Sorry - I forgot to mention the following:
Brackets [like these] are thoughts
A bar of stars * * * like that mean a flashback
A bar of triplets --- --- --- --- like that mean a break
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, except the arrangement of the words. But I still love Faramir anyway. *swoon*
_________________________________
Chapter Two: Memories Old and New
The rest of the week passed, but not calmly. Faramir had a large argument with Aragorn, over the topic of the Steward's rooms. He had felt completely justified though, when he returned from a journey to the site of Emyn Arnen only to find that while he had been away, Aragorn had ordered his rooms to be emptied, and all his possessions placed in the official Steward's chambers. Faramir had been livid.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Faramir stormed into the King's office, hurt and anger all over his face. "What in Eru's name were you thinking?"
Aragorn looked up at Faramir. "Don't be angry, Faramir. You were never going to move your things - I had to do it for you. I meant no offense, honestly. But -"
"But nothing! You had no right!"
Aragorn had a soft spot - he always took particular offense when someone questioned his authority, after spending so many years with none at all. "I had every right, Steward, to make sure that you act your position."
"And I have every right to demand a little common courtesy!"
"I had to do it, since you never would!"
"I didn't want it done! And all you did was go behind my back, moving all of my things, even my most personal belongings! And with no warning whatsoever! Here I am, walking into my rooms like a fool, only to see that they are completely empty!"
Aragorn threw down his pen in disgust. "Lord Faramir" - here he hit one of Faramir's soft spots - "you are the Steward, and therefore need to have the Steward's rooms! I don't understand your problem with that. Where's your sense of duty? It isn't my fault that you and your father never got along - I am trying my hardest to make sure that you are shown the dignity and honour and benefits of your position as Steward, so that the people of Gondor don't think that you are merely there for a consolation prize!"
"If you had asked me - you should have told me! How am I being shown honour when you go behind my back! Everything was just dumped into the room, and left in a pile, and no one even thought to empty out Father's belongings!"
Aragorn began to shout at him. "I thought that you would want to do that yourself! That is your duty, which you haven't been showing at all lately!"
"My things are in complete disarray, one of my most cherished possessions has been destroyed, and you're telling me that I am not showing my sense of duty! It's blasted duty that's keeping me out of those rooms!" He pounded a fist down onto the desk.
"Duty to yourself! We all have to grow up and face our fears, Lord Faramir. It's obvious to me that you still haven't faced your old demons." Faramir opened his mouth to speak, but Aragorn held up his hand to silence him, just as his father used to. "You will sleep in the Steward's rooms tonight, even if I have to send a guard to make sure that you do."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Faramir did sleep in those rooms. If it could be called sleep. He spent the nights tossing and turning miserably on the bed. He began having the intense dreams again, the ones that make him shake in his sleep, as though he is having a seizure. Fortunately, Beregond had been warned before, and so knew not to wake Faramir, lest he be taken ill. The week of poor sleep, or none at all, had taken its toll on Faramir, so that by a week to Midwinter, he looked positively unwell. He avoided Aragorn all week, and had hardly seen Legolas and Gimli. No one had been told of the argument, and everyone just assumed that Faramir had begun to live in the apartments by his own free will.
Faramir used to spend much time in his rooms, but now that he could not, he found himself in the archives more, once his meagre work had been completed. [Nothing ever happens around Midwinter,] he thought to himself one day. He contented himself with the new store of knowledge that had been opened to him, since Aragorn took the Crown. Denethor had not allowed him into the archives, only the main library, but Aragorn had given him free permission, and so Faramir began to explore this new frontier of his.
Faramir was very lonely, though. This was the first Midwinter that he had spent without any family whatsoever. Even if those days were not joyful, he had taken advantage of them, never truly thinking on what would happen if those days would be no more. He began to remember the first Midwinter that he could.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"Father, can we go play in the snow?" Boromir's eager face peeked over the windowsill.
"Nay, my son, not until later. You want to eat your breakfast and open your gifts, don't you?" Denethor smiled a rare smile, which helped to erase some of the growing wrinkles on his face. Boromir nodded his head, his brown hair bouncing. Denethor picked him up, and carried him to the table, where Faramir and Finduilas already sat.
"Good morning, Mother. Good morning, Faramir." Finduilas's weary eyes lowered to her son's face, and said a quiet good morning with a smile. Faramir responded just as quietly, still in pain from the previous night.
Denethor sat down at the table, and the family began to eat. The conversation was mostly between Boromir and Denethor. Finally the Steward spoke to his youngest son. "Do you think that the leg braces are helping you walk better, Faramir? Your nurse seems pleased with the results."
Faramir lifted his large blue-grey eyes from the meal to his Father. "They hurt very much," he said quietly, "but I suppose they do their work."
"That's what they're supposed to do. You see, Finduilas? You worry for nothing. The braces are well for Faramir."
The woman looked tiredly at Denethor, as though she had not slept, even though she had gone to her rest hours before her husband. "Such a small child should not have to deal with such pain," she said. Finduilas smiled down at her two sons. "I have gifts for you. Let me get them for you from their hiding places."
She rose slowly out of her seat, Denethor's eyes following her cautiously. She took a few steps forward, but then tripped and fell. Giving a small cry, she landed on the floor. Denethor ran forward. "Finduilas!"
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"Captain Faramir, it is one o' clock," Beregond interrupted his thoughts. [That's right. I asked him to call me at one.] He smiled. [Beregond still calls me Captain. At least someone remembers that I am still Captain of the Ithilien Rangers, which has been so far my favourite title to hold.]
"Thank you, Beregond." The man left. [What did I want to do at one? Oh yes. I have to meet with Aragorn.] He looked unhappily at the book in his hands, then placed it back on the shelves. Closing the archive door, he made his way to the Council Chamber. With any luck, the meeting would be cancelled or some other nonsense.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, except the arrangement of the words. But I still love Faramir anyway. *swoon*
_________________________________
Chapter Two: Memories Old and New
The rest of the week passed, but not calmly. Faramir had a large argument with Aragorn, over the topic of the Steward's rooms. He had felt completely justified though, when he returned from a journey to the site of Emyn Arnen only to find that while he had been away, Aragorn had ordered his rooms to be emptied, and all his possessions placed in the official Steward's chambers. Faramir had been livid.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Faramir stormed into the King's office, hurt and anger all over his face. "What in Eru's name were you thinking?"
Aragorn looked up at Faramir. "Don't be angry, Faramir. You were never going to move your things - I had to do it for you. I meant no offense, honestly. But -"
"But nothing! You had no right!"
Aragorn had a soft spot - he always took particular offense when someone questioned his authority, after spending so many years with none at all. "I had every right, Steward, to make sure that you act your position."
"And I have every right to demand a little common courtesy!"
"I had to do it, since you never would!"
"I didn't want it done! And all you did was go behind my back, moving all of my things, even my most personal belongings! And with no warning whatsoever! Here I am, walking into my rooms like a fool, only to see that they are completely empty!"
Aragorn threw down his pen in disgust. "Lord Faramir" - here he hit one of Faramir's soft spots - "you are the Steward, and therefore need to have the Steward's rooms! I don't understand your problem with that. Where's your sense of duty? It isn't my fault that you and your father never got along - I am trying my hardest to make sure that you are shown the dignity and honour and benefits of your position as Steward, so that the people of Gondor don't think that you are merely there for a consolation prize!"
"If you had asked me - you should have told me! How am I being shown honour when you go behind my back! Everything was just dumped into the room, and left in a pile, and no one even thought to empty out Father's belongings!"
Aragorn began to shout at him. "I thought that you would want to do that yourself! That is your duty, which you haven't been showing at all lately!"
"My things are in complete disarray, one of my most cherished possessions has been destroyed, and you're telling me that I am not showing my sense of duty! It's blasted duty that's keeping me out of those rooms!" He pounded a fist down onto the desk.
"Duty to yourself! We all have to grow up and face our fears, Lord Faramir. It's obvious to me that you still haven't faced your old demons." Faramir opened his mouth to speak, but Aragorn held up his hand to silence him, just as his father used to. "You will sleep in the Steward's rooms tonight, even if I have to send a guard to make sure that you do."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Faramir did sleep in those rooms. If it could be called sleep. He spent the nights tossing and turning miserably on the bed. He began having the intense dreams again, the ones that make him shake in his sleep, as though he is having a seizure. Fortunately, Beregond had been warned before, and so knew not to wake Faramir, lest he be taken ill. The week of poor sleep, or none at all, had taken its toll on Faramir, so that by a week to Midwinter, he looked positively unwell. He avoided Aragorn all week, and had hardly seen Legolas and Gimli. No one had been told of the argument, and everyone just assumed that Faramir had begun to live in the apartments by his own free will.
Faramir used to spend much time in his rooms, but now that he could not, he found himself in the archives more, once his meagre work had been completed. [Nothing ever happens around Midwinter,] he thought to himself one day. He contented himself with the new store of knowledge that had been opened to him, since Aragorn took the Crown. Denethor had not allowed him into the archives, only the main library, but Aragorn had given him free permission, and so Faramir began to explore this new frontier of his.
Faramir was very lonely, though. This was the first Midwinter that he had spent without any family whatsoever. Even if those days were not joyful, he had taken advantage of them, never truly thinking on what would happen if those days would be no more. He began to remember the first Midwinter that he could.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"Father, can we go play in the snow?" Boromir's eager face peeked over the windowsill.
"Nay, my son, not until later. You want to eat your breakfast and open your gifts, don't you?" Denethor smiled a rare smile, which helped to erase some of the growing wrinkles on his face. Boromir nodded his head, his brown hair bouncing. Denethor picked him up, and carried him to the table, where Faramir and Finduilas already sat.
"Good morning, Mother. Good morning, Faramir." Finduilas's weary eyes lowered to her son's face, and said a quiet good morning with a smile. Faramir responded just as quietly, still in pain from the previous night.
Denethor sat down at the table, and the family began to eat. The conversation was mostly between Boromir and Denethor. Finally the Steward spoke to his youngest son. "Do you think that the leg braces are helping you walk better, Faramir? Your nurse seems pleased with the results."
Faramir lifted his large blue-grey eyes from the meal to his Father. "They hurt very much," he said quietly, "but I suppose they do their work."
"That's what they're supposed to do. You see, Finduilas? You worry for nothing. The braces are well for Faramir."
The woman looked tiredly at Denethor, as though she had not slept, even though she had gone to her rest hours before her husband. "Such a small child should not have to deal with such pain," she said. Finduilas smiled down at her two sons. "I have gifts for you. Let me get them for you from their hiding places."
She rose slowly out of her seat, Denethor's eyes following her cautiously. She took a few steps forward, but then tripped and fell. Giving a small cry, she landed on the floor. Denethor ran forward. "Finduilas!"
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"Captain Faramir, it is one o' clock," Beregond interrupted his thoughts. [That's right. I asked him to call me at one.] He smiled. [Beregond still calls me Captain. At least someone remembers that I am still Captain of the Ithilien Rangers, which has been so far my favourite title to hold.]
"Thank you, Beregond." The man left. [What did I want to do at one? Oh yes. I have to meet with Aragorn.] He looked unhappily at the book in his hands, then placed it back on the shelves. Closing the archive door, he made his way to the Council Chamber. With any luck, the meeting would be cancelled or some other nonsense.