First of all, thanks to my first reviewers of all time, Angel and Patty!!
Angel: My first reviewer ever!! *hug* Thanks so much for your comment!! Alas, I despise Denethor. Despise him to the core. And he gets meaner, for two reasons: (1) I'm almost finished with the story, and don't feel like re- writing, and (2) I think that Denethor would have always been cruel to Faramir, at least after Finduilas died. But thanks anyway!! Sorry. Hope you keep reading anyway.
Patty: My second reviewer ever!! *hug* I'm EXTREMELY appreciative of the encouragement. It means a lot to me. Thanks!! When I first came to this website, I was really surprised to see die-hard Faramir fans. I thought I was the only one. It is a cozy feeling to know that you're not alone!! Thanks again.
Please review!! I've so enjoyed reading mine, and I'm really surprised how happy it makes me feel. *sighs contentedly* *pulls out pipe-weed, and blows a smoke ring* I've also discovered that I love responding to them. So - make me a happy person - review!!
Disclaimer: Faramir and his wonderfulness are not mine, and neither is anything else. All must bow to Faramir!! *teehee* __________________________
Chapter Three: Memories of a Wintertime Merry
Legolas and Gimli sat in the same places as they had when Faramir was last there, and the same chair had been placed for him at the foot of the table. He calmly took a seat. Aragorn had not arrived yet, and Faramir greeted Legolas and Gimli warmly. Gimli first brought up the topic. "So, you've had a change of heart? Sleeping in the Steward's rooms?"
Faramir didn't quite know what to say to that. He wanted to explain how he was forced to, but it wasn't his place to talk about a person, never mind a King, behind his back. He tried an answer that would be vague enough so that he could elaborate at a later date if the opportunity was provided. [Or if I'm in a foul enough mood,] he thought wryly to himself. "I am sleeping there, aye."
Legolas's eyes shone with concern. "Not very well, it appears."
"I manage. I hope to travel to Rohan soon, though, and then I will not have any worry on the matter." Faramir had asked Aragorn permission a month ago, and he had granted it, but recent events may have changed his mind.
Aragorn walked into the room and they all rose. Faramir bowed, but Legolas and Gimli simply sat down again. He remained standing until Aragorn finally sat down, as a sign of respect. "Well," he began. "Good afternoon." The others wished him the same. "Well," he said again. "I have some wonderful news. Gimli's mountain folk have started to pack their things - they should be here in about a month. We will then begin the design process. As my official design council -" Legolas hid a smile while Gimli openly harrumphed, causing Aragorn to grin "- I want to start figuring out exactly what all this is going to look like."
Gimli pretended to act official. "If, King Elessar, I may add my humble opinion -"
Legolas couldn't help but say something. "No doubt you will whether or not he gives you leave!" He and Aragorn began to laugh.
Gimli glared at Legolas, but there was merriment in his eyes. "That just shows how valuable my opinion is. Anyway, I think that what the Gate looks like should be left to the dwarves who will build it. They will build one of size, strength, and beauty - I can guarantee that. Give them free rein." He added an afterthought. "And the Elves, of course, can do whatever they like after. But a Gate, even in peacetime, must be made for strength."
Legolas added his agreement. "Well said, Master Dwarf." The trio continued their planning, but Faramir found himself not listening. [It's clear that I'm only here for show. I don't see exactly why all this is being planned now, but it is Aragorn's decision to plan early, I suppose.] Faramir's thoughts began to turn towards the memories from the archives.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Finduilas smiled in bed. "I know you two boys desire to go and play in the snow. You may leave me - I do not mind at all. Just be careful." Boromir and Faramir climbed onto the bed, the latter more slowly. They gave their mother a hug and a kiss. Boromir ran out of the room to get their cloaks. Finduilas hugged Faramir hard. "Be careful, Faramir. Do not stay out too long, for you are so vulnerable to chills. And do not feel as though you must keep up with Boromir. Everyone knows that you have his strength inside you, and you will one day have the opportunity to show it." Faramir nodded his serious face at his mother, and gave her an extra hug. With one last look, he left the room. Finduilas sank back onto the pillows, her own strength spent. Calling the nurse, she pulled her blankets up higher. She spoke strongly to her, and told her to move the bed so that she could watch her sons play in the snow. Eventually, to persuade the woman, she resorted to begging her. The nurse agreed finally, and so Finduilas watched her boys in the courtyard. She fell asleep to the sound of their laughter.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Faramir closed his eyes for a moment to forget the memory. When he opened them, Legolas was casting him a side-glance, while Aragorn and Gimli sat at the table laughing. His eyes met Legolas's, and the Elf seemed to speak with his eyes. [Are you all right?] he seemed to ask. Faramir responded with his own eyes, trying to make them look convincing, but he knew that he wasn't doing a very good job. He sighed. [Too many memories.]
Aragorn and Gimli composed themselves. "Now, let us turn to the next order of business: the Steward's rooms. Faramir, I am sure you will want them to be redecorated." Aragorn smiled coaxingly. "Do you want us to rip down the walls?"
Faramir didn't want to answer. [I don't want to live there at all, you fool!] He felt trapped, though, into answering. He came up with a non- answer. "With all due respect, I think that Eowyn should have a say in what is decided." He couldn't resist a slight dig, for he was still furious about the whole affair, and even more than that, hurt by Aragorn's insensitivity. "We had redecorated before, but now that it will have to be redone, I want it all to be comfortable for her, at least." He stared straight at Aragorn, causing the man to look away for a moment. He took the opportunity to mention his trip to Edoras. "If I can still go to Rohan, I can ask for her opinion, and anything that she wants done." An idea hit him that would eliminate the whole situation for a time. "But it would be even better if we could postpone doing anything to those rooms" - he didn't even refer to them as his own - "until she is here, and can supervise things herself."
Aragorn agreed. "Then it is settled that nothing will be done until she comes back to Minas Tirith for the wedding." The bell-tower began to chime two. "Well, I think that that's certainly enough for this topic. Now to the gardens." As Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli continued their planning, Faramir once more slipped back to his memories, but these were not as pleasing to remember.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"My sons, I know this is the first Midwinter without your mother, my Finduilas," Denethor began. "But we must be grateful for what we have. And we must show that our family can continue on, despite any problems that we may have. I am the Steward of Gondor, and you are my sons. Always remember that." Boromir nodded solemnly, and Faramir followed suit. The family began to eat.
Boromir and Denethor talked quietly about the snow they had had the year before, but Faramir just sat at the table. He often sat in silence while the others talked, especially since his mother had died. Eventually, they finished the meal. Denethor rose, and walked across the room. "It is time to open your gifts. Boromir, this is yours." He held out a long package to the boy, who jumped up to receive it, enthusing thanks to his father. Faramir forced himself to his feet after his father glared at him. The pain shooting up and down his legs almost made him topple over, but he knew better than to show weakness to his father. He watched as Boromir unwrapped a real sword, just his size, which was even sharp. Faramir cringed. [I'll never understand how Boromir could ever be pleased with such a gift,] he thought, as his brother shouted with glee.
Denethor then turned his piercing eyes to Faramir, and the boy felt as though his father could see exactly what he was thinking, and was not pleased at all. The Steward then held out a box to his younger son. Faramir took a few uncertain steps forward, but he reached a point where he couldn't walk any further, and he fell to the ground. Boromir instantly ran to him, but Denethor just stood where he was, impassive. "Leave him," he said coldly to Boromir. The boy drew back. "If he is naturally weak, then he needs to learn strength. He must get up, and walk here by himself." Faramir stared up into Denethor's hard eyes, hoping and praying for a reprieve from this, but none came. He gathered his strength, and in a minute he was able to stand. The pain ran through his legs, so much that he wobbled, but he would not let himself fall over. Faramir took a few more steps, his legs shaking terribly. He could see Boromir standing behind his father, biting his lip anxiously. [I just have to make it to Boromir. Then I will be all right.]
Faramir managed to take a few more steps, before he fell again. But he pushed himself to his feet quickly, trying not to think on the anguish he was feeling. Eventually, he made it to his father. Boromir enveloped Faramir in a hug. "Good job, little Brother. You're improving." Faramir managed a weak smile. Denethor knelt by his son, who had collapsed on the floor at his feet, and placed the package on Faramir's lap.
"This is for you, and I hope you enjoy it." Faramir slowly unwrapped the gift, and opened the box. Inside lay what was to become his greatest treasure: a book of Sindarin grammar. Faramir had the language learned in six months.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"Faramir?" Aragorn's voice broke through his thoughts. "Faramir?"
"What? What were you saying?" Faramir was floundering, trying desperately not to make a fool of himself, never mind avoid disrespecting the King. "I'm sorry, I missed your question."
Gimli interrupted. "It appears as though you missed the entire conversation." Faramir bowed his head in an attempt to hide his reddening face.
"Never mind, Faramir. We all know that Gimli is enough to put any man to sleep." He and Legolas laughed, while Gimli sat scowling, but matching his friends' laughter in his eyes. "I was just asking what traditions I am required to perform on Midwinter. I should have asked before, but I forgot to. What did Denethor do?"
Faramir thought for a moment. "The holiday was mostly quiet, for it was considered a day of rest, even for the Steward. Father, however, used to hold an open day for petitions, so that any man could come before him privately, seeking the answer to a hard question, or asking advice, or trying to settle a dispute. This usually took most of the day. Since this tradition came from the Kings, it may be wise for you to do the same." Aragorn nodded his head. "Also, in ancient days, the King used to cure the King's evil, but I doubt if anyone even has it in the City, the condition now being so rare. And naturally, the Stewards could not fulfill this obligation, so it hasn't been done for a thousand years. I daresay the people will overlook it if you do not follow this tradition."
"Thank you Faramir. I will hold the day open for petitions, at least. After all, it is a tradition, and those should never be thrown by the wayside," Aragorn said. [I wonder why only some traditions are worth saving,] Faramir thought to himself. He hid a wry smile. [I suppose it's only the traditions that deal with the King.]
"Can we break now, Aragorn? I still haven't gotten my pipe-weed," Gimli asked.
"Yes, I was planning it. Meet back here in a half-hour?" The members of the planning committee nodded their heads in approval, and left the room.
Angel: My first reviewer ever!! *hug* Thanks so much for your comment!! Alas, I despise Denethor. Despise him to the core. And he gets meaner, for two reasons: (1) I'm almost finished with the story, and don't feel like re- writing, and (2) I think that Denethor would have always been cruel to Faramir, at least after Finduilas died. But thanks anyway!! Sorry. Hope you keep reading anyway.
Patty: My second reviewer ever!! *hug* I'm EXTREMELY appreciative of the encouragement. It means a lot to me. Thanks!! When I first came to this website, I was really surprised to see die-hard Faramir fans. I thought I was the only one. It is a cozy feeling to know that you're not alone!! Thanks again.
Please review!! I've so enjoyed reading mine, and I'm really surprised how happy it makes me feel. *sighs contentedly* *pulls out pipe-weed, and blows a smoke ring* I've also discovered that I love responding to them. So - make me a happy person - review!!
Disclaimer: Faramir and his wonderfulness are not mine, and neither is anything else. All must bow to Faramir!! *teehee* __________________________
Chapter Three: Memories of a Wintertime Merry
Legolas and Gimli sat in the same places as they had when Faramir was last there, and the same chair had been placed for him at the foot of the table. He calmly took a seat. Aragorn had not arrived yet, and Faramir greeted Legolas and Gimli warmly. Gimli first brought up the topic. "So, you've had a change of heart? Sleeping in the Steward's rooms?"
Faramir didn't quite know what to say to that. He wanted to explain how he was forced to, but it wasn't his place to talk about a person, never mind a King, behind his back. He tried an answer that would be vague enough so that he could elaborate at a later date if the opportunity was provided. [Or if I'm in a foul enough mood,] he thought wryly to himself. "I am sleeping there, aye."
Legolas's eyes shone with concern. "Not very well, it appears."
"I manage. I hope to travel to Rohan soon, though, and then I will not have any worry on the matter." Faramir had asked Aragorn permission a month ago, and he had granted it, but recent events may have changed his mind.
Aragorn walked into the room and they all rose. Faramir bowed, but Legolas and Gimli simply sat down again. He remained standing until Aragorn finally sat down, as a sign of respect. "Well," he began. "Good afternoon." The others wished him the same. "Well," he said again. "I have some wonderful news. Gimli's mountain folk have started to pack their things - they should be here in about a month. We will then begin the design process. As my official design council -" Legolas hid a smile while Gimli openly harrumphed, causing Aragorn to grin "- I want to start figuring out exactly what all this is going to look like."
Gimli pretended to act official. "If, King Elessar, I may add my humble opinion -"
Legolas couldn't help but say something. "No doubt you will whether or not he gives you leave!" He and Aragorn began to laugh.
Gimli glared at Legolas, but there was merriment in his eyes. "That just shows how valuable my opinion is. Anyway, I think that what the Gate looks like should be left to the dwarves who will build it. They will build one of size, strength, and beauty - I can guarantee that. Give them free rein." He added an afterthought. "And the Elves, of course, can do whatever they like after. But a Gate, even in peacetime, must be made for strength."
Legolas added his agreement. "Well said, Master Dwarf." The trio continued their planning, but Faramir found himself not listening. [It's clear that I'm only here for show. I don't see exactly why all this is being planned now, but it is Aragorn's decision to plan early, I suppose.] Faramir's thoughts began to turn towards the memories from the archives.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Finduilas smiled in bed. "I know you two boys desire to go and play in the snow. You may leave me - I do not mind at all. Just be careful." Boromir and Faramir climbed onto the bed, the latter more slowly. They gave their mother a hug and a kiss. Boromir ran out of the room to get their cloaks. Finduilas hugged Faramir hard. "Be careful, Faramir. Do not stay out too long, for you are so vulnerable to chills. And do not feel as though you must keep up with Boromir. Everyone knows that you have his strength inside you, and you will one day have the opportunity to show it." Faramir nodded his serious face at his mother, and gave her an extra hug. With one last look, he left the room. Finduilas sank back onto the pillows, her own strength spent. Calling the nurse, she pulled her blankets up higher. She spoke strongly to her, and told her to move the bed so that she could watch her sons play in the snow. Eventually, to persuade the woman, she resorted to begging her. The nurse agreed finally, and so Finduilas watched her boys in the courtyard. She fell asleep to the sound of their laughter.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Faramir closed his eyes for a moment to forget the memory. When he opened them, Legolas was casting him a side-glance, while Aragorn and Gimli sat at the table laughing. His eyes met Legolas's, and the Elf seemed to speak with his eyes. [Are you all right?] he seemed to ask. Faramir responded with his own eyes, trying to make them look convincing, but he knew that he wasn't doing a very good job. He sighed. [Too many memories.]
Aragorn and Gimli composed themselves. "Now, let us turn to the next order of business: the Steward's rooms. Faramir, I am sure you will want them to be redecorated." Aragorn smiled coaxingly. "Do you want us to rip down the walls?"
Faramir didn't want to answer. [I don't want to live there at all, you fool!] He felt trapped, though, into answering. He came up with a non- answer. "With all due respect, I think that Eowyn should have a say in what is decided." He couldn't resist a slight dig, for he was still furious about the whole affair, and even more than that, hurt by Aragorn's insensitivity. "We had redecorated before, but now that it will have to be redone, I want it all to be comfortable for her, at least." He stared straight at Aragorn, causing the man to look away for a moment. He took the opportunity to mention his trip to Edoras. "If I can still go to Rohan, I can ask for her opinion, and anything that she wants done." An idea hit him that would eliminate the whole situation for a time. "But it would be even better if we could postpone doing anything to those rooms" - he didn't even refer to them as his own - "until she is here, and can supervise things herself."
Aragorn agreed. "Then it is settled that nothing will be done until she comes back to Minas Tirith for the wedding." The bell-tower began to chime two. "Well, I think that that's certainly enough for this topic. Now to the gardens." As Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli continued their planning, Faramir once more slipped back to his memories, but these were not as pleasing to remember.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"My sons, I know this is the first Midwinter without your mother, my Finduilas," Denethor began. "But we must be grateful for what we have. And we must show that our family can continue on, despite any problems that we may have. I am the Steward of Gondor, and you are my sons. Always remember that." Boromir nodded solemnly, and Faramir followed suit. The family began to eat.
Boromir and Denethor talked quietly about the snow they had had the year before, but Faramir just sat at the table. He often sat in silence while the others talked, especially since his mother had died. Eventually, they finished the meal. Denethor rose, and walked across the room. "It is time to open your gifts. Boromir, this is yours." He held out a long package to the boy, who jumped up to receive it, enthusing thanks to his father. Faramir forced himself to his feet after his father glared at him. The pain shooting up and down his legs almost made him topple over, but he knew better than to show weakness to his father. He watched as Boromir unwrapped a real sword, just his size, which was even sharp. Faramir cringed. [I'll never understand how Boromir could ever be pleased with such a gift,] he thought, as his brother shouted with glee.
Denethor then turned his piercing eyes to Faramir, and the boy felt as though his father could see exactly what he was thinking, and was not pleased at all. The Steward then held out a box to his younger son. Faramir took a few uncertain steps forward, but he reached a point where he couldn't walk any further, and he fell to the ground. Boromir instantly ran to him, but Denethor just stood where he was, impassive. "Leave him," he said coldly to Boromir. The boy drew back. "If he is naturally weak, then he needs to learn strength. He must get up, and walk here by himself." Faramir stared up into Denethor's hard eyes, hoping and praying for a reprieve from this, but none came. He gathered his strength, and in a minute he was able to stand. The pain ran through his legs, so much that he wobbled, but he would not let himself fall over. Faramir took a few more steps, his legs shaking terribly. He could see Boromir standing behind his father, biting his lip anxiously. [I just have to make it to Boromir. Then I will be all right.]
Faramir managed to take a few more steps, before he fell again. But he pushed himself to his feet quickly, trying not to think on the anguish he was feeling. Eventually, he made it to his father. Boromir enveloped Faramir in a hug. "Good job, little Brother. You're improving." Faramir managed a weak smile. Denethor knelt by his son, who had collapsed on the floor at his feet, and placed the package on Faramir's lap.
"This is for you, and I hope you enjoy it." Faramir slowly unwrapped the gift, and opened the box. Inside lay what was to become his greatest treasure: a book of Sindarin grammar. Faramir had the language learned in six months.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"Faramir?" Aragorn's voice broke through his thoughts. "Faramir?"
"What? What were you saying?" Faramir was floundering, trying desperately not to make a fool of himself, never mind avoid disrespecting the King. "I'm sorry, I missed your question."
Gimli interrupted. "It appears as though you missed the entire conversation." Faramir bowed his head in an attempt to hide his reddening face.
"Never mind, Faramir. We all know that Gimli is enough to put any man to sleep." He and Legolas laughed, while Gimli sat scowling, but matching his friends' laughter in his eyes. "I was just asking what traditions I am required to perform on Midwinter. I should have asked before, but I forgot to. What did Denethor do?"
Faramir thought for a moment. "The holiday was mostly quiet, for it was considered a day of rest, even for the Steward. Father, however, used to hold an open day for petitions, so that any man could come before him privately, seeking the answer to a hard question, or asking advice, or trying to settle a dispute. This usually took most of the day. Since this tradition came from the Kings, it may be wise for you to do the same." Aragorn nodded his head. "Also, in ancient days, the King used to cure the King's evil, but I doubt if anyone even has it in the City, the condition now being so rare. And naturally, the Stewards could not fulfill this obligation, so it hasn't been done for a thousand years. I daresay the people will overlook it if you do not follow this tradition."
"Thank you Faramir. I will hold the day open for petitions, at least. After all, it is a tradition, and those should never be thrown by the wayside," Aragorn said. [I wonder why only some traditions are worth saving,] Faramir thought to himself. He hid a wry smile. [I suppose it's only the traditions that deal with the King.]
"Can we break now, Aragorn? I still haven't gotten my pipe-weed," Gimli asked.
"Yes, I was planning it. Meet back here in a half-hour?" The members of the planning committee nodded their heads in approval, and left the room.