The Strength Within Chapter 3
By: Frances
Faramyn could not recall feeling so incredibly awestruck in her entire life. Her footsteps were light and fast-paced along the cool stone flooring, and her eyes were glowing as though she had been suddenly immersed in a grand fairy tale. Not a single thing had changed about the lovely old castle, and yet, everything was so foreign to her! How could she have ever grown tired of this place? Its beauty was nothing in comparison to the simple yet breathtaking charm of Rohan, however it was certainly a thing to behold. She absentmindedly ran her fingers along the thick tapestries and windowsills as she passed through the hall that led towards the gardens. The route was forever imprinted in her memory, for the gardens were by far the most entrancing sights in all of Gondor... at least in her hardly-humble opinion. A large, elaborately carved window caught Faramyn's attention as she neared the wooden doorway that would take her outdoors. It was tall and slightly narrow, but beautiful. A sort of padded shelf jutted out beneath it; she assumed it to be a window seat.
In the murky depths of her memory she could surely recall the clumsy, poorly sized window, however... The carvings and the seat were entirely new to her. For a moment she wondered if she had not merely forgotten, but a twang in her chest assured her otherwise. This seat was so familiar to her seat... her seat in Rohan that had first entranced her with its amazing view. Whenever anyone from Gondor came to visit her, she would proudly show her window seat and the view that kept her in the land of her mother. Who could have possibly ordered to have it built here? And, like this- identical to the seat that was her favorite spot in all of Middle-Earth? Upon casting her gaze to the world below she could see that the window faced the east, and was high enough that she could see the town below- just like the perch she spent her time on amongst the mountains of her homeland. Oh, how different the view was! This town was large and bustling, complete with a busy market and stone streets. Not at all like the cottages and horses she was accustomed to. However, the resemblance in architecture was uncanny. Someone who knew Rohan had ordered this seat to be built.
"Does it please you, milady?" came a sudden voice behind her. It was deep, soulful, yet expertly contained and very proper. An enormous grin broke across her face. Whirling around, she looked upon the handsome face of her childhood friend. He was smiling gracefully.
"Lastris!" she exclaimed in disbelief. "Was it you that constructed this strange seat?"
He laughed and appeared to consider it. "A queer seat indeed, is it not?"
"Still you play games... has nothing within these walls changed at all?" Faramyn asked, though small bouts of laughter broke into her words. This couldn't be farther from the truth, she knew. Just looking at Lastris caused her heart to flutter madly within her ribcage. He had become, if possible, even more striking and captivating in the four years she had not seen him. Yes, only four years out of his company, but this stretch seemed the longest of all. He had ridden out with Boromir to visit her those many days ago... she had never returned the gesture until now. On a sudden impulse, she reached out and threw her arms around his neck. "It does my heart such good to see you again!"
Unsurprised, Lastris pulled her tightly to him, taking her left hand. "Ay, and it has been far too long!" He held her at arms-length and took in her full presence. "I scarcely recognize you as the boyish swordswoman I once knew!"
Faramyn laughed and pretended to be somewhat shocked at his accusations of her never being girly. "Do you build me a glorious window seat only to lure me here and insult me? I must warn you, sir, I won't stand for it."
"Ah, nay lady, there is no insult in all of Middle-Earth that could adequately pale your beauty," he quipped. Always he was quick of wit and tongue.
"Your words and actions are like the Lotus plant, I fear. Sweet to any outside observations but designed to clear me of all intentions of reaching my homeland. What am I to make of this, Your Highness?" She pushed him playfully away with one hand, before raising the same one dramatically to her forehead.
Lastris merely shook his head at her antics, though his right hand remained intertwined with hers. "Though selfishness would influence me to keep you in Gondor for all time, I would not be the fool to stand between the lady Eowyn's daughter and her Rohan. Surely," he added in jest, "that would be a wish for an instant and untimely end."
"Indeed," nodded Faramyn, locking eyes with him and finding herself briefly unable to look away. Lastris watched her curiously. "We... have much to discuss over dinner this evening," she said slowly. "However, right now I am on my way to the gardens, in search of my mother. Do you care to accompany me?"
"I am afraid I must decline," he responded. "I too find myself searching for my own mother. Though, I will certainly save you a place at my side when it comes time to feast, and we will exchange any and all anecdotes we may have missed in the past four years."
"Numerous though they may be," she chuckled.
Glancing her up and down a final time, Lastris bowed courteously. "I bid you farewell, milady."
Faramyn watched his retreating back until he disappeared down the corridor. A tingling sensation was making its way through her fingertips and up her spine. Shrugging it off, she exited the castle and took in the splendor that was her familiar garden.
The gravel pathways were wide and intricately woven, so that if one was not cautious, they could easily become lost. Faramyn, however, always knew the correct way. She smiled widely as her feet lead her to a spacious clearing, past a bench, beneath a great trellis and into the shade of a clump of trees.
The garden was laid out fairly simply in terms of plant life, however confusing the paths may be. Closest to the castle were the low growing annuals that had to be constantly tended to and replanted. This section, because of its required maintenance, was very small. There was only one pathway through it, and on either side waves of pink, purple and yellow stretched over the level ground. At the end of this short path there was a large, circular dirt clearing which was lined by three trellises and adorned with a heavy bench.
Farthest left was a trellis covered in ivy. Through it, one could find an enormous grove of trees. Most of them were unique or exotic, but there were several of no clear magnificence. Each trunk was properly spaced so as not to feel cramping, but close enough to the others around it as to simulate a young forest. It was Faramyn's favorite part of the garden by far and served as a sort of thinking place, however, it was the largest and included the most paths. Newcomers were not advised to wander through this section unless accompanied by someone who was familiar with it.
Upon the next trellis, a thin layer of roses wound its way between the wooden latticework, bold yet meek at the same time. Through it laid the second largest section, the perennials. These flowers appeared wild and indeed they were. Each spring they returned in full bloom, every bit as impressive as the prissy, uptight annuals. The walkways through this section were not gravel but dirt. This did not lessen the beauty of the portion, however. In the summer time one could wander through the field and be surrounded by the heavy aroma of nature at its finest.
The final sector of the garden was the most difficult to construct. This trellis stood plainly, for once on the other side of it the layout was anything but plain. Huge, towering green bushes rose on either side of the entrance and formed to make a very complex maze. Much thought had been given to the puzzle, and it was indeed very confusing. Faramyn had only successfully navigated through it once. Always the foliage seemed to be shifting and realigning itself, though common sense told her this was impossible. In the fall the leaves would melt into a fiery red that made the maze all the more captivating.
Memories of all portions of the garden came rushing back to Faramyn as she plodded slowly beneath the canopy of the trees, eyes like saucers and mouth drawn into an amused bow. Her mother could not be found on the bench she normally relaxed on in her spare time, but Faramyn decided to visit her old thinking spot before resuming the search elsewhere. At the very edge of the gardens, set slightly away from the others, there was a huge, lofty tree whose foliage shone a pale and shimmering green. Its bark was a strange sort of white, almost silver in its pureness and flawlessness. There were no visible marks marring the perfectly smooth surface and the branches spread like eagles' wings on either side of the trunk. Only one limb was disfigured, though Faramyn did not think of it as such. It was the lowest appendage on the left, and its end was slightly dipped so that it formed an ideal seat. At all times in her life she could remember scampering up the tree and carefully crawling out to her 'nature chair'.
As she neared the beloved figure of her childhood, a soft humming drifted to Faramyn's ears. It beckoned to and spellbound her with its unearthly beauty. The tune was ever familiar, as was the deep, rich tone; it sent a shock from the tip of her toes all the way to her neck. Picking up speed and craning her neck to look to the top of the tree, Faramyn laughed aloud. On the highest branch, Legolas of Mirkwood leaned against the trunk with his feet stretched lazily before him. His eyes were partially closed in a peaceful expression that tugged at her heartstrings.
"Master elf!" Faramyn cried as his gaze opened and sought hers. "Wouldst you have room amongst these boughs for one more idle dreamer?"
~*~
A/N: Hehe... I'm going to cut it off there and devote the next chapter to Legolas. I hope I didn't put too much detail in this chapter and that it makes sense... If my descriptions are sounding more like ramblings, please let me know. =^_^= Thanks again to my fabulous reviewers! You guys are the best!
By: Frances
Faramyn could not recall feeling so incredibly awestruck in her entire life. Her footsteps were light and fast-paced along the cool stone flooring, and her eyes were glowing as though she had been suddenly immersed in a grand fairy tale. Not a single thing had changed about the lovely old castle, and yet, everything was so foreign to her! How could she have ever grown tired of this place? Its beauty was nothing in comparison to the simple yet breathtaking charm of Rohan, however it was certainly a thing to behold. She absentmindedly ran her fingers along the thick tapestries and windowsills as she passed through the hall that led towards the gardens. The route was forever imprinted in her memory, for the gardens were by far the most entrancing sights in all of Gondor... at least in her hardly-humble opinion. A large, elaborately carved window caught Faramyn's attention as she neared the wooden doorway that would take her outdoors. It was tall and slightly narrow, but beautiful. A sort of padded shelf jutted out beneath it; she assumed it to be a window seat.
In the murky depths of her memory she could surely recall the clumsy, poorly sized window, however... The carvings and the seat were entirely new to her. For a moment she wondered if she had not merely forgotten, but a twang in her chest assured her otherwise. This seat was so familiar to her seat... her seat in Rohan that had first entranced her with its amazing view. Whenever anyone from Gondor came to visit her, she would proudly show her window seat and the view that kept her in the land of her mother. Who could have possibly ordered to have it built here? And, like this- identical to the seat that was her favorite spot in all of Middle-Earth? Upon casting her gaze to the world below she could see that the window faced the east, and was high enough that she could see the town below- just like the perch she spent her time on amongst the mountains of her homeland. Oh, how different the view was! This town was large and bustling, complete with a busy market and stone streets. Not at all like the cottages and horses she was accustomed to. However, the resemblance in architecture was uncanny. Someone who knew Rohan had ordered this seat to be built.
"Does it please you, milady?" came a sudden voice behind her. It was deep, soulful, yet expertly contained and very proper. An enormous grin broke across her face. Whirling around, she looked upon the handsome face of her childhood friend. He was smiling gracefully.
"Lastris!" she exclaimed in disbelief. "Was it you that constructed this strange seat?"
He laughed and appeared to consider it. "A queer seat indeed, is it not?"
"Still you play games... has nothing within these walls changed at all?" Faramyn asked, though small bouts of laughter broke into her words. This couldn't be farther from the truth, she knew. Just looking at Lastris caused her heart to flutter madly within her ribcage. He had become, if possible, even more striking and captivating in the four years she had not seen him. Yes, only four years out of his company, but this stretch seemed the longest of all. He had ridden out with Boromir to visit her those many days ago... she had never returned the gesture until now. On a sudden impulse, she reached out and threw her arms around his neck. "It does my heart such good to see you again!"
Unsurprised, Lastris pulled her tightly to him, taking her left hand. "Ay, and it has been far too long!" He held her at arms-length and took in her full presence. "I scarcely recognize you as the boyish swordswoman I once knew!"
Faramyn laughed and pretended to be somewhat shocked at his accusations of her never being girly. "Do you build me a glorious window seat only to lure me here and insult me? I must warn you, sir, I won't stand for it."
"Ah, nay lady, there is no insult in all of Middle-Earth that could adequately pale your beauty," he quipped. Always he was quick of wit and tongue.
"Your words and actions are like the Lotus plant, I fear. Sweet to any outside observations but designed to clear me of all intentions of reaching my homeland. What am I to make of this, Your Highness?" She pushed him playfully away with one hand, before raising the same one dramatically to her forehead.
Lastris merely shook his head at her antics, though his right hand remained intertwined with hers. "Though selfishness would influence me to keep you in Gondor for all time, I would not be the fool to stand between the lady Eowyn's daughter and her Rohan. Surely," he added in jest, "that would be a wish for an instant and untimely end."
"Indeed," nodded Faramyn, locking eyes with him and finding herself briefly unable to look away. Lastris watched her curiously. "We... have much to discuss over dinner this evening," she said slowly. "However, right now I am on my way to the gardens, in search of my mother. Do you care to accompany me?"
"I am afraid I must decline," he responded. "I too find myself searching for my own mother. Though, I will certainly save you a place at my side when it comes time to feast, and we will exchange any and all anecdotes we may have missed in the past four years."
"Numerous though they may be," she chuckled.
Glancing her up and down a final time, Lastris bowed courteously. "I bid you farewell, milady."
Faramyn watched his retreating back until he disappeared down the corridor. A tingling sensation was making its way through her fingertips and up her spine. Shrugging it off, she exited the castle and took in the splendor that was her familiar garden.
The gravel pathways were wide and intricately woven, so that if one was not cautious, they could easily become lost. Faramyn, however, always knew the correct way. She smiled widely as her feet lead her to a spacious clearing, past a bench, beneath a great trellis and into the shade of a clump of trees.
The garden was laid out fairly simply in terms of plant life, however confusing the paths may be. Closest to the castle were the low growing annuals that had to be constantly tended to and replanted. This section, because of its required maintenance, was very small. There was only one pathway through it, and on either side waves of pink, purple and yellow stretched over the level ground. At the end of this short path there was a large, circular dirt clearing which was lined by three trellises and adorned with a heavy bench.
Farthest left was a trellis covered in ivy. Through it, one could find an enormous grove of trees. Most of them were unique or exotic, but there were several of no clear magnificence. Each trunk was properly spaced so as not to feel cramping, but close enough to the others around it as to simulate a young forest. It was Faramyn's favorite part of the garden by far and served as a sort of thinking place, however, it was the largest and included the most paths. Newcomers were not advised to wander through this section unless accompanied by someone who was familiar with it.
Upon the next trellis, a thin layer of roses wound its way between the wooden latticework, bold yet meek at the same time. Through it laid the second largest section, the perennials. These flowers appeared wild and indeed they were. Each spring they returned in full bloom, every bit as impressive as the prissy, uptight annuals. The walkways through this section were not gravel but dirt. This did not lessen the beauty of the portion, however. In the summer time one could wander through the field and be surrounded by the heavy aroma of nature at its finest.
The final sector of the garden was the most difficult to construct. This trellis stood plainly, for once on the other side of it the layout was anything but plain. Huge, towering green bushes rose on either side of the entrance and formed to make a very complex maze. Much thought had been given to the puzzle, and it was indeed very confusing. Faramyn had only successfully navigated through it once. Always the foliage seemed to be shifting and realigning itself, though common sense told her this was impossible. In the fall the leaves would melt into a fiery red that made the maze all the more captivating.
Memories of all portions of the garden came rushing back to Faramyn as she plodded slowly beneath the canopy of the trees, eyes like saucers and mouth drawn into an amused bow. Her mother could not be found on the bench she normally relaxed on in her spare time, but Faramyn decided to visit her old thinking spot before resuming the search elsewhere. At the very edge of the gardens, set slightly away from the others, there was a huge, lofty tree whose foliage shone a pale and shimmering green. Its bark was a strange sort of white, almost silver in its pureness and flawlessness. There were no visible marks marring the perfectly smooth surface and the branches spread like eagles' wings on either side of the trunk. Only one limb was disfigured, though Faramyn did not think of it as such. It was the lowest appendage on the left, and its end was slightly dipped so that it formed an ideal seat. At all times in her life she could remember scampering up the tree and carefully crawling out to her 'nature chair'.
As she neared the beloved figure of her childhood, a soft humming drifted to Faramyn's ears. It beckoned to and spellbound her with its unearthly beauty. The tune was ever familiar, as was the deep, rich tone; it sent a shock from the tip of her toes all the way to her neck. Picking up speed and craning her neck to look to the top of the tree, Faramyn laughed aloud. On the highest branch, Legolas of Mirkwood leaned against the trunk with his feet stretched lazily before him. His eyes were partially closed in a peaceful expression that tugged at her heartstrings.
"Master elf!" Faramyn cried as his gaze opened and sought hers. "Wouldst you have room amongst these boughs for one more idle dreamer?"
~*~
A/N: Hehe... I'm going to cut it off there and devote the next chapter to Legolas. I hope I didn't put too much detail in this chapter and that it makes sense... If my descriptions are sounding more like ramblings, please let me know. =^_^= Thanks again to my fabulous reviewers! You guys are the best!