"And you are ugly! But when I wake up in the morning, I'll be sober!" --
Winston Churchill, upon being informed that he was drunk
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof.
*****
"Estel, you must apologize to him," Arwen said out of the blue. For three days since the ill-fated dinner Elessar and Faramir had conducted themselves in strictly formal manners, engaging each other in discussion only of the most pressing state manners. Arwen, who had been a casualty of this battle right from the start, could stand it no longer. She loved Elessar more than anything, she was willing to and indeed would die for him, but she also quite liked Faramir, though of course platonically, and should have liked to get to know him better, but this cold war halted her.
"He ought to apologize, not I," Elessar answered. "He looks to be offended."
"You know perfectly well that this entire thing is your fault," Arwen told him quite frankly. "You had no reason to speak of his family in such a manner! I met Boromir, Estel, and he was a fine fellow. You yourself mourned his passing! And perhaps I need remind you of the harsh words you shared with Lord Elrond when you sought to marry me?"
Elessar had by this point been well quenched of his belief. At this time had she wanted to Arwen might well have played puppeteer with him as her doll; however, if he would apologize to Faramir (though he owed her an apology, which over the past few days had been repeated so sincerely, marred only by his anger with Faramir) this whole mess of unhappiness might well just sort itself out.
"Very well, I shall send for him--"
"Go to him," Arwen answered, and, as her husband opened his mouth to protest that he would be unable to find Faramir, she smiled at him and said, "he will be in the library, go on."
Finding no further protests and feeling that perhaps Arwen was right and he did owe Faramir an apology, Elessar made his way to the library, muttering to himself, "Faramir, I. . .no, no, he would never like that. . .Lord Faramir, my conduct. . .Lord Faramir, it is without. . .I regret. . .please forgive. . .gah, is there no proper apology for a man to make!. . .please do not be angry. . .no, he's every right. . ." Such that he did not notice when he entered the library and, having decided upon an address for Faramir, pronounced louder than he had intended, "Lord Faramir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor!"
"Yes?" Faramir was sitting before at a round table with a book open. His grey eyes shot about with disinterest, looking the newly arrived king over in a bored sort of manner. "Is something the matter?"
Realizing that he needed speak then, Elessar said, "I. . .er. . .how are you, Lord, are you well?"
"Quite, thank you, and yourself." It was not a question: Faramir did not truly mean it.
"Weather's been nice."
Faramir sighed; he would not put up with much more of this. "Be off with your circumlocution, will you, so please you!"
Elessar looked blankly at him. "Forgive my ignorance, what does that mean?"
"It means I would have you speak plain; what matter of state brings you to speak with me at this hour?" Faramir knew he was being completely rude and dancing on the wrong edge of the line he ought to toe, but he could not help himself. He had had it with being a good boy, a good man; people walked all over him. Why, one time, he had saved Boromir's skin and naught but a thank-you in return!
/"Boromir?" Faramir coughed. The air was thick with pipesmoke and alcohol smells. Hanging torches and lanterns shed light across the faces of the many men, giving them all a similar, half-lit appearance.
Coming to this place had not been Faramir's own decision. However, he had discovered Boromir missing and known from experience that if no one went to fetch him, he would be unconscious drunken the next morning, when he was due to report back for military call. Why had he gone off drinking again?
Boromir was only nearly a year in the military, but he loved the service. Not as much did he love it, though, as he loved to go out with his friends for a few rounds. The last time Boromir had a weekend off of duty, he had ended up sleeping in a pigpen, having denied to tell his father of his freedom and spent the entire time in the pubs.
He meant well, though. Boromir was just a boy looking to have a good time, so what if he was a little immature? Soon or later he would grow up and not be off drinking so much. "Boromir?" Faramir called again. At thirteen, he knew how to look after himself and, when necessary, his brother.
"Faramir!" There he was, sitting at a table with a group of others, one of whom had pointed out the arrival of Boromir's brother. "You are too young to be here!"
The younger brother scowled, in his majority at thirteen, but said, "Boromir, you must come! Tomorrow you must report and. . ." he could see the his arguments were falling on deaf ears ". . .and Father knows you're out!"/
Sitting in the library, Faramir blinked back tears at the memory. Denethor had not known, but that little fib brought Boromir home. In the morning, when he awoke with a splitting headache before the sun rose to learn that Denethor had not known at all, oh how he had shouted!
"Faramir, what's wrong?" Elessar asked, alarmed. "I only came to apologize to you for the other night, offending you had been my last of intentions."
Faramir shook his head to clear away the unwanted memories. "Nothing is wrong. Of course, your apologize is accepted and forgive me for my earlier rudeness. I would not have taken offense at all, had not. . .had not your words rung true."
"Faramir--"
"I respect my dead and honor my family, of course, I do," Faramir prattled on, "perhaps only my memories are not accurate that they plague me. . .the mind is such a fickle thing. . ."
"Perhaps you are not telling yourself the truth about your feelings," Elessar suggested.
Faramir looked at him, then considered it. "'Twould hurt far less, were in untrue."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Faramir looked out the window to the sun, slowly setting. Dumbly he nodded.
*****
To be continued
Aurora West: Ah, that was a typo, thanks. As for long chapters I really can't manage them, it's just not my style.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed!
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof.
*****
"Estel, you must apologize to him," Arwen said out of the blue. For three days since the ill-fated dinner Elessar and Faramir had conducted themselves in strictly formal manners, engaging each other in discussion only of the most pressing state manners. Arwen, who had been a casualty of this battle right from the start, could stand it no longer. She loved Elessar more than anything, she was willing to and indeed would die for him, but she also quite liked Faramir, though of course platonically, and should have liked to get to know him better, but this cold war halted her.
"He ought to apologize, not I," Elessar answered. "He looks to be offended."
"You know perfectly well that this entire thing is your fault," Arwen told him quite frankly. "You had no reason to speak of his family in such a manner! I met Boromir, Estel, and he was a fine fellow. You yourself mourned his passing! And perhaps I need remind you of the harsh words you shared with Lord Elrond when you sought to marry me?"
Elessar had by this point been well quenched of his belief. At this time had she wanted to Arwen might well have played puppeteer with him as her doll; however, if he would apologize to Faramir (though he owed her an apology, which over the past few days had been repeated so sincerely, marred only by his anger with Faramir) this whole mess of unhappiness might well just sort itself out.
"Very well, I shall send for him--"
"Go to him," Arwen answered, and, as her husband opened his mouth to protest that he would be unable to find Faramir, she smiled at him and said, "he will be in the library, go on."
Finding no further protests and feeling that perhaps Arwen was right and he did owe Faramir an apology, Elessar made his way to the library, muttering to himself, "Faramir, I. . .no, no, he would never like that. . .Lord Faramir, my conduct. . .Lord Faramir, it is without. . .I regret. . .please forgive. . .gah, is there no proper apology for a man to make!. . .please do not be angry. . .no, he's every right. . ." Such that he did not notice when he entered the library and, having decided upon an address for Faramir, pronounced louder than he had intended, "Lord Faramir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor!"
"Yes?" Faramir was sitting before at a round table with a book open. His grey eyes shot about with disinterest, looking the newly arrived king over in a bored sort of manner. "Is something the matter?"
Realizing that he needed speak then, Elessar said, "I. . .er. . .how are you, Lord, are you well?"
"Quite, thank you, and yourself." It was not a question: Faramir did not truly mean it.
"Weather's been nice."
Faramir sighed; he would not put up with much more of this. "Be off with your circumlocution, will you, so please you!"
Elessar looked blankly at him. "Forgive my ignorance, what does that mean?"
"It means I would have you speak plain; what matter of state brings you to speak with me at this hour?" Faramir knew he was being completely rude and dancing on the wrong edge of the line he ought to toe, but he could not help himself. He had had it with being a good boy, a good man; people walked all over him. Why, one time, he had saved Boromir's skin and naught but a thank-you in return!
/"Boromir?" Faramir coughed. The air was thick with pipesmoke and alcohol smells. Hanging torches and lanterns shed light across the faces of the many men, giving them all a similar, half-lit appearance.
Coming to this place had not been Faramir's own decision. However, he had discovered Boromir missing and known from experience that if no one went to fetch him, he would be unconscious drunken the next morning, when he was due to report back for military call. Why had he gone off drinking again?
Boromir was only nearly a year in the military, but he loved the service. Not as much did he love it, though, as he loved to go out with his friends for a few rounds. The last time Boromir had a weekend off of duty, he had ended up sleeping in a pigpen, having denied to tell his father of his freedom and spent the entire time in the pubs.
He meant well, though. Boromir was just a boy looking to have a good time, so what if he was a little immature? Soon or later he would grow up and not be off drinking so much. "Boromir?" Faramir called again. At thirteen, he knew how to look after himself and, when necessary, his brother.
"Faramir!" There he was, sitting at a table with a group of others, one of whom had pointed out the arrival of Boromir's brother. "You are too young to be here!"
The younger brother scowled, in his majority at thirteen, but said, "Boromir, you must come! Tomorrow you must report and. . ." he could see the his arguments were falling on deaf ears ". . .and Father knows you're out!"/
Sitting in the library, Faramir blinked back tears at the memory. Denethor had not known, but that little fib brought Boromir home. In the morning, when he awoke with a splitting headache before the sun rose to learn that Denethor had not known at all, oh how he had shouted!
"Faramir, what's wrong?" Elessar asked, alarmed. "I only came to apologize to you for the other night, offending you had been my last of intentions."
Faramir shook his head to clear away the unwanted memories. "Nothing is wrong. Of course, your apologize is accepted and forgive me for my earlier rudeness. I would not have taken offense at all, had not. . .had not your words rung true."
"Faramir--"
"I respect my dead and honor my family, of course, I do," Faramir prattled on, "perhaps only my memories are not accurate that they plague me. . .the mind is such a fickle thing. . ."
"Perhaps you are not telling yourself the truth about your feelings," Elessar suggested.
Faramir looked at him, then considered it. "'Twould hurt far less, were in untrue."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Faramir looked out the window to the sun, slowly setting. Dumbly he nodded.
*****
To be continued
Aurora West: Ah, that was a typo, thanks. As for long chapters I really can't manage them, it's just not my style.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed!
