Author's note: I am so sorry for not posting this sooner! These weeks have
been absolutely crazy! Especially the Oscars craze! Who would have thought,
11 Oscars for Return of the King!!! Here's the big number 10, everyone!
Please keep reviewing!
Ithilien
"Go." Ordered Faramir quietly in Numenorean, "Don't stand guard at the door."
The guards retreated and shut the door behind them.
Faramir looked at me for a long moment, his sapphire blue flecked with gray eyes boring into me. He took a chair and placed it beside the bed. He sat down and was quiet for a few minutes.
I half sat, half lay beneath the covers, staring intently at the leather diary. Finally, he spoke, "My Rangers tell me that they found you in Ithilien. They say that you passed out when they found you and that you were armed. And yet, you were not well prepared. You had no food, nor water. No weapon save your daggers were at hand."
I watched him impassively with nothing to say.
He thought for a long moment and then asked, "What are you doing here?"
"Mankoi lle irma sint?" I asked in Quenya, saying: why do you want to know?
"Amin dele ten' lle." He said softly: I am worried about you.
"Uuner uma, n'dela no'ta." I retorted: No one does, don't worry about it.
He sighed, "Amin hiraetha, Arwenamin." Said Faramir: I'm sorry, my lady.
There was a long silence. For some reason, I regretted my words. I winced at his apology but remained quiet.
"What are you going to do with me?" I asked, knowing that he would send me back to the White City.
"What would you have me do?" he asked softly. "I must send you back to Minas Tirith, though my heart tells me that it is from there that you flee from. But from what, I do not know. Perhaps you would tell me, but I will not ask it of you."
I pondered these words, finally replying with, "It is true, my lord, I do not want to return to your City. I would go elsewhere."
"And where would this 'elsewhere' be?"
"I know not." I answered truthfully.
"Imladris? Perhaps you miss your home." He said gently.
"I miss my mother." I said without thinking.
"Your mother." he echoed softly.
"She is dead." I stated regretfully.
"It was not of your doing."
"How do you know?" I spat suddenly.
He surveyed me calmly, his dark lashes veiling his blue-gray eyes. "I take my words back, my lady. I had no right to say that. Forgive me."
I checked his eyes, seeing nothing but sweet sincerity, "I shouldn't have lashed at you like that, my lord. You did not know the full story."
He did not ask me to tell him what happened so I did not. It was painful to think of it, let alone speak of it. My finger traced the cover of the leather-bound book, almost afraid of giving it back to Faramir.
His hand neared mine as he touched the diary, fingering it for a moment. I drew my hand away and he picked it up and placed it on the bedside counter once more.
"You read all of it, I suppose." He said finally.
I did not speak, but faced him, my eyes telling him, "Yes."
A flicker of fear passed through his weary face. "What would you have me do?" he asked again.
"With me?" I asked, unsure of what he meant.
He bowed his head in silent acknowledgement.
It was absurd; I couldn't tell him. He wouldn't understand. He was a Captain; he was the Steward's second son. What did he know of dreams and hopes? He had everything he could wish for. He was a Ranger, a Scholar, and a Healer. He was what I had always dreamed to be.
"I...I want to stay."
"Stay in Ithilien?" He said incredulously.
"Yes, my lord."
"Why?"
"To be a Ranger." I breathed.
"There are no female Rangers." He said, like the night we met.
"Everything must have a start."
"You do not know how to fight."
"When you first became a Ranger, did you know how to fight?"
"My lady, this...idea, it's not possible. Girls can't fight. They can't. No one's ever done it."
"It's only impossible until someone does it."
"It's unthinkable. You can't be sure of your ability."
I sighed and he continued, "You have never even lifted a sword. You cannot be sure of your physical strength. You have not proven your skill."
"Have you ever felt like you knew that you could do something, but someone who controlled you, never gave you the opportunity? Have you ever felt so sure of yourself, but you were not given a chance to prove your worth? Haven't you ever felt that when you've finally made the right decision, you only have it snatched away from you?"
My words hit home.
He turned away from me and I couldn't see what he was thinking. Had I hurt him with my words? How could I have?
"Yes." He said finally. "I have felt like that." He turned back to me and I could detect a new glimmer of emotion in his eyes.
I leaned into the pillows, resting my head against them.
"You've heard all that I've wanted to say." I said softly. "Do as you wish, my lord, for you are the Son of Gondor."
He looked at me and frowned, "The truth is, I don't know what to do. I want to give you a chance, but..." he paused, "it's not according with law."
I stared at the ceiling, "Do what you want to do, my lord."
"I will."
I smiled slightly at his remark.
"Why do you want to be a Ranger?" he asked then and there.
"Because I've had dreams..." Faramir stiffened, "And they've shown what I should be. I've always wanted to be a Ranger, to serve my family and Middle-Earth in this way."
"Oh." Said Faramir softly, and he returned his steady gaze to my eyes. "You dream?" he said the two words slowly.
I nodded, eyeing his clenched fist.
"During day or night?"
"Both." I said.
"Do they ever come true?"
"Occasionally. I dream of the past and near future."
"Oh." He sighed.
"My lord, what's wrong? Are the dreams important?" I inquired.
"No. It's nothing."
I nodded, still curious.
He stood, "I will decide what to do in three hours time. The sun has not set yet, but I want you to sleep. I will not risk your condition again. You may leave these chambers tomorrow morning. I will send for you when it is time."
"Thank you, my lord." I said quietly.
"It's been a long day." He sighed, "It won't get any shorter. Sleep well, my lady."
With those words, he left me, shutting the door silently. I could hear his retreating footsteps and his cool voice as the men greeted him. I stared at the door.
Why was he so curious about the dreams? They weren't important, mostly childhood memories. But some were, I remembered. I had seen important things, whether they would be or not.
I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep.
I had things to do tomorrow.
Ithilien
"Go." Ordered Faramir quietly in Numenorean, "Don't stand guard at the door."
The guards retreated and shut the door behind them.
Faramir looked at me for a long moment, his sapphire blue flecked with gray eyes boring into me. He took a chair and placed it beside the bed. He sat down and was quiet for a few minutes.
I half sat, half lay beneath the covers, staring intently at the leather diary. Finally, he spoke, "My Rangers tell me that they found you in Ithilien. They say that you passed out when they found you and that you were armed. And yet, you were not well prepared. You had no food, nor water. No weapon save your daggers were at hand."
I watched him impassively with nothing to say.
He thought for a long moment and then asked, "What are you doing here?"
"Mankoi lle irma sint?" I asked in Quenya, saying: why do you want to know?
"Amin dele ten' lle." He said softly: I am worried about you.
"Uuner uma, n'dela no'ta." I retorted: No one does, don't worry about it.
He sighed, "Amin hiraetha, Arwenamin." Said Faramir: I'm sorry, my lady.
There was a long silence. For some reason, I regretted my words. I winced at his apology but remained quiet.
"What are you going to do with me?" I asked, knowing that he would send me back to the White City.
"What would you have me do?" he asked softly. "I must send you back to Minas Tirith, though my heart tells me that it is from there that you flee from. But from what, I do not know. Perhaps you would tell me, but I will not ask it of you."
I pondered these words, finally replying with, "It is true, my lord, I do not want to return to your City. I would go elsewhere."
"And where would this 'elsewhere' be?"
"I know not." I answered truthfully.
"Imladris? Perhaps you miss your home." He said gently.
"I miss my mother." I said without thinking.
"Your mother." he echoed softly.
"She is dead." I stated regretfully.
"It was not of your doing."
"How do you know?" I spat suddenly.
He surveyed me calmly, his dark lashes veiling his blue-gray eyes. "I take my words back, my lady. I had no right to say that. Forgive me."
I checked his eyes, seeing nothing but sweet sincerity, "I shouldn't have lashed at you like that, my lord. You did not know the full story."
He did not ask me to tell him what happened so I did not. It was painful to think of it, let alone speak of it. My finger traced the cover of the leather-bound book, almost afraid of giving it back to Faramir.
His hand neared mine as he touched the diary, fingering it for a moment. I drew my hand away and he picked it up and placed it on the bedside counter once more.
"You read all of it, I suppose." He said finally.
I did not speak, but faced him, my eyes telling him, "Yes."
A flicker of fear passed through his weary face. "What would you have me do?" he asked again.
"With me?" I asked, unsure of what he meant.
He bowed his head in silent acknowledgement.
It was absurd; I couldn't tell him. He wouldn't understand. He was a Captain; he was the Steward's second son. What did he know of dreams and hopes? He had everything he could wish for. He was a Ranger, a Scholar, and a Healer. He was what I had always dreamed to be.
"I...I want to stay."
"Stay in Ithilien?" He said incredulously.
"Yes, my lord."
"Why?"
"To be a Ranger." I breathed.
"There are no female Rangers." He said, like the night we met.
"Everything must have a start."
"You do not know how to fight."
"When you first became a Ranger, did you know how to fight?"
"My lady, this...idea, it's not possible. Girls can't fight. They can't. No one's ever done it."
"It's only impossible until someone does it."
"It's unthinkable. You can't be sure of your ability."
I sighed and he continued, "You have never even lifted a sword. You cannot be sure of your physical strength. You have not proven your skill."
"Have you ever felt like you knew that you could do something, but someone who controlled you, never gave you the opportunity? Have you ever felt so sure of yourself, but you were not given a chance to prove your worth? Haven't you ever felt that when you've finally made the right decision, you only have it snatched away from you?"
My words hit home.
He turned away from me and I couldn't see what he was thinking. Had I hurt him with my words? How could I have?
"Yes." He said finally. "I have felt like that." He turned back to me and I could detect a new glimmer of emotion in his eyes.
I leaned into the pillows, resting my head against them.
"You've heard all that I've wanted to say." I said softly. "Do as you wish, my lord, for you are the Son of Gondor."
He looked at me and frowned, "The truth is, I don't know what to do. I want to give you a chance, but..." he paused, "it's not according with law."
I stared at the ceiling, "Do what you want to do, my lord."
"I will."
I smiled slightly at his remark.
"Why do you want to be a Ranger?" he asked then and there.
"Because I've had dreams..." Faramir stiffened, "And they've shown what I should be. I've always wanted to be a Ranger, to serve my family and Middle-Earth in this way."
"Oh." Said Faramir softly, and he returned his steady gaze to my eyes. "You dream?" he said the two words slowly.
I nodded, eyeing his clenched fist.
"During day or night?"
"Both." I said.
"Do they ever come true?"
"Occasionally. I dream of the past and near future."
"Oh." He sighed.
"My lord, what's wrong? Are the dreams important?" I inquired.
"No. It's nothing."
I nodded, still curious.
He stood, "I will decide what to do in three hours time. The sun has not set yet, but I want you to sleep. I will not risk your condition again. You may leave these chambers tomorrow morning. I will send for you when it is time."
"Thank you, my lord." I said quietly.
"It's been a long day." He sighed, "It won't get any shorter. Sleep well, my lady."
With those words, he left me, shutting the door silently. I could hear his retreating footsteps and his cool voice as the men greeted him. I stared at the door.
Why was he so curious about the dreams? They weren't important, mostly childhood memories. But some were, I remembered. I had seen important things, whether they would be or not.
I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep.
I had things to do tomorrow.