This story fits into my 'To have a friend' series. It is just a silly little story… Literally written just to rid myself of the dreaded writers block. I think it was Susan W who said she would like to hear more about Faramir singing… here you go.
I think I might write another one in that series. Would anyone like that?
I own nothing- the song I heard from a Charlotte Church CD, I don't know who owns it. Not me.. bummer.
Teach Us to Sing
Aragorn frowned at the piece of paper in his hands.
He hated this part of being King. Everyone told him their problems…
What did he care if the harvest fest had a green color scheme or brown, or gold, or…
"Give it to me." Aragorn looked up from his desk, which was the size of a small city, and covered in papers, over to Faramir's desk, which was the size of a large town, with neat stacks of papers around the edges.
"The autumn fest. I will deal with it." Faramir said again.
"I'll do it!"
"My lord, you hate it, and I truly do not care, so give it up!"
"I will do it!"
"Do not make me stand up and walk over there! I will not be a happy steward- and the King likes having Happy Stewards, doesn't he?" Faramir growled.
Aragorn relinquished the paper with a sigh, and then watched as the younger man bent over it, his fingers dashing off the reply and then with a quick push the paper went over the desk and into a basket in front of it. Aragorn's eyes widened, and Faramir grinned.
"Years of practice, sir. Learn from the masters!" He said, and went back to army slips, and the king went back to another tax alleviance petition.
His ears pricked suddenly, and he looked over at Faramir without raising his head at all.
Faramir was… humming?
He had often heard about the court that Faramir could sing, but he had never heard him do so, and to the best of his knowledge, he had not sung since the war.
"When this war is over, we will all enlist again…" Faramir sang softly, so softly Aragorn knew he didn't know he was doing it. It was just a little ditty that soldiers sang on long marches, but still!
"When this war is over, we will all enlist again..."
"Faramir?" Faramir's head snapped up, and he blushed.
"Sire?"
"You were singing!" Aragorn said, grinning from ear to ear.
"Yes sir." Faramir sighed, looking down at his pen. "Sorry if I disturbed you."
"Please, sing me something? I fear I am getting a headache, and I really would like something else to think about than Lossarnach wanting a tax break!" Aragorn lied, did his best puppy eyes, and Faramir huffed in annoyance, blushing even worse.
"I do not sing." He said quietly.
"Yes you do, I just heard you and you have a good voice!" Aragorn corrected him, and Faramir looked at him chillingly.
"I do not sing." he insisted, and Aragorn sighed.
"Why not? You sound wonderful! Imrahil and Lothiriel and even Gandalf have told me what a good voice you have!"
"I don't." Faramir said, "Sing."
"Why not? I want you to!"
"I… Do… Not… Sing!" Faramir said, very slowly.
"Why not?"
"Because."
"Why?"
"Do you never tire of asking me that?" Faramir said, exasperated.
"No. Why?"
"Why what?"
"Won't you sing?"
"Will you stop?" Aragorn grinned. He was an inch from getting his way. When all else fails, whine!
"Why?"
"Why do you always have to ask me why?" Faramir whimpered miserably. "I just don't want to!"
"Because it is the only way you will let me help you. If you say no, there is usually a reason. So, I ask, so that I know if someone else were to ask you the same question, what to do, you know?"
"No one else ever asks." Faramir said, continuing to write.
"Faramir, stop!"
He did, but kept his eyes on the paper, biting his lips nervously.
"I am going to ask you one more time, as your friend. The next time it will be as your King."
Faramir raised his head, and to Aragorn's surprise a jolt of anger went through his eyes.
"My king will learn nothing." He snapped, but then relaxed a little and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Come, let us take Troll out to water the bushes and I will tell you."
A few moments later they were in the King's gardens, and Troll was happily killing the flowers and digging about.
"It is true, what I said. No one else ever asks me to sing. Nobody ever has asked me why, because they do not care, or, like my uncle, do not wish to intrude. However, you do want to know, and you don't really care if you intrude." Faramir sighed. "Which perhaps is why you are so good for me."
"I sing harmony." Faramir said, looking at his boots. "Usually. I mean, I can sing melody, but I don't. Boromir always led in songs, and I was harmony to his melody." He absently tossed a stick for the drooling Troll who ran after it like a mad beast, ears waving, tail held high, slobber going everywhere. "And you know that a good harmony is never heard, but is there and it is felt. I was a good harmony; a very good harmony- you could not tell my voice from his- and now that he is gone, I can not sing, though I wish to sometimes. I might even start, but my voice is so empty… I don't know."
Aragorn stared at him. Of all the tales, this was the one he had least expected. He had expected something like 'my father told me not to, so I do not'; not 'he is gone and I have not the heart any longer.' "But even now, when I am preoccupied, I sing or hum a little bit." He shrugged, "Force of habit."
"Faramir, I would love to hear you sing, just once." Aragorn had no idea why he was pressuring him so, but somehow he knew if he could get him to sing, then the healing of his heart would be greatly advanced.
The Steward smiled at him, folding his hands neatly before him, as was his habit.
"Someday."
--------------------------
The autumn fest was in full swing, plenty of good ale and wine and foods from all over Gondor. The lords and ladies were dressed up almost ridiculously, thought Aragorn, and then smiled.
Some sense at last! Faramir and Eowyn had walked in with their family, and behind them was Imrahil, who always looked the same, on the battle field or off. Aragorn joked that no one dared cut him for fear of soiling the beautiful silver and blue uniform of the Dol Amroth Knights.
The evening went on, much as planned, until…
"Lord Faramir won't you sing for us?" A young woman of the south of Gondor smiled coyly, even as she spoke loud enough for all to hear, and the court nodded. A song would be nice! Faramir looked around, and Aragorn saw the panic in his eyes.
"I beg pardon, but I do not sing." Faramir said mildly.
"Nonsense, my sister told me you have a phenomenal voice!" the woman said. "Do sing for us, don't be shy!"
"Damn her." Imrahil muttered to Aragorn behind his hand.
"Why?" Aragorn knew, but he wanted Imrahil to tell him, just in case Imrahil had something new to add.
"She is one of the most politically active women I know; her husband is her sock puppet. She wants to make Faramir look unstable, and then nudge him out of the picture. You would not even note, but one morning you would wake up and Faramir would not be there."
"How can she do that by asking him to sing?" Aragorn asked, this time really wondering. He knew that Faramir did not sing, and would not sing, but still!
"He has never sung alone that I'm aware of, at least not before so many people. Boromir always sang with him- he does have a good voice, but he's harmony. So, if he keeps refusing, and she keeps bothering, he will become desperate, and look unstable and then from there..."
The woman was pestering him, and now others had gotten in on it, and Aragorn sighed.
"If it doesn't stop, I will stop it." Aragorn said, but then Faramir raised his hands.
"One song." He said, looking straight at the lady. "No more."
"Agreed. But you must sing before all of us, it would not do not to be able to see you!"
Faramir dipped his head in response and walked to the front of the room.
"Attention!" The woman called, and all heads turned. "I have asked lord Faramir to grant us a song!"
"That would be nice." One of the younger lords sighed. "So long as it isn't me!"
Faramir gritted his teeth, and looked out over the sea of faces, and his eyes found Aragorn's. His friends eyes were full of pity, and he mouthed 'Want help?' Faramir shook his head ever so slightly.
It had to be done.
His mind was blank. He could not remember the title, much less the words to a single song.
Until he heard her titter, a whisper meant for his ears only; 'not so big without your brother, then?' and then anger fired his veins, and he knew what it was he had to sing-
And he had to sing it for Boromir. His mind went back…
"Look at all of this- carnage is a good word." Boromir sighed, staring at all the dead neatly arranged for burial.
He and Faramir had been working all day, burning the orcs and burying their own. This was the last batch, and for that he was glad.
"Why?" Faramir asked, looking at him tiredly. "Why are we doing this?"
"You know why." Boromir said, stopping to lean on his spade.
"No, I mean, why are THEY doing this? Why are they willing to die like this?"
"For Gondor." Boromir said simply, and began to shovel the dirt back over the bodies.
Later that night, Faramir heard his tent flap open, and he grasped his knife.
"Peace, brother, it is I." Boromir whispered, and Faramir relaxed.
"What is it?"
"You're the writer in the family."
"So?"
"Here." A scrap of paper was put into his hand. "Write this. Make it what it is. Make it what it should be. And someday, put it to music and sing it for me when I'm gone."
"Boromir, you know I can not sing without you!"
"Someday you will have to. Sing this, and know that I will be with you then, even from far away."
"Boromir, I can't!"
"Promise me, Faramir. Promise me you will sing even when I am gone." His voice had been so vehement… desperate.
"I promise."
"Good night, little brother. Remember it. Sing for me when I'm gone, please? That way I can still be with you."
"I have said that I will, Boromir." Faramir said, and Boromir was gone as swiftly as he had come, leaving a very confused younger brother.
He had forgotten. He had grieved for so long he had forgotten who it was he was grieving for.
Boromir. He would sing for Boromir, so he could remember more than the body in the boat, he could remember the laughter, the tears, the hugs, the wrestling matches and teasing, and his over all larger than life brother. The soldier who was so much more than a soldier.
Faramir closed his eyes, and he was again in the tent, looking at the dirty scrap of paper, and the melody was running through him, and he knew what it said, and he knew what it was.
He wanted Boromir with him did he? All he had to do was sing, to sing as Boromir had taught him to do- with all of his heart and soul.
"I vow to thee, my country, all earthly things above." His voice went through the room clear and pure and strong.
There was a hush.
"Entire, whole, and perfect, the service of my love." Aragorn smiled. Ah, he had a fine tenor voice, cultured and well trained.
"The love that asks no questions;"
'Since you are robbed of Boromir, I shall do what I can in his stead. Goodbye, Father.'
"The love that stands the test."
'So I come upon you in the wild, a Halfling, alone, with a hundred men at my call. I could take the One Ring for myself…'
"That lays upon the altar the dearest and the best;"
'Remember this day, little brother…'
The love that never falters;
"Let them go."
"The love that pays the price."
'Faramir, you know the laws of this country- of your father! Your life will be forfeit!'
"The love that makes undaunted a final sacrifice."
'Then it is forfeit.'
There was silence in the hall, but as Faramir looked around he saw the men he had fought with, the other captains' and their eyes were full. Then they were on their feet, applauding.
Eowyn was openly weeping.
He bowed and walked back to his seat by the King ignoring the clamor.
"Did you write that? It was beautiful."
"No, sir, Boromir wrote it for me, to remind me what I was fighting for." And then he smiled. "And what I was singing for."
"Why?" Aragorn asked, pulling his friend into a hug. "What was it you sing for?"
"Boromir." Faramir whispered. "For Boromir." In his heart, Boromir whispered;
"Sing for me when I am gone and I will be with you."