{Author's Note: Wow, this is my first story ever to be put on the net. I'm
really excited. Anyway! The concept of the "curse" as Faramir puts it,
came to me a while back. Tolkien says Faramir and Denethor can read the
hearts of men, and he gave Faramir the reoccurring dream about the Flooding
of Numenor. So I began thinking, really thinking, and I came up with the
Curse of Mardil. Though this came later than the idea, and I wrote several
other pieces before Dreamer's Wishes on the subject, I think this one is a
good starter for the concept. I hope you enjoy it and I promise there'll
be more to come.
- Againawen}
Whatever happened to the smiling dreamer?
The joyful boy who laughed in the sun.
What darkness has cursed him?
Smoldered his pride?
What engulfing wave is trying to strangle,
To force away his life?
"'Tis the curse," he told me.
"The curse of my kin."
I stare once more into the dark abyss the covers my room, my oppressive room. Brother has his own room now, he's a growing man. And me? I'm forced alone, where I have nothing to hide behind. Except my books. I still have those and I always will, no matter what he says. Why does he scorn the pastime he adores? That we both share?
I'm more like him than my brother, in appearance and habits. I'm smart, shrewd some say. Brother is a boisterous warrior who cares not for our past and groans during lessons, or my talks. But then again no one listens to me, for I'm the youngest, the second-best, and the crazy one.
But I'm not crazy, and Bori knows this. At the least that's what he tells me. Though when I talk of my dreams he just rolls his eyes and makes me promise not to tell Father. He worries over me, thinking my nightmares are from Father's wrath, and they are, but not the way he thinks. For they aren't just dreams, meaningless fantasies, they are real and Father knows it too.
But does he care? No. I read it off him, he hates me. I'm worthless in his eyes, the little brat that lost him his wife's love and received the gift his heir should've had. But it isn't a gift, no it's a curse. All I've seen, my mother's death, how he'd beat her, the washing waters, the burning fire.. I wish I never saw those things, that I was happy again, like when I was real young, when mother was alive.
But she is gone, and all I have for protection is Bori, but he's slipping away too. Going off to join the army, his dream. And me? I'm stuck here in this hell with Father, whom I love yet hate as well. I want to leave, go to Dol Amroth, see my uncle, but he'd never let me. So I abide, my nose in my books and my heart at the sea, or deep woods, or wherever the hero is, where I wish to be.
I wish to earn renown, like my brother surely will, or better my father's grace. But we all know that will never be for the Steward's second son. I will be forgotten, a pointless name in some history book. Yet they will stare in wonder at my brother's statue, and pledge their allegiance to him when he rules. And I will stand he the shadows and watch his glory and be happy for him, yet sad that I'll never have that bliss.
I love my brother with all my heart, he is my protector, my champion, but he babies me while Father is cold. I'm stuck with two extremes, too much love and too little, and I just wish to get away. Away from the darkness, the pain, the sorrow. Away to the sea and bliss.
- Againawen}
Whatever happened to the smiling dreamer?
The joyful boy who laughed in the sun.
What darkness has cursed him?
Smoldered his pride?
What engulfing wave is trying to strangle,
To force away his life?
"'Tis the curse," he told me.
"The curse of my kin."
I stare once more into the dark abyss the covers my room, my oppressive room. Brother has his own room now, he's a growing man. And me? I'm forced alone, where I have nothing to hide behind. Except my books. I still have those and I always will, no matter what he says. Why does he scorn the pastime he adores? That we both share?
I'm more like him than my brother, in appearance and habits. I'm smart, shrewd some say. Brother is a boisterous warrior who cares not for our past and groans during lessons, or my talks. But then again no one listens to me, for I'm the youngest, the second-best, and the crazy one.
But I'm not crazy, and Bori knows this. At the least that's what he tells me. Though when I talk of my dreams he just rolls his eyes and makes me promise not to tell Father. He worries over me, thinking my nightmares are from Father's wrath, and they are, but not the way he thinks. For they aren't just dreams, meaningless fantasies, they are real and Father knows it too.
But does he care? No. I read it off him, he hates me. I'm worthless in his eyes, the little brat that lost him his wife's love and received the gift his heir should've had. But it isn't a gift, no it's a curse. All I've seen, my mother's death, how he'd beat her, the washing waters, the burning fire.. I wish I never saw those things, that I was happy again, like when I was real young, when mother was alive.
But she is gone, and all I have for protection is Bori, but he's slipping away too. Going off to join the army, his dream. And me? I'm stuck here in this hell with Father, whom I love yet hate as well. I want to leave, go to Dol Amroth, see my uncle, but he'd never let me. So I abide, my nose in my books and my heart at the sea, or deep woods, or wherever the hero is, where I wish to be.
I wish to earn renown, like my brother surely will, or better my father's grace. But we all know that will never be for the Steward's second son. I will be forgotten, a pointless name in some history book. Yet they will stare in wonder at my brother's statue, and pledge their allegiance to him when he rules. And I will stand he the shadows and watch his glory and be happy for him, yet sad that I'll never have that bliss.
I love my brother with all my heart, he is my protector, my champion, but he babies me while Father is cold. I'm stuck with two extremes, too much love and too little, and I just wish to get away. Away from the darkness, the pain, the sorrow. Away to the sea and bliss.