"Rivendell?" Finduireth whispered with shock, tugging nervously at the sleeve of her long-sleeved, high-cut black velvet dress, upon the front of which lay the emblem of Gondor embroidered in silver. As mistress of the Houses of Healing, she had been delayed by the exhausting work to be done and directed there after the end of the battle earlier that week, leaving no time for her to regroup with her cousins. Needing time to dress and affix her hair in the complicated knot, the slim silver circlet resting on her head, she had newly arrived at the night's banquet, which had been in progress for a good hour or so. All three were dressed officially for the occasion, her cousins wearing their officer's garments; long black velvet sleeveless jerkins with the Gondorian emblem embroidered in silver on the front, the collar and tied front opening trimmed in fine silver, red, and dark blue embroidery. While Faramir wore a dark blue velvet high-necked, long-sleeved tunic marked with embroidered gold leaves underneath his jerkin, Boromir wore a red one. Since it was a banquet rather a military ceremony, they wore no armor or hauberks, though they carried short swords, more for decoration rather than necessity. With black boots and breeches to complete the ensembles, and she in her formal dress, all three formed the very picture of the highest of Gondorian nobility.
Merethrond, The Hall of Feasts, was decorated for the victorious occasion, its marble columns wreathed with white and puple flowers. It proved a place of joy and beauty this night, food piled high on the tables, candlelight sparkling and music drifting through the air. Hundreds of noblemen and women, as well as soldiers and their wives and consorts wandered to and fro, congratulating each other on the feats of the past week, content to be in such great company and glad to have such honor showered on them by their Steward. Occasions such as these had become a rarity as the shadow from the East grew and deepened, the victories coming fewer and far between. But for now, all focused on the carefree festivities.
It did not match the moods of Denethor's children or his grand-neice, for none, save themselves, knew how heavy their hearts now were.
"Rivendell?" she questioned again, not believing it.
"Yes," Boromir replied, as though not quite accepting it himself.
From the moment Finduireth entered Merethrond, she looked for her cousins among the crowd. Not finding them, she gave a formal, but distant greeting her grand-uncle. She realized she was being unfathomably ridiculous and juvenile for still holding anger at him over the events in Osgiliath earlier that week; her refusal to apologize first, her pride threatening to outweigh all good sense, made her come off as a coward. Admitting this to herself, she resolved to set things right soon. But now was not the time in such a public forum. Perhaps after the celebration.
Greeting Denethor's advisors and their wives as well, she worked her way through the hall, making the usual rounds and salutations. Upon seeing her complete this, Boromir approached her, silently bowing, placing a glass of berry wine in her hand and guiding her through the crowd to a spot on the sidelines of the celebration, by the wall behind a great marble column. Judging by the grim look on his face, she knew something was wrong. She was thankful for the rare stolen moment away from everyone else to find out what could be the source of such trouble in his heart.
Huddled deep in conversation, between sips of his wine, he told her everything of what passed between himself and her uncle at Osgiliath. She listened, face growing grim and paler by the moment, unable to believe such circumstances had come to be. By the time he finished, her throat had tightened as she sighed in deep frustration.
"I…assume you told Faramir of this?" she questioned in a shaky voice.
"He was the first to know."
"Good. You know…he was the first to have the…"
"Dreams? Yes, he told me of his first one and every time thereafter whenever they returned," Boromir replied grimly. His yes darted away from hers in agitation as he brought his hand to his temple, as though to relieve a headache.
"Are you well?" she asked, immediately noticing his discomfort.
"Yes…no," he replied quickly, changing his answers at seeing the doubt written on her face. None of the three had ever been able to hide anything from each other.
"Fin…?"
"Yes?"
"I…started having the…dreams as well."
Here eyes widened at the admission. She knew Faramir had dreamed it roughly two weeks ago, the night before the attack on Osgiliath. He told her the words, the haunting rhyme as it came to him in the dream. And soon she found she had become obsessed with it, attempting to no avail to research it in the archives. At first she blamed the obsession on her anxiety for her cousins' safety, on her own efforts to distract herself from thinking too much on whether or not they would return from the battle. That is until Boromir revealed the dream to them both a few days into the attack. He had returned to Minas Tirith later that week to meet with his father and brother in counsel and to secure additional troops. There, all three discussed it amongst each other the night before the meeting with the Steward the next day. It was then Faramir decided to inform her grand-uncle of it. But knowing Boromir's abilities lay elsewhere, she did not expect him to begin having the dreams as Faramir had done.
"Seek for the Sword that was broken," he began to say, as though in a trance. "In Imladris it dwells; There shall be counsels taken/Stronger than Morgul-spells. There shall be shown a token/That Doom is near at hand, For Isildur's Bane shall waken, And the Halfling forth shall stand."
"When did you start?" she asked, voice wavering and taking a long gulp of her wine after a long silence at the shock of what just transpired.
"Starting a little over a week ago, later on the same night we discussed Faramir's dream."
"Of course you told uncle of your having them in your council?"
"Which is why he insists I go."
"But you are journeying to Rivendell, not Imladris…"
"Faramir quickly realized 'Imladris' is the ancient term for Rivendell, which father confirmed."
"Oh. I see," she replied slowly, setting down her glass.
"Faramir wished to go in my stead," Boromir continued, "he being the one with the dreams first. But father would not allow it, refusing him immediately."
"I am not surprised," she replied, frowning.
"It goes beyond principle; best he not go," Boromir continued quickly. "The road is far too dangerous for him to journey alone, and I know you wish no harm to come to him…"
"He wishes you to go alone, without a company?! I wish no harm to come to either of you!" she replied with alarm, taking his hand in both of hers. "Why not send out a small company with one of your or Faramir's lieutenants? It would be safer with many rather than just one. You are needed here, both of you, with your people…with us!"
"Ah, but this trip is for the sake of them all, don't you see?" Boromir replied with a tense smile. "It could be the key to Sauron's utter defeat. And you know such a thing is far greater than any of us. But also, father wishes to keep it a secret," Boromir continued, dropping his voice.
"A secret? It is only a journey to see the Elves, seek their council on this dream, this rhyme. Surely, all one would have to do is send back word…"
"There is far more to it than that, little cousin," Boromir said with a mirthless laugh. Her eyes narrowed in concentration as she let go of him and they both finished their glasses, placing them on the tray of servant who passed. She picked up two more glasses for them, handing one to Boromir as she gulped down the other one. They remained silent for a while to ensure no other passersby would hear them. Setting her glass down and wringing her hands, her heart grew heavier as she tried to discern his meaning.
"Are you not allowed to speak of it? Does Faramir know?" she rushed out.
"Yes but he does know, for I told him immediately, though he confided in me he was able to determine it when Mithrandir came here to city to research the archives."
"Yes. I remember, though I regret I was unable to see Mithrandir at the time…"
"Well, Gandalf was inquiring on specific things as Faramir told me. The archives…of Isildur."
"Isildur, as in Isildur's Bane as the dream speaks? The great kings who came over the sea?" she said, eyebrow arching in bewilderment.
"Yes…Isildur's Bane," he repeated as her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Forgive me, but I do not understand…"
"Which is why we all have to discuss this further," he began as one of his lieutenants approached, ambling up behind her.
"Here I have found you, luckily both of you! Warden of the White Tower! Lady Finduireth! I congratulate you in our victory!" the dark-haired soldier said with a lopsided smile, bowing low in an exaggerated fashion that gave away his pleasure in the drink that night.
"Thank you sir, though the honor belongs to my cousins," Finduireth replied turning to face him and automatically going into a deep curtsy, forcing herself to smile as he rose from the bow. She looked sideways at Boromir, eyes silently begging him relieve them of the situation. Seeing her reaction and agreeing wholeheartedly, Boromir returned to formalities as taught to him through years of training.
"I thank you, Thaenor, Soldier of Gondor!" he replied, also forcing himself to smile. Finduireth quickly moved to the background to allow her cousin to conduct his business, not to mention he would prove better at getting rid of their interloper.
"The honor is yours, my liege. I only follow your orders!" the soldier replied jubilantly.
"That for which I am grateful," Boromir said, clapping the soldier on the back.
"Surely, you cannot deny us a toast? Your men are waiting on the floor…"
"And I shall accompany you. How can I deny my men?!" Boromir replied with fondness. "Cousin," he said turning to her, taking her hand and bowing slightly in formal goodbye, "I take my leave of you." Leaning in and kissing her brow, he whispered "Meet me in awhile, in the back garden, by the Lebethron tree." Leading his man away, he looked back over his shoulder at her, mouthing "Find Faramir!" Nodding in understanding, she turned to do her task.
Glancing around the crowded hall, Finduireth couldn't help but frown. Apparently, all of Minas Tirith had turned out for the festivities. Though she certainly didn't blame them for attending, such large numbers would make it difficult for her to find Faramir. "Well," she thought, "'Tis nothing to do but start searching." Granted, she'd always hated large crowds, preferring her own solitude or company with a few chosen friends. But now was not the time to indulge her odd habits and anti-social tendencies. She had to find Faramir. Fortunately, at least she would have a chance to approach the immense dining table located in the center of the room. Stacked high with various delicacies, all equally tempting, she made her way over to it, choosing a few and placing them on the small saucer handed to her by one of the servants. "Once can never accuse him of being scant with his guests," she thought of her uncle as she licked the sugar off her fingers from one of the fruit-filled pastries. It had been a long time since there was a reason for such celebrations. And she was glad to be a part of it, especially after the grueling week at the Houses of Healing.
Scanning the room again in her search, her grim thoughts were quickly replaced by fairer ones as she picked out a familiar face in the crowd. Setting down her plate and hurriedly making her way to the far side of the hall, she waved gaily at the tall black-haired woman surrounded by a bevy of other guests. Immediately noticing her actions, the woman returned the gesture with a bright smile, quickly motioning for Finduireth to hurry to her.
"I thought I might never catch up with you!" the woman replied, another smile lighting up her shockingly beautiful features and making her azure-blue eyes sparkle as Finduireth approached. "I thought you might go and do and your typical skulking about the edges of the crowd," she continued with a teasing wink as she took Finduireth's hands in her own and leaned in to kiss her on one first cheek and then the other in familiar greeting.
"I must say, my dear, you look wonderful. Were that Elbereth to grant everyone such a gift!" she continued with a tittering laugh. Finduireth couldn't help but chuckle at the words of obvious flattery. But it was to the least to be expected of her friend, for she always had such a way with words. Her ability to make everyone feel as though they were the center of her attention always proved the key to her excellent reputation. And ever since Finduireth could remember, it proved a wonderful contrast to her own more withdrawn personality.
"And you look as beautiful as a new dawn, Ireilas," she replied truthfully with a wry grin as Ireilas' eyes widened with amusement.
"You flatter me," Ireilas cooed in agreement. "Apparently, such eloquence runs in the family… I assume you have met everyone at one time or another?" she said with a wave of her hand around the crowd of mostly women who surrounded her. Finduireth nodded, greeting each with formal bow. Nearly all of the women were well known to and good acquaintances of hers, they being the wives various soldiers and a few of the Rangers. The men she knew as either Boromir's or Faramir's lieutenants. She had grown up with most of them as a result. Smiling and nodding back her, they resumed carrying on their talk of the city and important bits of gossip. After a while and with some of her usual humorously clever words, Ireilas shooed them away.
"So," she began, immediately taking Finduireth by the arm and guiding her into a less crowded area so they might have a little privacy. "You obviously have much to say judging by your heavy heart. Speak," she all but commanded, her voice taking on a far more serious tone than the tittering one she previously used while in other, less familiar company.
"And how are you?" Finduireth replied, ignoring the question. "How is little Caelin?" she continued, referring to Ireilas' 4-year-old son. "It has been too long since I've had a chance to see him…"
"Oh no you will not," Ireilas quickly said, her tone still serious and effectively cutting her off. "No attempts to be wily and change the subject," she continued, a grin coming to her face. "Something weighs heavily on your mind. I can see it, so out with it."
Finduireth sighed, taking two glasses of berry cordial off of a passing tray, passing one to her friend and quickly gulping her own down. No one could ever get much of anything past Ireilas. Whether or not it was because of her being six years older or the result of other perceptive gifts, she had never been able to ascertain. It could have easily been the latter, especially considering Ireilas' parents were from Belfalas and of high blood. Her parents' lineage had crossed before, with her father's grandfather being the youngest brother of Aglahad, a former Prince of Dol Amroth. Her mother's people had moved from Bay of Belfalas to Dol Amroth some hundreds years ago to escape the Kin-strife, mingling with others in Imrazôr's line as well. Their good breeding showed in their children; Ireilas, her older brother Irelan, as well as her younger brother Ireliar were exceedingly striking, their tall graceful figures, black hair, azure-blue eyes and fair skin creating an attractive picture. Their decorous personalities tempered by their odd sense of humor certainly did not hurt either. All were considered prime marriage material. But the hearts of such spouse-seekers were quickly stayed, for all had married relatively young, Ireilas being the last one some five years ago. Her husband Cairborn was one of Faramir's Ranger company. Her brothers were in Boromir's company, with Irelan becoming a captain a year ago. Finduireth had been Ireilas' dearest friend from the time she was ten, she becoming Ireilas' apprentice at that age in the Houses of Healing. Being raised with the boys, it proved invaluable to have the friendship of what was the equivalent of an elder sister. And Ireilas kept such a relationship close to her heart.
"Unfortunately it has been quite boring, for better or worse," Finduireth shrugged, still avoiding the subject at hand. "There is really nothing to discu…"
"Aye, there is," Ireilas cut her off again. "That's why you were standing there over in the corner, looking forlorn and worried after Boromir left you. And considering it was him talking to you, and that I have known him for at least as long as I have known you, I highly doubt he said something offensive or cruel. Hence, it must be some event weighing on your mind."
Cutting straight to the matter at hand, like a well-placed dagger to the heart had always been Ireilas' method of operation. Finduireth rarely begrudged it.
"Look," she said, absentmindedly playing with her glass as she thought of telling all that had passed. "It is just, well…tonight is just such a rare occurrence…and I am out of my element, 'tis all," she lied. A better time would come to unload her worries. And it would not do to ruin someone else's enjoyment of tonight.
Ireilas looked at her for a moment, her eyes scanning her face, brow furrowing in a combination of confusion and worry. Well, it would be no matter now; she would get it out of her eventually she hoped. Her face quickly going back to its usual look of general detachment, she continued.
"The sin of omission has always been your specialty," she said nonchalantly so that it would come out as more a statement of fact rather than an insult. "But considering the situation," Ireilas continued, eyes quickly darting over to where Boromir stood chuckling in the midst of his men as he raised his glass in another toast, "I assume it has to do with some sort of affair of state."
"To say the least, yes," Finduireth replied resolutely after a long silence. "Do not begrudge it…"
"I do not," Ireilas replied truthfully. "It is the same as when I cannot tell you of Cairborn's activities. Considering the dark times, one could not ask of any less."
"You forgive too much, Ireilas."
"You assume too much. I simply have my priorities in the right place," she replied, face brightening with a smile as she grabbed another glass of wine off the tray, offering it to Finduireth. "Besides, I will find out eventually, assuming the news is not too dangerous…"
"And now, you give yourself too much credit."
"Do I?" Ireilas said returning Findureth's wry smile.
"We shall see. Speaking of which, have you seen Faramir?" Finduireth quickly said, changing the subject and sipping her drink.
"You know, I actually think I may have," Ireilas replied, standing up on her tiptoes so she could properly scan the crowd. "Ah, of course. There he is!" she said, gesturing with her glass towards the back of the hall. "And my husband and brother-in-law Anborn are with him, no doubt ready to cause him trouble," she said with a falsely put-upon sigh.
"I expect no less of them both," Finduireth laughed. "Apparently, they cannot help but cause all sorts of 'trouble' for themselves and anyone else in their paths, especially when together," Finduireth replied, eyeing the swarm of women quickly making themselves over to where the three men stood. "Judging from the look of things, I think I will have to go rescue Faramir," she finished with mock concern, squeezing her friend's hand in goodbye.
"Rescue, eh?" Ireilas replied as she intently watched the rest of the women who apparently enjoyed being very courteous to the three men. Of course Cairborn was all but ignoring them as usual, unlike his brother, who seemed to be having the time of his life, while Faramir treated them as he would any other with his usual courteous concern. "You may trust that innocent face and dulcet voice," Ireilas continued. "But I have lived long enough to know better; Faramir is more than capable of causing plenty of 'trouble' all by his lonesome, as you can well see," she retorted with knowing wink. " I highly doubt he needs rescue."
"'Oh, I did not say he was incapable of defending himself. But we've quite a bit to discuss. After that, he will be quite free to get back into whatever trouble he wishes. Hence the rescuing for the time being," Finduireth countered.
"Humph. It will be my husband that needs rescuing, especially when Faramir begins drawing his long, complicated conclusions between our time and another one of his beloved tales of lore," Ireilas said with feigned irritation. "There is a reason why books and manuscripts belong in libraries and not forever memorized in the heads of the ridiculously talkative!"
"Do not begrudge the wise their scholarly pursuits. You might actually learn something worth storing in that empty head of yours," she replied with a wink.
"This coming from a woman who still hasn't memorized the lines of the Kings, yes?"
"I know not of what you speak! Now, if you'll excuse me…"
"Fine," Ireilas replied, rolling her eyes with mock disdain.
"Very well," Finduireth replied with a chuckle. "We will continue this later. Until then?"
"Aye. And until then just try to remember that Eldacar comes before Arantar."
For Faramir, it had been a long night, and he was want to slip away from the noise and chatter of the hall. While he was used to such celebrations as any steward-son of Gondor would be, having grown up with them all his life, he still found time alone or at least with a small group of actual friends preferable to the great number of faces that seemed to press into him from all sides. And while his father proved too busy with official duties that night to worry him, allowing Faramir some small bit of independence, he had yet to find time to break away from the crowd and seek out his brother and cousin. Usually, they would at least meet, if only for a little, huddled deep in conversation in some corner, chattering away as though world around them didn't exist. But tonight, his mind had been busy with other things, for they could little afford to let this victory slip through their hands. Not to mention the pressing matters that still hung on his mind and in his heart as a result of the conversation he had with Boromir earlier that week.
Rivendell.
The word still haunted Faramir, ate away at his mind and heart as he thought of the long months ahead without his brother in the city. Soon, Boromir would leave, facing the treacherous road alone, leaving his people to seek out the secret counsel with the elves. It would not be the same with his beloved brother gone for such a long time, most likely leaving him to take charge of both the soldiers in the city as well his usual troop of Rangers. Soon, he would have no one with such depths of experience from which to seek advice, and one less person with whom he could freely discuss the growing military matters and affairs of state plaguing his homeland. He knew in his heart he was capable of leading the troops in a rather satisfactory fashion. But the coming absence of one of the two people he most trusted and found strength in gnawed at him in a way in that he knew would result in a constant heaviness of the mind and heart. Such was the case this night, for the gloomy prospects were all he could find himself focusing on, even in the middle of the hall. Not even the chatter of his father's advisors and the various congratulations from the numerous ladies seeking to praise his efforts of the last few weeks could distract him from his train of thought.
"Sir, you appear quite positively bored out of your mind," said the gravelly, if somewhat sarcastic voice at his left.
"By Eru, I'll take a gander you're right. I 'spect all this political talk has taken a bit out 'o him, don't you think?" a lighter, almost laughing voice replied to his right.
"I would bet on it. Frankly, looks as though the cap'n, s'well as myself, would rather be out in the field then among this chattering bunch."
"Though he does not seem to mind the chatterings of a pretty face."
"Aye, but who in their right mind would…well…mind? But still, the company in the field is better..."
"You lie, brother! Everyone 'round here knows you're only present for the food and the women!" the other one chuckled back.
"Like you're here for the drinking and merriments, you lay-about?" the former replied sardonically.
"You slander me!"
"You slander yourself just fine without any sort of assistance from me."
Thoughts swiftly reeling back to the present, Faramir found he couldn't help but smile at the all too true words and easily recognizable banter bouncing back and forth about him. Smoothly excusing himself from the conversations he carried on with the nobles, advisors and ladies surrounding him, he turned to face his detractors. His own smile broadened when he saw who addressed him with such frankness. He could always depend on these two to break the all-too-familiar cycle of melancholy currently invading his mind.
As always, Anborn seemed able to read his Captain like an open book. The same proved true with his elder brother, Cairborn. But that was the least to be expected considering both men had been Rangers of Ithilien in Faramir's service for over a decade. Cairborn, the same age as Faramir, with Anborn only a year younger, had proven the more obviously humorous of the two. However, Anborn was not without his own gifts, his usual and often sardonic observations bringing a smile to those around him. Such dark humor proved fitting considering his perilous occupation. Both men's love and admiration for their captain was evident, for they had served him well in the field. Anborn, ever observant and meticulous, proved an extraordinary tracker. Cairborn, a master of swordplay and other arms, had saved his fellow Rangers in many a tight spot. Jointly, their intelligent irreverence countered their captain's more passionate yet guarded character, resulting in their forming a deep friendship with Faramir.
Cairborn, tall and built broadly, with light brown hair and brown eyes, was the more handsome of the two. His looks were like those of his mother, who had come from Aldburg in Rohan. He had married young, to his sweetheart of many years, Ireilas. And Faramir was glad of it, having been on the receiving end of Ireilas' hospitality and excellent cooking, a welcome thing for the bachelor. Anborn, with his darker hair and matching green eyes, tall but a ways more lean, was quite popular with the ladies. Initially, one would never guess it if they were to judge only by his tough demeanor and sarcastic wit. But such qualities surprisingly enough made it so. He had never married, completely content to "ramble," as he called it. And he was never one to spurn the advances of any comely feminine grace, no matter its rank or station.
Clad in the brown and green uniform of the Ranger, Anborn cast a skeptical eye about the room, only taking note of the chatter and the well dressed women just beyond Faramir.
"Extraordinary, how they seem to talk of nothing of themselves," Anborn quipped, though he cast an appraising look at the dark-haired beauty who stood just beyond Faramir.
"And of themselves talking of themselves," Cairborn added.
"Is that even possible?" Anborn countered.
"Judging by your bored expression, yes," Cairborn finished heartily, drinking the last bit of his wine. They were of relatively high noble blood, their father's people originally having come to Ithilien from Pelargir countless generations ago (though they left Ithilien and settled in Minas Tirith after the last Haradrim invasion). However, the brothers retained some of the rolling Rohirric accent of their mother. They also shared her general disregard for the nobility; she was a daughter of one of Thengel's marshals, her nobleman Gondorian husband having loved her without question or doubt. But she had always disliked what she viewed as the exceedingly haughty Gondorian aristocracy. In turn, the brothers were only too happy to continue that tradition, preferring to show their love for Gondor and its greatest city through their determined protection of it whilst in service their trusted captain. A lifetime commitment to feats on the field held far more appeal than the protocol of the court.
"We are quite cheeky tonight, no?" Faramir asked, lopsided smile on his face.
"I blame the wine," Anborn replied.
"I blame the food," Cairborn countered.
"I blame you both," Faramir added, chuckling and clapping them on the back as he led them towards the great table in the middle of room. It was laden high and food and drink and all helped themselves to further refreshment. Retreating, they found an empty place on the sidelines, talking amongst themselves of the events of the last few days.
Seeing Cairborn's increasingly rosy face and hearing his chatter steadily speed up to become more garbled, Faramir couldn't help it as an easy grin came to his face again.
"Are you drunk?" he asked the Cairborn innocently, though there was a mischievous glint in his eye.
"Aye, cap'n," Anborn replied flatly, though with a crooked grin. "He's bound to collapse in a few moments, I take it…or at least start singing some bawdy tavern song at the top of his lungs. What's your favorite? Itches in Me Britches? Or My Lady's Beauteous Belfalas Box?"
"That…is foul! And I am not…erhm…not…uh…" Cairborn slurred.
"Drunk?" Anborn retorted.
"Yes…yes, that's…it!"
"You are drunk then," Anborn replied matter-of-factly.
"Slander!"
"Fact."
"You mock me, sir?!"
"I state only truth. And the truth is, you sir, are drunk. Though with this crowd of prattling, proud folk," Anborn continued dryly, eyes scanning the room once again. "I don't blame you. In fact, cap'n, judging by the general sway of your cousin over yonder, I'd say she looks positively intoxicated as well."
Faramir's eyes went wide with bewilderment and couldn't help but laugh at Anborn's words as he looked to his cousin approaching them. Yes, she was swaying ever-so-slightly.
"Better not stand here laughin' at me, m'lord. She's right liable to stumble over her own feet rather soon," the Ranger continued, raising an incredulous eyebrow as Finduireth made her way through the crowd. She reached Anborn first, and the Ranger gave her a curt nod of welcome as she stopped in front of him.
"M'Lady. You look well," Anborn said evenly in greeting.
"Cairborn! It is a pleasure to see you!" Finduireth replied, giving a slight curtsy. "How is…your wife? Your children? It's a pity Ireilas could not make it, Cairborn, for I wished to see her," she continued, for Cairborn's wife was one of her oldest and closest friends.
"Ah, she is fine. In fact, they all are wonderful, wherever they may be," Anborn replied smoothly.
"Oh! 'Wherever they may be?"" she repeated surprised and slowly, trying to keep her words in the right order. "Have you…lost them?"
"No, M'Lady. It is quite difficult to loose something one does not posses," Anborn continued with a grin.
"How…erhm…could you lose…Ireilas, Cairborn?"
"Oh it is quite simple, Lady. One minute they are there, the next they are not. It is quite a neat trick that I hope to show you one day," he replied effortlessly, giving a quick wink to Faramir, who grinned in response, standing back and deciding to the let it run its course. By Eru, he found he could no longer keep count of how many times he had told her to curb her enthusiasm for…more potent refreshment.
"Well…that does sound quite…interesting. You will have to show me someday," Finduireth replied slowly, brow creasing in confusion.
"Aye, I look forward to it," Anborn replied, mouth twitching with beginnings of laughter. Quickly regaining his composure, he turned to Faramir and bowed. "We take our leave of you both" he said loudly, taking Cairborn by the arm. Cairborn, struggling to keep his hand steady as not to spill the fresh drink his hand, smiled brightly, swaying into his own bow, which Faramir and Finduireth returned. Looking to Cairborn, she said, "It was a pleasure to see you, Anborn."
"Yes," Cairborn replied, frowning in confusion as he tried to remember the name of the person who addressed him. "You as well…my…Lady," he smiled again. Lady. Yes, that had to be her name. Where in the name of Eru was his wife? He hoped she looked just as exquisite as she did when they'd arrived. As a result, it was a wonder she had been able to convince him to leave the comfort of their bedroom to attend the festivities. In fact, he could certainly think of thousands of other activities they could be undertaking at this very moment in that room. And knowing Ireilas, judging from how difficult a time he had trying to convince her to leave as well, she would certainly be game for such undertakings.
Without further ado, the Rangers left the two, though not first without Cairborn smacking squarely into the edge of the column directly behind them. It seemed to have no effect on him though, which was not at all surprising given his circumstances.
After all, it was but a small price to pay for such a jovial occasion.
Well, that settled it. She was drunk.
But it didn't look as though she would do anything too terribly embarrassing. Well, not so embarrassing as attempt to address anyone by name again, hopefully. So essentially, Faramir was gladdened when Finduireth approached him. However, judging by the worry he immediately saw tugging at her heart, he knew her interruption would most likely not be the result of the greatest of circumstances. Curtsying to the group of advisors he found had gathered around them again upon Anborn and Cairborn's departure, she begged off his presence with a joke and grin in her usual understated way, leading him away from them.
"I need…to see you in the…back garden, by the Lebethron…tree. Both of us…need to see you!" she said surreptitiously. Or at least it would have been surreptitious, had she not addressed him so loudly. Suddenly another group his lieutenants appeared, eager to give their congratulations to their captain. They talked for a while, she, moving to the background and remaining relatively quiet, save for an occasional bit of laughter at a quip or murmur of agreement to a proposed question. Laughing politely at one of his lieutenant's jokes again, taking two wine glasses off the tray of a passing servant, she handed another glass to him, beginning her own drink. Taking another gulp of it and setting the empty cup back on another passing tray within two sips, she picked up another full glass.
As the group drifted away and Faramir took his leave of them, he turned to look at her, eyes narrowing and lopsided grin coming to his face as she drank the glass she'd just picked up from another passing tray.
"And how many of those have you had, cousin?" he asked. Seeing her face flushed and eyes shining, though she was not smiling, he already knew the answer to her question.
"Not…nearly enough considering…"
"You haven't finished the new one in your hand?"
"Yes," she replied after a bit, looking at him hard. "And I'm not…drunk…"
"Not yet, but you won't be able to walk straight in about a half-hour," he teased.
"It doesn't matter much…anyway. No…one's paying attention."
"I am. And I'm sure Boromir is…"
"No. No he's not. He's over there…having a toast…with his soldiers," she replied quickly, turning almost a little too much and pointing out a smiling Boromir doing just that. Turning back around to face him, she over-spun again, her actions barely noticeable to any but him. Well, except for Anborn, whose years of experience simply would not allow anything to escape his astute notice. But what more could a captain ask of the best tracker of his company?
"I'm not going to tell you to stop…" Faramir continued.
"Then don't," she said petulantly, albeit a little slowly. "But with all haste," she continued in a determined voice, "We need to talk to you…By the, uh…"
"Lebethron tree, I know. Allow me a half-hour."
"Don't know if I…can. You…said I won't be able…to walk straight…by then," she teased, smile suddenly coming to her face. Suddenly she frowned again, leaning against the column and taking a few deep breaths. "Really, we…all need to talk...without delay," she finished.
"Okay, Fin. I'll be there within a half-hour."
"Thank you."
"Don't. Say. It."
"Fine, fine," he said with a grin, raising his hands in surrender. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed something.
"Look, there's Raeliar! Think you may be able keep up a conversation with him for the next half-hour?" he asked. Spinning around, she saw their dear friend making his way through the crowd. When she turned back to Faramir, she had a genuine smile on her face.
"I am drunk…not stupid," she said with a snort.
"I thought you said you weren't drunk?" he said with a smirk.
"You knew…I was lying!" she smirked back.
"I did," he replied.
"But as it stands: was…I really lying if I knew that…that you knew I wasn't lying?" she continued, raising her eyebrow in question. "After…all, you…clear sight…we both can…and my knowing that…you can, means that I know…you would know…the truth…"
"That I would," he agreed.
"And now…I sound…daft," she said with a frown.
"Well, us Dúnedain are a complicated group," Faramir joked with a smile.
"Not…as complicated as these…times, I…fear," she replied, face falling further.
"Come, this is not a night to worry about that," he replied quietly, taking her by the shoulders. "We celebrate tonight," he continued with a quiet smile. She grinned at his response and then looked over her shoulder at Raeliar.
"I should be able to…keep up a…conversation. Especially…" she turned around to look at Raelier again, facing Faramir after a while "He looks as though he's indulged a bit himself. I shall be fine," she finished, squaring her shoulders with determination.
"Good," Faramir said, eyes twinkling.
"Good," she repeated as Faramir deftly maneuvered the glass out of her hand, replacing it with a glass of ice-water from the nearby table. Guiding her where Ralier stood, he tapped his friend on the shoulder, causing him to turn around.
"My…Lord Faramir…what brings you here?" the man said, bowing low.
"Finduireth was just telling me how nice it is to see a familiar face in the crowd," Faramir replied smoothly.
"Well, I am…glad, my lady…thinks it so?" Raelier replied slowly, as to not stumble over his words, giving her a wink.
"Thank you," she replied steadily.
"The pleasure is…all mine," Raelier replied. "May I?" he asked, offering his arm. "I have not…had a chance…to speak with you at all this night, M'Lady."
"You may," she replied, linking an arm with his, a smile coming to her face that made Faramir silently sigh with relief.
"Take care, cousin," he said, handing her off. "I'm trusting you," he told Raelier in a tone of seriousness, his smile betraying his good humor.
"I will look after…Gondor's finest," Raelier replied with genuine concern.
"As will I," she replied, curtsying to her cousin. "Thank you Faramir, and we take our leave of you."
"As you wish," he replied, bowing slightly. Watching them go, he turned to seek out Boromir, only to be accosted by the advisors from before. It looked like it would truly take him a half-hour this time to maneuver his way out of Merethrond.