Awww! Thank you so much for your kind reviews, they make me light up! And then my family wonders what's wrong and whether they should call for the 'Men in White Coats'... And I'm sorry it's took me so long to update; college homework over half-term, a queue for the computer etc...
Ithil-valon: It doesn't matter how long it takes you to review, it doesn't matter if you review at all! All that matters is the fact that you helped me settle into and kept my hopes up! Hannon le!
dancingkatz: Argh! I knew I'd forgotten something! Never mind, Faramir beats himself up about it in this chapter!
Mark Solo: Couldn't quite make any sense of your review but I thank you for it anyway; I'm sure you meant well.
Syntyche: I don't like coffee, so I have to make do with a really nasty sounding alarm that's on the other side of my room so I HAVE to get up out of bed to turn the thing off! If you can suggest a better title for this story, I'd be happy to consider changing it so that it sounds better; all consturctive critisism is welcome!
Susan W: The idea for this story came fromt he interview with David Wenham on the 'Return of the King' PS2 game, where he tells everybody that they should unlock the charcter of Faramir so that they can see how he would have reacted if he had been in the Fellowship instead of Boromir. It sounded liek a good idea for a story, and here it is!
Awen1923: So am I, I have no idea where this is going right now!
Time and Fate: If you believe in the story I'll try and make it as 'totally and completely awesome' as I possibly can!
Celebne: I will keep on writing, though I'm not sure how often I can update seeing as my college work is getting heavier and harder...
Sarahbarr17: Aww! Hugs to you too! I love hugs! Hugs everybody
And last but not least!
Evendim: I agree, I am much more at home in third person, I just find it harder to write sometimes! And I'm glad people like my Denethor; I don't like to portray anyone as an evil person unless they deserve it, like Saruman for example, because he was evil in the books anyway. I think Denethor is just... misguided... And hugs for you! H!
Faramir's Chance
Chapter Two: Elves!
Faramir stood huddled in his cloak under a tall oak tree, its mighty branches sheltering both him and Elmoth from the rain that was lashing down, saturating everything it touched. It was for this reason that Faramir was loathe to sit on the ground and risk getting his bottom soaked. Plus Elmoth was tired and cranky; Faramir had to rest him before setting off again and so a short break had been in order. Who wanted to travel in such despicable conditions anyway?
The man sighed, startling Elmoth, who nickered nervously. Neither man nor beast was quite used to the silence of travelling alone just yet; the refuge of Henneth Annûn wasn't exactly many people's idea of privacy… Faramir gently stroked the gelding's muzzle, whispering words of comfort, both for the horse and himself.
He should have said goodbye to Boromir; it just didn't sit right with his conscience, riding away from Osgiliath without seeing his beloved big brother one last time to make sure he was going to be alright. Faramir still couldn't wipe the memory of that horrifying wound sliced into his brother's side… He shook himself; he was being stupid. Father would have gotten Boromir to the safety of Minas Tirith as soon as Faramir had left them; only the well being of Gondor came before that of the Heir of the Steward. Faramir reached under his cloak and brought out an apple, pulled from a tree a couple of days back; he began eating the fruit, mulling over the situation in Gondor at this moment.
Denethor was Faramir's father, yes, but there were times when Faramir was sure that the stress of running the country in the King's absence was getting to his father. He just didn't seem in his right mind at times, and at others, he was far too perceptive for Faramir's liking.
Like when Faramir had asked permission to perform this mission instead of Boromir, Denethor had immediately seen through his youngest's plan. Yes, Faramir frowned, he had wanted to make his father proud of him; Denethor always gave Boromir the better part of his affections, always held him in far greater esteem that Faramir himself, even though Faramir was the one risking his life daily in the forests of Ithilien-
No. That was unfair, Faramir admitted, trying to rein in his emotions. Boromir may not have to spend days at a time sneaking around in the cold, wet undergrowth, but he did command the armies of Gondor and so was expected to join in battle alongside his soldiers. Faramir took another bite of his apple and though happy thoughts; he was determined not to fall into a depression on this journey, and then he smiled, suddenly remembering that he was going to see the Elves, and in Imladris no less! He'd wanted to meet Elves ever since he was a small child, wanted to learn their language, experience their way of life, read their history…
Only the fact that he was a thirty-five year old man stopped Faramir from jumping up and down in excitement; that and the fact that Elmoth would probably bolt, leaving him stranded here at Tharbad. He was planning on following the river Bruinen north-east to the Elven Sanctuary and without a horse, that could take a while…
Faramir laughed quietly, imagining himself trying to trudge through the Nîn-in-Eilph in the rain. Elmoth nickered again and moved to nuzzle Faramir's beard-roughened cheek; Faramir chuckled and pushed the gelding firmly away, his spirits now lifted.
"We should be moving, boy," he sighed, giving the rest of the apple to the hungry animal; Elmoth munched the fruit greedily, his ears laid back happily and Faramir took hold of the reins and led him out into the rain. The horse snorted and tried to back under the tree again, where it was dry at least. Faramir tugged the gelding out from under the tree and mounted the reluctant animal; he'd been travelling for two and a half months and was tired. He didn't want to drag this out any longer than he had to.
Faramir patted Elmoth's neck comfortingly and turned him to face upstream, gently squeezing his sides; Faramir could feel the horse take a deep breath before starting off. He pulled his hood up further, adjusted the way his quiver was resting on his shoulder and settled down for another long ride.
Two weeks later…
"Elladan, nad no ennas," -Elladan, there's something out there- a tall brown Elf perched on a branch in an elm tree whispered just loud enough for his brother a couple of trees back to hear; Elladan walked across the branches to his twin's side.
"Man cenich?" -What do you see?- he asked, trying to find what had alerted Elrohir; the other Elf raised his hand for silence and pointed through the leaves.
"Tiro," -Look-
A man, cloaked and hooded, rode upon a chestnut horse on the trail ahead of them, sword at his side, quiver and bow at his back. Elladan nocked an arrow from his own quiver and aimed at the man's back; Elrohir put a hand on his arm to prevent any rash acts. Their father had given warnings to all of the border patrols, warnings of strangers entering their lands, arriving for the council that Elrond had arranged. His twin sons had already met and directed a few travellers to the Last Homely House, and here was a new one. Or was he?
The Elves followed the mounted man silently through the trees until they were in front of him, watching as he carefully directed his horse around the tree roots and dangerous parts of the track. At a fork in the trail, the man halted and dismounted, moving to check out both directions before returning to horse, rummaging around in one of his saddlebags. The Elves watched curiously, wondering what the strange human was doing.
The man pulled out a loaf of bread - probably bought from one of the human villages dotted around the land - and broke off a piece, feeding it to his horse before taking a bite himself. The horse whinnied happily at the unexpected treat and nosed the man's shoulder for some more; the man chuckled and gave the horse another lump of bread. Elrohir smiled at the compassion that this man bestowed upon the animals around him; Elladan showed no emotion, just in case this man wasn't what he seemed…
"You can come out of hiding now," The man shocked both Elves by speaking directly to them, "I'd like to see my opponents face-to-face, rather than being shot down from the trees," The twins looked at each other in surprise; when was the last time a human had known they were following him? Elladan shrugged his shoulders and dropped from the trees; Elrohir followed his more impetuous brother somewhat more sedately.
The man staggered slightly as he realised that he had two Elves stood before him, not hunters as he had first thought, Elladan with his bow ready and Elrohir with his arms folded, looking quite imposing. He lowered his hood so that they could see he was not an impostor.
"Man eneth lín?" -What is your name?- Elrohir asked the man, buzzing from the tension he could feel radiating from his brother beside him. He watched as the man stroked his horse's muzzle gently, comfortingly.
"Faramir I eneth nín," -My name is Faramir- the man answered quietly, examining the brothers with his bright indigo eyes. Elrohir experienced a spark of recognition; so this was the son of the Steward of Gondor. Word had spread to Imladris of the re-taking of Osgiliath and the wounding of Boromir, the heir of the Steward. Faramir was Denethor's youngest, but apparently the more accepting of the ways of Elves out of the two sons. Elladan lowered his bow and put the arrow back into his quiver.
"Goheno nín," -Forgive me- he told Faramir, inclining his head; Faramir smiled kindly.
"Ú-moe edaved," -There is nothing to forgive- he sighed, absently rubbing the bridge of his nose; Elrohir noted the gesture and bowed to Faramir, deciding that Westron may be less taxing on the travel weary human.
"If you wish, we can lead you to Imladris," the Elf gestured to the left-hand path, "Just follow us," Faramir looked grateful and took hold of Elmoth's reins. Elrohir smiled to himself, wondering what his father would say when he learned that his sons were playing 'tour guide' with the travellers…