A/N: Here you go the second chapter. I'm sorry it took me so long to update it. But right now I'm writing my bachelor's thesis and I have discovered that Lord of the rings fan fiction is much harder to write than I thought. So to remind you this story is book and movie based.

Disclaimer: I don't own Middle-Earth and the characters in it; they all belong to J. R. R Tolkien

Maradon

It was two hours past sunrise. Strange, usually he woke up with the sun. He had slept well and that already was unusual, because he hadn't had decent night sleep since his mother's death.

He sighted. It was too early from dark thoughts, especially in the place like Rivendell.

His stomach rumbled, demanding food. Faramir hoped that the time for breakfast was soon, but before that he had to do something and he was already late. He dressed himself and grabbed two apples from the tray from his room.

The day had already started at Rivendell: he could hear Lord Erestors instructions from the dinning room and Lord Glorfindels teasing remarks towards proper and serious seneschal of Imladris. Faramir had hard time not to grin, it reminded him so much of him and Boromir when their father wasn't near.

Faramir felt fallen leaves beneath his feet when he neared the stables. Autumn was his favourite time of the year, even when everything was dying; he found beauty in the colours and peace in the wind that was growing stronger and colder everyday. When he neared the fence, what rounded the stable, he heard a whine. Menenor had heard him approaching and had come out of his stall.

"How are you, my friend, on this fine morning?"

He didn't get a joyful nicker from his horse, but affronted whine. Menenor's ears where led back and his eyes full of pain.

"I'm sorry, Menenor, that I'm late, but I hadn't slept so well in years." He scratched the horse behind the ear. Menenor's ears turned forward, his nose found its way to Faramir's pocket.

Faramir held back his smile, "So for forgiveness you want that apple in my pocket?"

Menenor snorted and nudged Faramir's shoulder at that Faramir laughed out loud.

"Here you go," he dug out one of the apples he had taken with him, "Can I now see your leg?" Menenor munched on his apple and turned so that Faramir could see his injured leg.

"You are heeling well, my friend. Soon we shall ride as free and as wild as the children we once were."

"I think your horse has never seen you as a child, Lord Faramir." Faramir raised his eyes from Menenor's leg. Glorfindel had come to the stables and Faramir hadn't heard him nearing.

"Good morning, Lord Glorfindel, it's just a sentence my brother likes to say, but he says it differently."

"Morning Lord Faramir. How would you brother say it then?" the elf asked.

Faramir smiled remembering his older brother and his cocky ways, "Little brother, soon the doom that have been shadowed our doorstep will be vanquished and we will ride on Ithilien as free and as wild as the children we once were."

"Your brother seems to be like a person worth meeting one day."

"You would have almost met him; he was the one, who should have been here, not me. And please don't call me lord; people close to me call me Faramir. I'm no lord anymore. An exiled person doesn't have the comfort to be a lord."

"So the story is true what Erestor told me. You really can't go back to Minas Tirith or you shall lose your life." Glorfindel patted Menenors nose.

"Yes that is true. That is my father's law, going against his orders means a treason and punishment will be death or exile. There is no exception to his sons. My life will be over when he finds me wandering in the streets of Minas Tirith."

"Your father rules rough-hand."

"And with a principle, but his mind and heart are clouded by shadow and doubt. He has forgotten that people of Gondor look up to him. His weakness is affecting them. Gondor is growing weaker."

"The world is on the edge of a war. The shadow is trying to find its way to the hearts and minds of the best and strongest of the Middle-Earth." Glorfindel sighed. He had seen this before.

Faramir found little comfort in that sentence. He had understood already in early age that even the strongest and the best people weren't always strong enough to stand up to dark shadows.

He's thoughts were interrupted by the hoof steps. He turned and his mouth fell open. A beautiful white horse came towards them.

Glorfindel stepped beside him, "This is Asfaloth, my trusted steed."

"He is gorgeous, Lord Glorfindel."

"Yes he is, but there is no lord, people close to me call me Glorfindel."

"Glorfindel," Faramir bowed with respect.

They worked with their horses in silence; the world was peace itself for them. There were no predicting dreams, nazguls couldn't enter into the borders of Rivendell and the council was far away from their thoughts.

Glorfindel looked up to sky, "Soon it is time for breakfast, we should go and get ready. It is best if we are not late or Erestor won't be pleased with us."

Faramir patted Menenor's back one last time and gave him the other apple, "You mean he won't be pleased with you?"

"You learn fast, son of Denethor." Faramir only grinned at that and let Glorfindel show the way to the house.

When Faramir stepped into the dinning hall there were only three places empty. An elf leaded him to a place between two other empty chairs. He looked around the table. Elrond sat in the head of the table, he looked still young but something had changed over the night; he seemed more tired. It was like all the worlds troubles were on his shoulders. On his left sat Erestor and on his right sat Glorfindel. All three were in deep discussion. Next to Glorfindel sat two elves dark-haired but faces so similar that you couldn't make any different between them. They must be Elrond twins Eledan and Elrohir, two fierce warriors and pranksters. Maybe he should tell them that Mithrandir was still angry at them for the time they but his beard on fire. But where was the fun in that.

Beside them sat Mithrandir, his old friend and teacher. Even, if Mithrandir himself said that he hadn't been good a teacher. Not spending enough time in Minas Tirith. And every time he was there he hadn't had the time to teach and share all of his knowledge with the young son of Steward. He only guided young Faramir into the right direction and everything else was Faramir's own doing.

Beside Mithrandir sat three Halflings. First was young, dark-haired but seemed like he just had recovered from a very bad illness. Next to him was an older one, his hair were grey and face wrinkled but from his eyes shone youthfulness and wish for adventure. Beside the old one sat another young Halfling; his hair was ginger and face full of happiness. Beside the empty seat to his right sat old dwarf. Years had worn a hard path on his face. Next to him sat a younger dwarf. From just glancing at them you could see that they were father and son, younger one didn't have the deep lines on his face but they will come in time.

Then he saw the man he had seen last night: he sat beside the young dwarf and an elf – who was tall and young with blond hair, his hands seemed strong like he knew how to handle both sword and bow. And again seeing the man he felt the familiarity, like he had met the man before, and yet he knew that had never happened. Suddenly there was meal on his plate. He had been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn't seen when his two tablemates had joined the table. They where two Halflings, both young ones, they talked to the Halflings across the table.

Faramir was on his second bite when the Halfling on his left spoke, "Hello, I'm Peregrin Took."

"And I'm Meriadoc Brandybuck." The Halfling on his right quipped.

"But our friends call us Pippin…"

"…and Merry,"

"Nice to meet you, I'm Faramir son of Denethor."

"No nickname?" the one who was called Pippin ask.

"Pippin," Merry scolded.

Faramir only laughed, "It's all right. No, I don't have a nickname. If you don't count that my older brother called me Fara in my childhood."

"No that's not it."

"I have to agree with Pippin, Fara is not good enough nickname for you."

"Then let's make a deal, I call you Merry and Pippin and you can call me Faramir, until you think out a better one for me."

"Deal!" said both Halflings. They ate in silence, when suddenly Pippin asked, "You were the man who arrived last evening."

"We were on the balcony, we saw you coming accompanied by Glorfindel." Merry joined with Pippin.

"Yes, it was me."

"From which place of Middle-Earth are you, I and Pippin are from Shire."

"I have heard of that place, but never been there. I'm from Gondor one of the free lands of men."

"One of the free lands of men?" Pippin asked with interest.

"Yes, there is Gondor, my home. Once it was a Kingdom, one of the mightiest of them all, but line of kings went hiding from the dark lord and Gondor is now ruled by a steward. Then there is kingdom of Rohan, the country of the horse masters."

"Horse masters?" Merry's ears perked up.

"Yes, people of Rohan have lived all their lives with horses. They are a part of the Rohhimirs like pipe weed and eating is part of you. Then there is the Anor, once a sister kingdom to Gondor. Your home Shire is one part of Anor but it lost her king as Gondor did."

"But if the Gondor line of Kings will come out of the hiding, then Anor will have its king also?"

"Maybe, time can only tell." Faramir answered with sight.

After the breakfast, when Faramir walked back to his room, he thought that he hadn't had such enjoyable tablemates in a long time. But he couldn't understand how one could eat so much. If he would have eaten so much he wouldn't definitely have grown only in height.

The Halfling had tried to tell him something about second-breakfast and Luncheons. But Faramir couldn't apprehend all those eating times.

He had read two pages of the book, when the gong of Elrond council rang. He was half through the corridor to the council when he saw Mithrandir and the older and dark haired young Halfling,

"Mithrandir."

"Faramir, how to you like Imladris?"

"Imladris is as safe and peaceful place as you told me."

"Good, good. Faramir, I'd like you to meet Bilbo and Frodo Baggins."

"It's nice to meet you, Masters Bilbo and Frodo Baggins, I have heard so much about you from Mithrandir."

Before Bilbo or Frodo could answer him someone pumped into his shoulder.

"I apologize; I was standing in your way." Faramir turned to the person behind him. There stood an elf.

"There are no apologizes needed." But you could feel an edge in that sentence.

"Oh, Legolas, I'll like you to meet Faramir son of Denethor from Gondor, and Faramir this is Legolas Greenleaf from Mirkwood."

"It's an honour to meet you Lord Faramir." But he edge was still there, like he wasn't very happy over the introduction.

"The honour is mine, Prince Legolas."

"How did you know my position?"

"Not all the men are ignorant of businesses of the other races, prince Legolas." Faramir said and walked away.

"You handled that well, Faramir." Mithrandir said when he reached him.

"Well I had a good teacher." Faramir quipped.

"What was that all about?" Bilbo asked.

"The Father of Legolas is Thranduil, he doesn't like Men, and he accuses them of being weak. He fought beside the men in the last Great War. But after Sauron was defeated he returned to his home to Greenwood. It was conquered by spiders and he blames the men for that. And the reason why, you shall find out soon."

"So Legolas has been influenced by his father's beliefs?" Frodo looked over his shoulder where Legolas was walking with Erestor.

"No, but Legolas don't trust men, especially Gondors men. There is only one man who Legolas fully trusts. You know that man well."

Faramir wanted to ask, who that man was. Before he could, they reached to the balcony and were showed to take their places on the different seats.