with him offer their tokens! His arms will be too weighed down to lift his bow."
It was frequent for the men competing to wear a gift from their lover or wife or from a young woman they wished to court. There would be bits of cloth tied to scabbards or vests, or charms worn around the neck for all to see. Seralina had never given a token to anyone merely deflecting the question with a laugh.
"They are all so interested in who I would give a favor to that they would forget to compete," she would complain. "I'll not be the reason for some young man to lose." But the truth was, she didn't want to give a token to just anyone.
The tournament would begin at noon with all of the participants presenting themselves before Lord Denethor. Seralina walked through the crowd arm in arm with her father. In her free hand she held a true Gondorian rose. That her hand bore no scratch, no cut was a testament to her patience and gentle touch, for not only were Gondorian roses noted for their exquisite petals and delightful fragrance, they were always well protected by a maze of razor-sharp thorns.
"We have excellent seats," said her father. "And you'll be able to see quite well. Perhaps you will cheer for someone?"
"Well, I shall certainly cheer for Prince Eomer when he rides, as he is my cousin and you must cheer for your kin, but as for the others, we shall see." Her father laughed and she smiled at his mirth.
"My Lord Hamathar," called Denethor from just ahead of them. "We've not seen you in a few weeks." Then he smiled. "Ah, the Rose of Gondor. You are lovelier than ever, Seralina. It is, as always, a pleasure to behold you."
"Thank you, My Lord," she said with a smile that masked her dislike. Denethor made her uneasy and the way he favored his eldest son over his youngest angered her to no end. Boromir was always held in esteem as the perfect son and no matter what Faramir did, it was never equal to Boromir. To his credit, Boromir did his best to encourage Faramir and to honor him in his successes. Despite Denethor's interference, the brothers were fond of each other.
"Lord Boromir," she said, "I see you have garnered the favors of several ladies to help you win through the competitions."
"My Boromir will be a tremendous success these next few days, I'd wager," bragged Denethor. The tall, blond man smiled at the praise.
"I should think that the Lord Faramir will also meet with some success?" inquired Seralina, knowing she wouldn't like the Steward's response.
"That boy will do what he will," sighed Denethor. "I expect nothing from him. These games are Boromir's. But alas we must move on. Hamathar, you will join us for dinner next week to celebrate our victories here…"
Premature, thought Seralina, as the games have not yet begun.
"We would be honored, my Lord Steward," said Seralina's father.
The Steward moved on, greeting friends and citizens of the land and Boromir's ringing laugh and voice could be heard over the crowd.
"Ah," Seralina said to her father a few minutes later, "I see that gang of miscreants whom you call your friends beckoning you to join them for some of the fine dwarf mead that I know has been brought up for the games. I wish to look at the market for some things. Shall I meet you at the pavilion box when the contestants present themselves to Lord Denethor?"
Her father hesitated. "This is a large crowd for you to be alone in, daughter…"
She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, father. With all these bragging young men here, I think I could find a few who would come to my rescue should I need the assistance."
The old man sighed and nodded. Seralina did have a point and he knew she also had concealed on her person a very effective dagger, and that she was well versed in its use. He had always encouraged his daughter to know how to defend herself if the need arose. It was not merely for her fair face that Seralina was known as the Rose of Gondor.
Seralina took leave of her father and spent some small amount of time wandering among the merchant booths. She found some fine cloth that she had sent back to the manor it would make a wonderful cloak for the winter, and there was enough to make one for her and to trim the one she was already making as a birthday gift for her father.
She passed a group of the Rohirrim as she neared the playing fields again. She offered them a smile and a polite dip of her head. As she walked on she could hear them behind her.
"That would be the Rose of Gondor, cousin to Eomer of the Mark."
"As beautiful and rich as Eowyn…"
"Aye, but Eowyn be ice and steel… that one looks warm and..."
Seralina felt her cheeks color slightly and the corner of her mouth quirked into a smile. Finally she saw a group of men talking. Mostly they were Rangers from the north and some men of Gondor. They bowed as she passed and then puzzled as she stopped. Looking into the heart of the group, she smiled.
"My Lord Faramir," she said. "I'm pleased to see you. I've not seen you in the city of late, and I had wondered if you would take part in this grand spectacle."
"I will try to hold my own." He smiled at Seralina and then glanced away.
"But I see you bear no colors from a lady," she said. "Surely you are hiding your token away."
Faramir's cheeks colored slightly. "Nay, all of the favors are claimed by others."
Seralina tilted her head to one side. "Well, the son of the Steward cannot go to the mews without something for luck. I know a gentleman usually asks a lady if he may carry her favor, but I would be honored if you would carry mine on the field, Faramir." She held out the Gondorian rose that she held. Every eye in the immediate circle of people turned toward the young man.
Faramir didn't notice them; he wasn't sure he could believe his ears. He'd spent so long in the shadow of his brother that he'd nearly forgotten what it was like to be favored for anything. His eyes remained fixed on the flower she offered and at the sight of his knitted brow, Seralina grew uneasy.
"If I have offended you, my Lord, my apologies…"
"No," said Faramir quickly. "No. Such a gesture would never offend me, but you have taken me by surprise, Seralina."
She smiled. "Then perhaps I should compete in the tracking competition if I can surprise the likes of you." Her laugh sounded like bells to his ears. Stepping up close to Faramir, she wove the stem of the rose through one of the grommet holes of his leather jerkin, tying it securely with the extra lacing.
Faramir, for his part, was looking down at Seralina with wonderment plain on his face, trying to fathom what had inspired her to such a gesture. He, like many others, had always thought Seralina beautiful, and he made a point to be at dinners where she would be even if it meant weathering the derisive comments of his father. In all those years, he'd come to realize he loved Seralina, but he'd always kept his peace. Never once had he thought Seralina would ever grace him with more than a smile and some conversation. In fact, he'd nearly managed to convince himself that he didn't love the Rose of Gondor. Then Seralina turned her own eyes up and when blue met brown, Faramir could no longer lie to himself; he was utterly smitten.
"Luck to you, my Lord," said Seralina with another smile. "I shall watch from the pavilion." She dropped a quick curtsy and hurried on her way. My heart feels as if it will hammer straight out of my chest, she thought to herself. She threw a quick look back over her shoulder and found Faramir still watching her.
***********
That's the first installment… hopefully, you like it so far…
Regards,
Roisin Dubh