Disclaimer: All rights to the plot and characters of the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy belong exclusively to the estate of J.R.R.Tolkien. No commerce is being exchanged in this endeavor, nor is a profit being made. This story is written strictly for entertainment purposes.

Summary:

The heroic portrayal of Boromir by King Elessar's memorial celebration has Faramir much in doubt to its truthfulness until Legolas renews in him the love and trust he once had in Boromir and assures him of his brother's greatness. Answer to the 5/03 Fanfiction Challenge for The Tower of Ecthelion.

TREES TELL NO SECRETS

Meharet

The Tower of Ecthelion soared high over the tree-tops, a spike of beauty piercing the heavens. Brisk spring air ruffled the trees and swayed the tall grasses as flowered blankets of yellow, pink, red, blue and violet dotted the hillside, spreading out to greet the small Ithilien delegation. The trees offered up their brilliant greens as the blue sky dismissed all her clouds for this the morning of a very special day.

Much occupied Prince Faramir's thoughts as the distance to the city lessened. His companion, Legolas, seemed much preoccupied as well. After setting out for the half-day's journey to Minas Tirith, he and the Elf had enjoyed a morning conversation concerning their prospective domains of Ithilien, each seeming to appreciate the listening ear of the other.

Legolas had worked diligently alongside his people in giving aid to the war ravaged forests of the land, slowly replacing pain, anger and fear with hope, peace and love. Though as of late, the Elven Lord had seen little of the forests, the day to day business of overseeing such a settlement of Elves alongside men occupying his time. The overwhelming task of it all wore heavy on the Elf, and he was eager to see his friends again - namely Gimli. The odd paring of Elf and Dwarf had been parted for nearly two years, one not casting their gaze upon the other since their return from exploring the Glittering Caves.

Faramir could much understand the Elf's tedium with paperwork, for his own responsibilities were as repetitive, and lacking in excitement. Budgets, taxes and government appointments were his daily schedule. His only reprieve was that of his life's love, his wife Éowyn and his son. She had graciously bowed out of the day's events, as she was close to delivery with their second child and did not want to risk the journey. His first son had grown weed-like and kept the palace nurses busy from dawn to dusk. Faramir's heart desired to be with his family, and not leading this small party in the opposing direction - but duty and familial loyalty begged his attendance for the day's festivities.

Of all the topics of conversation, it seemed to Faramir the two danced around the reason why they traveled to the Gondorian city. Faramir wasn't sure if the avoidance was due to the Elf's preoccupation with his own troubles, or Faramir's insecurity in speaking of the dead. For the subject of the day's events was Boromir, Faramir's brother, now dead six years. Killed by orcs in the war of the Ring.

King Elessar had declared today a day to remember those lost in that war, and he had proclaimed a monument be erected in Boromir's memory. Faramir was still unsure what his feelings were on the matter. Éowyn had cautioned her husband on the thoughts and opinions of others as to Boromir's part and place of the heroic Fellowship.

"There are many that see him as a hero." She had said this with a stroke of her soft fingers against his cheek. "And there are those that do not."

"Aye," he had answered. "And no man knows my mind. I will keep my thoughts to myself."

But in truth, the Prince was having a difficult time sorting his sibling resentments toward his brother, for the thoughts of his childhood burned brightest in his mind. When thoughts strayed to past days, he became a child again, ignored and forgotten as Denethor guided his brother in the defense of Gondor. The light grew brighter on Boromir, as it faded and dimmed upon the younger child.

"Faramir."

With a shake of his head to clear away these pervading thoughts, the Steward turned to his right. Legolas, dressed in a regal tunic of off-white silk set beneath a white jerkin, looked more the part of the prince he was, now Elven Lord. His flaxen hair gleamed nearly white beneath the early-morning sun. Braided elegantly back from his face, Faramir had never noted its length until now as it spread like a second cloak over the Elf Lord's shoulder and brushed the white hide of Arod's bare back. "Yes Legolas?"

"I have asked you three times about your children - and each time you have merely rewarded me with a nod." A smile broke the Elf's fair face. "Should I receive this as a yes that they fair fine, or that they fair at all?"

"Oh," Faramir shook his head and returned Legolas' smile. "I do apologize, friend. My thoughts are full and create much noise this morn."

"Then perhaps if you share them, I can aid in their quiet?"

The Prince of Ithilien, Steward of Gondor, looked sideways at his friend - often they had spoken of their individual experiences during the war of the Ring. And always Legolas had spoken not at all of Boromir - save of his death, which the Elf regarded as heroic, and quite tragic. Never had Faramir wanted to know the Elf's heart as deeply as he did at this moment.

But before he could speak, the Elf gave a slow nod, his eyes narrowing. "You do not need to tell me. I can see it on your face. You think of Boromir today, and the events Elessar and Arwen have planned." Legolas gave a deep sigh. "I too worry about the tedium of the rituals mortal men use in their rememberings - and I will be eager to depart the ceremony before it begins. I can only fathom a guess at what your role, as brother, will be."

Faramir started to tell Legolas that these were not his thoughts. But now that they had been voiced, the Prince did find the thought of an endless day spent through ritual and appearance distressing. He moaned softly and shook his head. "No - not quite are these my thoughts, and please remind me later to square against you for bringing them to my attention. My true thoughts..." he paused and looked down at his black, gloved hands as they held the reins of his mount. He was unsure how to proceed, though from his experience with the Elven Lord, blunt honesty was usually best. Legolas Greenleaf did not like games.

"I am here, Faramir."

"My brother." He fixed the Elf with a hard gaze as if he believed he could force truth from the Elf's lips. "What - what is your heart's opinion of him? The Company's? Though I hear the praises sung - most by Meriadoc and Peregrin - I cannot wonder at the few approvals given by you, Gimli and Aragorn. Sam was not halting in his description of my brother's madness in the end. I know that he tried to take the ring from Frodo - and that in and of itself - led to the parting of the Nine. I cannot wonder at times that if Boromir had not succumbed so quickly - had been so weak - would he still live? Or would the Fellowship have disbanded?"

"Why have you these thoughts?" Legolas shook his head. "The past is that - the past. The splitting of the Company was spoken of many times, mostly with Aragorn and Boromir's talk of defending Minas Tirith. But this was before Moria." The Elf visibly shuddered with the memory of that dark place. "In Moria, when it was believed we had lost the Grey Pilgrim, all hope seemed vanished, and the bonds between us were tested. The final break of the Company was no single person's fault. For the Uruk-Hai were there whether the Ring called to the brave Gondorian or not." The Elf's eyes flashed in the morning sun, his dark brow furrowed. "You call him weak. Nay Boromir was not - not when the Ring is spoken of. For all who were near it were touched by it, some more than others. We shall all bear its taint to our ending days."

Faramir opened his mouth to speak, but Legolas' expression stayed him. The Elf cast his gaze down as the party plodded on, and the Prince grew aware of the ears of the guard, all focused upon the Elf's words. "As for his death - I cannot say. I was not there when the foul Uruk-Hai's arrows found their marks. Only Pippin, Merry and Aragorn can give you true words for how he died."

"I know that Aragorn heard his last words - and he has since told me what was said." Faramir had heard the stories dozens of times - and yet, something in the way the Elf told it, awoke a new understanding. "You say that the break occurred before?"

"Much so. The Lady of the Wood warned us of it, after we ran to the borders of Lothlorien."

Faramir nodded slowly, a small measure of relief washing over him. The Elf did not blame Boromir, as Faramir had always assumed. "But you hold no anger toward Boromir? For trying to take the Ring?"

"No - I do not. I hold only admiration, that in the end, he was able to pull himself from the depths of that shadow and fight bravely when he was needed." Legolas frowned at Faramir. "Do you doubt the memorial the King grants your brother this day? Nay do not look away, Faramir," the Elven Lord pulled his mount to a stop. The small party followed in his guidance.

The Prince of Ithilien stopped his own horse, but he did not look at the Elf. He felt ashamed, knowing Legolas had now sensed his thoughts, knew his fears. It was no use keeping secrets from the Elf. Or his men, for he sensed their ears upon him as well. It did not bode well for their loyalties to he or the King if their Prince believed the day's honors were false in their giving.

Legolas captured and held Faramir's gaze. The Elf's right eyebrow arched high and a sly smile played on his lips. "Faramir, tell your men to wait here, then come with me."

The Elf prodded Arod and the mighty white stead galloped down the road to the edges of the forest bordering Minas Tirith. Faramir turned to his Captain and gave the order to remain. He could see the disapproval in the stout man's eye, but the Prince would not be disobeyed. With a small clicking noise, Faramir kicked his own horse into motion and followed the Elf.

The path through the trees was clear and well traveled, but Legolas led the Gondorian off in a smaller, less used direction. The trees around them grew thicker. Branches knotted and twisted about one another and the variation of colors was extraordinary to Faramir. Often he had walked in the wood near his own home, but there was a still-ness to these woods that eased into his very bones. A sense of serenity came over him, wrestling the weight from his shoulders; a burden he did not realize he carried. He wondered if the quiet serenity of this forest existed because it had not endured the long years of torture beneath Sauron's dark magic, as Ithilien had.

Once hidden from the view of the soldiers, Legolas gracefully dismounted. Faramir looked about him as he slid from his horse. The Elf's white steed grazed quietly as the Elven Lord moved between two trees. He looked up at each of them, a soft smile on his lips. Reaching a hand out to each, he closed his eyes and released a soft hum, nearly a sigh. Faramir watched in surprise as the wood seemed to brighten and the trees swayed with the melody. The Prince knew this child of Ilûvatar was communing with the trees - it was the way of his people, but Faramir had never seen this tenderness in Legolas before.

As the tune of the hum changed, so did the sway of the trees. The air around them quieted further, and the chirp of the bird and hum of the bee grew poignant and sharp. Legolas ended his tune and looked directly at Faramir. "Are you relaxed? You may speak here - freely. For the trees do not tell secrets."

Faramir nodded. "I - I am amazed."

Legolas crossed his arms over his chest. "And I am disappointed. Please, tell me what troubles you. Is it what you perceive as Boromir's fall? His subsequent defense of our Fellowship upon Parth Galen at Amon Hen?" The Elf's eyes narrowed again. "Or is this dark mood brought on by things I cannot know?"

"It is nothing, Legolas. We should really be getting into the city." Faramir did not like the turn of subject, for it forced him to consider thoughts he believed deserved no attention. He was not ready to discuss his private thoughts with the Elf. Yet when he turned to leave, he found the path invisible. He did not see their horses. He could no longer see the spires of the city. He turned back to the Elf.

Legolas was smiling. "We have time."

"You're doing this," Faramir pointed at where the absent path should have been. "You and the trees." But he couldn't suppress a small laugh. "Oh, my friend. My heart is so heavy. I should be angered with you, but I cannot be."

Legolas gestured for him to sit beside him on a fallen log. The Elf waited patiently.

Faramir did not sit, but instead found comfort in a small pace before Legolas. He kept his gaze on the trees as he spoke. "My childhood was not a pleasant one - in that I was in constant competition with my brother. It was not all Boromir's fault, Legolas. My father was not a patient and caring man, and he demanded much from the both of us." Faramir let the words spill forth, afraid he would stop too soon and not be able to continue when his mind realized he was confessing. "And always I believed my father favored my brother more. Of this I have confirmation, and so I believed my brother good. For if my father believed him the better, then I was flawed."

The Elf started to speak, but Faramir looked beseechingly into his blue eyes and Legolas became silent. "I served my time with the Rangers - did as I was told, and always my father's favor rested with Boromir. When he was sent to Rivendell - and I discovered he had gone with the Fellowship, I felt again cheated - that I had been denied a great adventure. And that somehow," he gave a deep sigh. "Somehow, my father would mark him as hero and erect a great monument in his name for all Gondorians in the destruction of the Dark Lord. Now I find the King has done such a thing."

Legolas opened his mouth, Faramir put up his hand to silence the Elf again. But the Elven Lord would not be swayed. "Please tell me you do not believe these things still. You know and realize now that your father fell under the palantir's spell - he was laid waste to despair and driven mad."

"But his madness was not always present." Faramir stopped his pacing, his shoulders lowered in defeat. "And during lucid times, his opinions of us did not change."

"Nay - perhaps not. But these thoughts of being less a hero than your brother are folly."

When Faramir would look away, the Elf sprang from the log and placed his hands on the Prince's shoulders and pulled him round till he stared into Legolas' face, now expressive with concern. A frown creased his brow. "Frodo and Sam have oft spoken of your heroic disobedience. For where Boromir had given over to the Ring's power, you stood fast. You recognized the ring's danger and you allowed the hobbits passage. Do not think this a weakness. But most important, do not hold harsh thoughts against Boromir. For I was with him unto Amon Hen - and it was not always the ring that his thoughts rested on - nay not for personal gain did he wish to possess it. Boromir thought only of saving the White Tower from evil." His frown softened. "Faramir - do not allow the jealousies of childish thoughts to cloud the truth of things. Please do not compare Elessar's decisions to those you believed your father would have."

Faramir could only stare at the Elf. So deep were his words, and so did they cut to the very problem the Prince had with this day. He had resented the attention Boromir had garnered from their father, though he had never hated his brother. Faramir had had nothing but love and admiration. But Legolas was right - he had tarnished this very action with thoughts he'd entertained as a child. Boromir, son of Gondor, deserved to be remembered for the life he sacrificed for the safety of the city.

Faramir looked away from the intensity of the Elf's blue eyes. He focused on the grass at his booted feet, at a small ant that moved over a mushroom. And he tried to recall something Elessar had said once. Something Boromir had spoken.

"...have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?" Legolas said in a voice barely above a whisper, pulling the very words Faramir needed to hear. "One day, our paths will lead us there, and the Tower Guard shall take up the call -"

Faramir looked up at Legolas and took up the quote, "...for the Lords of Gondor have returned."

The Elf nodded. "A hero is not known by their deeds, but by their greatness, their sacrifices. Their ability to put others before them. Your brother was a hero, Faramir. And he will be remembered as one of the Nine, forever from this day.You, my friend, have much still to do."

The sun that filtered through the fluttering canopy of leaves overhead glistened in the tears that rimmed Faramir's eyes. Before anyone else, even his wife, Faramir would not dare cry. But through their time together in Ithilien, he had grown to know there was no other race in Middle-Earth that understood the precious qualities of emotions expressed. Legolas grasped his hand and the two embraced.

"Sir?" came a tentative voice from the wood.

"Oh," Legolas said and pulled away from Faramir. The Prince thought he saw the Elf wipe a tear from his own eye, but he did not comment on it. "I should ask the trees to reveal us."

Within a half hour the small company was once again on the road to Minas Tirith. And as the White Tower loomed high above the city, Faramir looked at Legolas, then up at the spiral penacle. He felt relieved, lifted above the clouds, and a note of pride shown through as he thought of his brother.

"The sons of Gondor have returned, Boromir. And they remember you. Always."

THE END