Faramir's aunt had been brought to bed that afternoon, and the House of the Prince of Dol Amroth trembled with suppressed tension. Of course, Faramir hadn't known why his aunt and uncle weren't present at dinner, nor why everyone else seemed so distracted. Boromir had been the one to inform him, loftily adding that he remembered when Faramir was born and things had been just the same. "I wouldn't expect a star lesson tonight," he warned his younger brother. "Grandfather will probably be too busy."
Still, Faramir wanted to practice finding the stars and constellations he did know; and so, after two servings of honeyed fruit (for none of the adults had much appetite) he went out into the colonnaded garden and chose a bench from which to watch the sky.
The sun had just sunk beneath the water, blazing as if a ship were aflame out at sea; but Faramir's eyes were fixed on the East, where firefly points of light were appearing moment by moment, as he lost himself in the wheeling dance of the skies.
It was nearly full dark when steps clattered down the staircase from the upper rooms, then paced on the terrace behind him. Another set of footsteps hurried out from the dining hall. "No news?" Adrahil called, making Faramir start; his grandfather's voice came from close behind him.
"None yet. And Meril has barred me from the rooms; she says that I am distracting the midwives and Nimrien. She told me to go away until after the tide turns." Unsure whether his uncle and grandfather knew he was present, Faramir kept still, hoping that he would not seem to be eavesdropping on private matters if found.
"Meril is a wise woman," Adrahil remarked mildly.
"Second babes are meant to be easier, they say," Imrahil muttered to himself.
Adrahil must have heard, however, for he replied, "Have patience, my son; the turn of the tide is coming." Descending the shallow stairs into the garden, he looked about and smiled at the sight of Faramir. "My faithful pupil, I am sorry that I have neglected you tonight. What have you seen so far?"
"There is something I have been wondering about…" Faramir pointed to a smear of light in the north-eastern sky, just above the dark mass of the Ephel Duath. "What is that? It is too large to be a star, and it does not move quickly enough to be a comet – I think," he added hastily.
Sitting down next to the boy, Adrahil sighed at his grandson's habit of qualifying almost any statement. "You are right, Faramir, that is not a comet. It is a group of stars so close together that our eyes can scarcely tell them apart. They are called Remmirath in the Grey Elven tongue."
"The... jewels?" Faramir hazarded.
"The Netted Jewels, or the Netted Stars, yes."
"Is there a story about them?"
"The Remmirath are unusual, for there are many different tales about them. Some say that the Lady the Elves revere, the Star-Kindler, gathered them in her skirts and brought them from the far West when the Elves awoke for the first time, so that they might have beauty in the skies to look upon.
"Do you remember your lesson of Earendil?" Faramir nodded.
"Well, some say that he took up fishing for stars on his voyage through the skies, and that the Remmirath are a netfull which broke away from his vessel Vingilot one night."
"That one's silly," Faramir said scornfully, and Adrahil laughed. "I agree. No proper sailor would lose a net so easily."
"What is the true story, grandfather?"
"No-one knows which story may be true, Faramir, but I will tell you the one I like best, though it is a sad one. My favourite tale of the Remmirath has to do with how many of them there are, and how many there were a long time ago. Can you count them for me?"
Faramir squinted into the sky, his face pinched in concentration. He had to count several times over to be sure; Adrahil could see his lips moving in a silent reckoning, but finally he said, "Six?"
"You are right again, Faramir. At least, that is how many we see now. Long ago, they say, there were seven of them, and that is the tale I am going to tell you – and your uncle, if he will stop pacing."
Faramir settled more comfortably on the bench, nestling into Adrahil as his grandfather continued to speak. Imrahil could not bring himself to sit, but leaned against the balustrade.
"Thousands of years ago, after Numenor sank and Elendil's ships sailed to these shores, there was a great war, for Sauron the Deceiver had come as well and made himself a stronghold in the Dark Land." Adrahil felt his grandson's slight body shiver in the crook of his arm.
"You know that Elendil and his sons made alliance with the High Elves who still lived in the north at that time, and for many years they laid siege to Mordor. In the last battle before the Dark Tower, what happened?"
"They won, but Anárion and Elendil were killed," Faramir whispered.
"Yes, they were, and so were many others. The High King of the Elves was one of them. He was called Gil-galad, Starlight, because his spirit shone so brightly…"
"But I thought Elves lived forever!" Faramir blurted, shocked into interrupting.
"They may; but they can be killed in battle just as Men can. In any event, Gil-galad perished at the hand of Sauron.
"Both far away in Arnor, and here in Gondor, they marked the absence of a star in the heavens that night; and the Elves said that it had fallen into darkness when Gil-galad was slain. Many laments were written for him, one of which I heard years ago.
"But long ago he rode away,
and where he dwelleth none can say;
for into darkness fell his star
in Mordor where the shadows are," Adrahil sang softly.
"Though Sauron was defeated, that war destroyed much that was fair in Middle-Earth; including the High Kingship of the Elves, for Gil-galad had no heirs. But I do – and this night another has been born, for which I give thanks."
Imrahil sprang up from his uncomfortable slouch. "How do you know?"
"Because Meril has been hovering in the doorway for some time." Adrahil nodded toward an open door in the south wing, the lamplight which spilled through it outlining the nurse's sturdy form.
Imrahil dashed down the terrace and passed her without a word, stone echoing as he pelted up the stairs to his wife's rooms.
"Come, Faramir, and let us question Meril about your new cousin." Slipping his hand into his grandfather's, Faramir followed him toward the warm light.
A/N: The Remmirath are generally identified as the star cluster we know as the Pleiades or the Seven Sisters. Today only six stars in the Pleiades are clearly visible to the naked eye, and there are many tales and myths about what happened to the seventh. Several faint stars associated with the other six are visible with a telescope; one of these stars may have been much brighter in ancient times, accounting for the many early references to seven stars.
Following on from Starlight's story Eärendil, which gives Faramir's age at this time as seven, I realized that this story could be set in the summer of 2990 T.A. – also the year that Imrahil's second son Erchirion was born (according to the HASA Resources section). So I couldn't resist putting that in. The name of Nimrien for Imrahil's wife is borrowed from Isabeau's Dol Amroth stories.
The snippet of song about Gil-galad is, of course, lifted directly from Tolkien (LoTR Bk 1 Ch 11).