Chap 2- The Houses (Faramir)
Turning over in bed, I groaned as I realized sunlight was warming my face. Day had come and I would have to eventually rise to greet it. No one would be expecting me for several more hours though, so I had the unusual ability of just lying about for a while.
As I stared at the ceiling I began to visualize the changes the last few days had brought to me. My life had changed from mediocre to desperate lows. My father had committed suicide, while trying to take me with him, and my brother had died only months ago during battle.
My relationships had never been perfect, and in truth were pretty screwed up. Never being the son my father wanted, I almost always felt a burden. Instead I turned to books and gained knowledge of the world. When rarely someone entered Gondor from the outside world, I was eager to converse about what was going on outside the lands I grew up in. My father knew this and always regretted how I preferred spending time with strangers than with my own family.
My brother was another story. He knew I was different, and his own odd brotherly way, appreciated who I was. He never bashed me for my reading, but instead made sure I also had the skills necessary to survive in the world. My ability to swordfight, use a bow and arrow, and my ability to survive in battle had come from him making sure I went to my lessons. He had taken care of me when I had needed it. He was the parents I needed in my childhood.
My own father had loved me, as he evidenced in his last dying act. Not wanting to accept the death of another son, he lost it. He took my lifeless body to the tombs and set us both on fire. If it were not for a daring rescue, I would not have survived to live.
Live for what? As I pull my legs over the side of the bed and choose clothes for the day I realize now that the love I finally had is now gone. At the last moment my father finally decided to express his love for me, and it was too late. My brother, who was the one person I could possibly reach out to, would not be returning to the land of the living.
After searching mindlessly through the drawers I finally found a clean tunic at the bottom, and I stood up to face the mirror. After I throw it on over my head I realize how long it has been since I actually looked at myself.
Never being one who took a lot of stock in the way I looked, I remained exactly the same on the outside, despite how much change my life had gone through in the last months. My shaggy dusty blonde hair still fell to my shoulders and my chin would still remind one of a battle between full beard and five o'clock shadow.
After running my hands through my hair a few times I looked presentable enough. I grab my blue coat lying on the chair and head out the door to the garden.
Turning over in bed, I groaned as I realized sunlight was warming my face. Day had come and I would have to eventually rise to greet it. No one would be expecting me for several more hours though, so I had the unusual ability of just lying about for a while.
As I stared at the ceiling I began to visualize the changes the last few days had brought to me. My life had changed from mediocre to desperate lows. My father had committed suicide, while trying to take me with him, and my brother had died only months ago during battle.
My relationships had never been perfect, and in truth were pretty screwed up. Never being the son my father wanted, I almost always felt a burden. Instead I turned to books and gained knowledge of the world. When rarely someone entered Gondor from the outside world, I was eager to converse about what was going on outside the lands I grew up in. My father knew this and always regretted how I preferred spending time with strangers than with my own family.
My brother was another story. He knew I was different, and his own odd brotherly way, appreciated who I was. He never bashed me for my reading, but instead made sure I also had the skills necessary to survive in the world. My ability to swordfight, use a bow and arrow, and my ability to survive in battle had come from him making sure I went to my lessons. He had taken care of me when I had needed it. He was the parents I needed in my childhood.
My own father had loved me, as he evidenced in his last dying act. Not wanting to accept the death of another son, he lost it. He took my lifeless body to the tombs and set us both on fire. If it were not for a daring rescue, I would not have survived to live.
Live for what? As I pull my legs over the side of the bed and choose clothes for the day I realize now that the love I finally had is now gone. At the last moment my father finally decided to express his love for me, and it was too late. My brother, who was the one person I could possibly reach out to, would not be returning to the land of the living.
After searching mindlessly through the drawers I finally found a clean tunic at the bottom, and I stood up to face the mirror. After I throw it on over my head I realize how long it has been since I actually looked at myself.
Never being one who took a lot of stock in the way I looked, I remained exactly the same on the outside, despite how much change my life had gone through in the last months. My shaggy dusty blonde hair still fell to my shoulders and my chin would still remind one of a battle between full beard and five o'clock shadow.
After running my hands through my hair a few times I looked presentable enough. I grab my blue coat lying on the chair and head out the door to the garden.