A/N: Thanks a million to all my reviews and yes: Faramir fetishes all the way!
This shall be the last update for a while as exams are fast approaching and being a chronic overachiever I must throw myself headlong into my books. So don't plan on an update for a good two weeks. (When exams will be over!) I apologize that this took a while, I was parted from ff.net and my computer for a good 4 days! *sob* I was so distraught *twitch twitch* that the night I was finally free of excessive amounts of extended family (which are peachy in small doses...) I staid up practically all night just reading fan fiction. If you look at the bottom I responded to some recent reviewers as the fancy struck me. I'm not foresaking the rest of you guys just had to start somewhere and couldn't respond to everyone or I would lose my v. fragile mental stability.
Tragically I just realized it is the Houses of Healing as in plural thus I have a chance of abondoning my highly generic name for something a little more creatve. So if any one has any suggestions tell me!
Lauren
Faramir
As I sat, swept away in a sea of memories that this dwelling brought, memories of a night stained with my blood, the very sky, endless and eternal, saturated with blood, not just mine but the blood of an empire, a way of life, tumbling down the slippery slope to oblivion. I then heard a subdued, hushed voice singing once again.
ÒO! Wanderers in the shadowed land
despair not! For though dark they stand,
all wood there be must end at last,
And see the open sun go past:
the setting sun, the rising sun,
the dayÕs end, or the days begun.
For east of west all woods must fail...Ó
I had neglected to remember I was not alone, now reclining on the grass, my back resting against the rough, crippled trunk of the willow tree. This simple halflingÕs, as many behold him, words pierced my heart and I do not believe he knew how true his words would ring, here where the dawning of the next day in uncertain and all we held to be stable in our alabaster oasis from the cruelty licking at our heels had proved our perception to be false, fatally so. But his fatuous ditty of fell forests and those lost in the labyrinth of branches paralleled oh too closely with the perils we now must confront, or perish. ÒAll darkness must also end at last, all wickedness must also end at last. Like the woods this forthcoming abyss will not plague this world forever. It can not be eternal, one day the clouds will fissure and the fiery orb of the sun will once more bestow itÕs light on the battered, mangled earth and birds will cry and life will continue.Ó
I was startled to see Merry looking at me intently, his eyes trying to penetrate the depths of my grey ones. So in my contemplation my thoughts had slipped from my mouth much to my chagrin, becoming not mere reflection but statements.
ÒIt is true, sir,Ó Merry said finally. ÒWhen Frodo first sang those words we were lost in the Old Forest after a short cut went horrible awry. It was mere months ago, lord, not six or seven new moons have I seen since but those months have been filled with things both malicious and beauteous, events of great valor, places of majestic beauty, places of cruelty and I have journeyed along the safe path. I can not bear to think of what anguish Frodo has had to endure. My perception of time is now so flawed that some days are whisked away before my very eyes and others seem to last life ages of this Earth. I have grown so, both mentally and physically, seen so much yet still have much more to see...Ó his voice faded from my even my keen hearing and he looked up at me for reassurance. ÒAm I making any sense to you, sir?Ó
Though my mind was besieged and I was greatly troubled a smile played on my lips and I playfully ran my hand through his curly head of matted and tangled hair as my brother once did to me what seems ages ago.
ÒYes,Ó I sighed. ÒYou make perfect sense of something I have not been able to make sense of for many sleepless nights. I think...Ó I began, still striving to grasp a concept this halfling seemed to so effortlessly comprehend though he knew it not. ÒI think once someone we love desperately passed on, ceases to be, or goes away to certain death and we are forced to endure life without them and much we once knew is altered they hardly fit into the context of our life anymore. You have experienced so much since the last time you looked upon Frodo and the time when you were together hardly seems to be real to you, you can no longer picture his face and lose sight of the way he spoke, his demeanor, all that was once so familiar to you and though time ticks by leisurely to you it is fleeting,Ó I muttered, realizing then I had halted speaking of Frodo and commenced speaking of my brother. ÒAges have passed since they opened the gates for him, gates now shattered by the devilry of our foes, and he rode across the plain, disappearing into the horizon, forever...Ó
* * * * * * *
Flashback
ÒGo with the grace of the Minas Tirith, Gondor, and indeed all men of the West,Ó my father proclaimed to Boromir, resting a hand, once nimble and skilled with a blade, now gnarled and crippled, on my brotherÕs shoulder. I was certain, if not restrained by dignity and pomp, the he would have enveloped my brother in a loving embrace but for now he merely placed a reassuring hand on his armor, bowing his head.
ÒFather,Ó Boromir muttered. ÒI shall return, shall find the answer to this dream of my brother, this dream of mine.Ó
My fatherÕs shrewd, acidic gaze lingered to where I stood, slightly removed from them, observing yet never partaking, as always. I closed my eyes, unable to bear the intensity of my fatherÕs stare.
ÒAre you well?Ó Boromir asked, approaching me, laying a hand on my shoulder gently as if afraid I would shatter and crumple at his slightest touch.
ÒI am fine,Ó I prevaricated, suddenly very intent on adjusting the belt on which the my sword hung, sheifed in a fine sheaf on intricately woven Gondorian letters with the White Tree etched at the bottom. It was a lie, though I was physically well, only weak and lurid, my mind was far from being at ease. ÒWill you never permit me to forget my collapse?Ó I asked, now engrossed with the hilt of my sword.
ÒFaramir, look at me, brother,Ó Boromir pleaded. ÒI would never dream of mocking you; I only fret over your health.Ó
ÒLet us not speak of dreams for now, brother,Ó I said, finally encountering his gaze. What I shall were his grey irises, acutely similar to mine, peering at me with unmatched woe and concern. ÒDo not let your mind linger on my health while you trek into the unknown. There will be more pressing matters for you to consider.Ó
Boromir nodded grimly, clearing his throat, two pairs of grey eyes now immersed in scrutinizing the stone work.
ÒSo I guess this is good bye,Ó he said, turning to look to the horizon, endless and infinite, broken only occasionally by soaring peaks, scraping the very sky, eternal and majestic as it loomed over us that final dawn. The final time I would look upon my brother in life.
ÒBoromir, I beg of you again. Let me go in your stead. The dream was mine thus I will hold myself responsible for whatever befalls you outside our borders,Ó I fervently implored though I knew my efforts where in vain. ÒPlease, brother. I hold an formidable foreboding, a premonition of ill things, and ghastly events to come. Permit me to go. I would no have you forsake, sacrifice your life thusly.Ó
ÒThat it all the more reason for me to traverse this path to Imladris rather than you. My will is set, brother, even you can not break it,Ó he said, a grim smile playing on his lips as he facetiously ruffled my hair.
ÒStop it,Ó I groaned. ÒI am no longer young,Ó I protested, as I often did.
ÒYes, but you shall forever be my younger brother,Ó he jested. ÒAnd I shall never forget it,Ó he added, his tone becoming soft and woeful. ÒI shall return, little brother, in less than a year and all shall be as it once was,Ó he said, though we both knew in the deepest confines of our soul that it would not. ÒPerhaps by then you will be able to outstrip me in sword play, though I highly doubt it,Ó he said, his voice regaining its previous jovial quality, however feigned it may have been.
With that parting words he strode to the center of the courtyard where his horse, outfitted in all the glory of Gondor, was hitched.
ÒGood bye, my son!Ó our father proclaimed as the gathered crowd, those who had awaken at this early hour to see Boromir off, began to chant his name.
Once again I pressed my eyes closed, allowing their cries to overwhelm me, to engulf me. ÒBoromir!Ó I opened my mouth the beckon him back but my voice was drowned out by the shouts of the throng of townspeople. It was futile.
But he turned, hearing my voice among the dull cadence of his name being hollered over and over again, for ever and anon, over the roar of the masses. As he positioned his sturdy leather boot into the stirrup I dashed from the shadows into the swelling sunlight.
ÒFaramir?Ó he asked. ÒWhat is this?Ó
ÒI would not have leave like this, not have you venture out to seek a place that may not even exist, not have surrender your life for a fatuous dream,Ó I choked, unable to bear the strain any longer.
Boromir hushed me, gripping my shoulders. ÒWould you have your people view in such a condition? Would you have our father behold you in such a state?Ó he hastily asked, imploring me to conceal my emotions.
I shook my head, once again feeling exceedingly youthful and naive. When I dared to gaze back to where my father stood, arms folded across his chest in a stance of defiance and remoteness, his eyes flashed and burned with a pure, unbridled contempt, perhaps not for me, but for my actions.
ÒHe loves you,Ó Boromir murmured. ÒAs do I. That it why I must take this road, it is my destiny, my fate, my doom.Ó With that he embraced me and I wearily laid my chin upon his shoulder plate, as I often would do when I was still quite young and he would return from a scuffle in Ithilien, blood staining his sword and his face masked by layers upon layers of grime and filth.
ÒI shall return, you shall see,Ó he said ere leapt upon his horse and rode into the dawning summer sun, tainting the sky and fields with blood.
Yet he would never return.
* * * * * * *
ÒIt seems like many long, wearisome years have passed since he rode away, rode away to his ultimate death,Ó I said, more to myself than to the halfling leaning against the tree beside me, intwining his stubby fingers in the new grass.
ÒBoromir?Ó he asked gently, sensing it was a difficult subject for me to broach.
I barely nodded my head.
ÒBoromir....Ó Merry said, rethinking their meager time together, though through strife they came to know each other will. ÒHe died desperately fighting for my kinsman, Pergrin Took, and I so we would not be captured by the Uruk-Hai. Do not think his death in vain, though. I have always held your brother in great esteem and owe him my life many time over. I do deem that if he had not attempted to seize the One Ring from Frodo, Frodo would not have become cognizant that he must abandon the Fellowship if ever he was to destroy the Ring. And for that I am thankful.Ó
ÒIf your story is true, Master Meriadoc, then the debt has been already repaid. For without the determination of young Master Pergrin I would have perished in the fire that claimed my fatherÕs life, by his own will,Ó I said. ÒThough much blood has been spilt, even more has been saved from being shed,Ó I said and Merry gave me a beam, unmatched to any I have seen so far.
ÒYou are aptly named, Master Merry, for your soul is truly pure and always, in your heart, are you mirthful and merry,Ó I said, laughing. Laughter, such a sound to harken to after endless months of grim silence.
Merry clasped my hand in his small one,wrapping his stout, stunted fingers around mine. ÒAll shall be well again, you shall see.Ó
Whatever shame I felt to be consoled by a halfling quickly fled. All would be well once more.
If only I could aid Eowyn in seeing that...
So I responded to some recent reviews as the fancy struck me!
monaco: I wrote that coughing up blood chapter under the influence of the ROTK soundtrack (and candy canes) and I guess I almost got swept away in the music. I was honestly just typing along and the next thing I knew the poor guy was (for lack of a better word) hacking up blood. When I came back to this fic the next morning I was quite disturbed and realized (not for the first time) that I may not be entirely sane. I am quite cognizant that it fails to make any sense but I don't plan on changing it.
psychedelic: Faramir fetishes are the best! I think I may even start a website in my free time. *wink wink* (Highly unlikely to happen as any free time I possess is granted to this fic.)
WhiteLady: Yeah! I made someone cry! I think I have quite a knack for that as I had all the people on the Power of the Pen (writing competition!) team sobbing during one of my numerous death stories. I guess I'm not the only one who crieswhile reading fan fiction. That's encouraging!
Iluvien: Wow, thanks for all the reviews. I probably do need a beta reader. I'll look into it.
Spirit of Dawn: That would probably work but I view it like this. It's quite obvious they are far from shy about their feelings for one another. (They DID kissed in front of everyone. Oh, scandalous!) And it never seemed to me that Faramir was one to hide anything...
Tragically I just realized it is the Houses of Healing as in plural thus I have a chance of abondoning my highly generic name for something a little more creatve. So if any one has any suggestions tell me!
Lauren
Faramir
As I sat, swept away in a sea of memories that this dwelling brought, memories of a night stained with my blood, the very sky, endless and eternal, saturated with blood, not just mine but the blood of an empire, a way of life, tumbling down the slippery slope to oblivion. I then heard a subdued, hushed voice singing once again.
ÒO! Wanderers in the shadowed land
despair not! For though dark they stand,
all wood there be must end at last,
And see the open sun go past:
the setting sun, the rising sun,
the dayÕs end, or the days begun.
For east of west all woods must fail...Ó
I had neglected to remember I was not alone, now reclining on the grass, my back resting against the rough, crippled trunk of the willow tree. This simple halflingÕs, as many behold him, words pierced my heart and I do not believe he knew how true his words would ring, here where the dawning of the next day in uncertain and all we held to be stable in our alabaster oasis from the cruelty licking at our heels had proved our perception to be false, fatally so. But his fatuous ditty of fell forests and those lost in the labyrinth of branches paralleled oh too closely with the perils we now must confront, or perish. ÒAll darkness must also end at last, all wickedness must also end at last. Like the woods this forthcoming abyss will not plague this world forever. It can not be eternal, one day the clouds will fissure and the fiery orb of the sun will once more bestow itÕs light on the battered, mangled earth and birds will cry and life will continue.Ó
I was startled to see Merry looking at me intently, his eyes trying to penetrate the depths of my grey ones. So in my contemplation my thoughts had slipped from my mouth much to my chagrin, becoming not mere reflection but statements.
ÒIt is true, sir,Ó Merry said finally. ÒWhen Frodo first sang those words we were lost in the Old Forest after a short cut went horrible awry. It was mere months ago, lord, not six or seven new moons have I seen since but those months have been filled with things both malicious and beauteous, events of great valor, places of majestic beauty, places of cruelty and I have journeyed along the safe path. I can not bear to think of what anguish Frodo has had to endure. My perception of time is now so flawed that some days are whisked away before my very eyes and others seem to last life ages of this Earth. I have grown so, both mentally and physically, seen so much yet still have much more to see...Ó his voice faded from my even my keen hearing and he looked up at me for reassurance. ÒAm I making any sense to you, sir?Ó
Though my mind was besieged and I was greatly troubled a smile played on my lips and I playfully ran my hand through his curly head of matted and tangled hair as my brother once did to me what seems ages ago.
ÒYes,Ó I sighed. ÒYou make perfect sense of something I have not been able to make sense of for many sleepless nights. I think...Ó I began, still striving to grasp a concept this halfling seemed to so effortlessly comprehend though he knew it not. ÒI think once someone we love desperately passed on, ceases to be, or goes away to certain death and we are forced to endure life without them and much we once knew is altered they hardly fit into the context of our life anymore. You have experienced so much since the last time you looked upon Frodo and the time when you were together hardly seems to be real to you, you can no longer picture his face and lose sight of the way he spoke, his demeanor, all that was once so familiar to you and though time ticks by leisurely to you it is fleeting,Ó I muttered, realizing then I had halted speaking of Frodo and commenced speaking of my brother. ÒAges have passed since they opened the gates for him, gates now shattered by the devilry of our foes, and he rode across the plain, disappearing into the horizon, forever...Ó
* * * * * * *
Flashback
ÒGo with the grace of the Minas Tirith, Gondor, and indeed all men of the West,Ó my father proclaimed to Boromir, resting a hand, once nimble and skilled with a blade, now gnarled and crippled, on my brotherÕs shoulder. I was certain, if not restrained by dignity and pomp, the he would have enveloped my brother in a loving embrace but for now he merely placed a reassuring hand on his armor, bowing his head.
ÒFather,Ó Boromir muttered. ÒI shall return, shall find the answer to this dream of my brother, this dream of mine.Ó
My fatherÕs shrewd, acidic gaze lingered to where I stood, slightly removed from them, observing yet never partaking, as always. I closed my eyes, unable to bear the intensity of my fatherÕs stare.
ÒAre you well?Ó Boromir asked, approaching me, laying a hand on my shoulder gently as if afraid I would shatter and crumple at his slightest touch.
ÒI am fine,Ó I prevaricated, suddenly very intent on adjusting the belt on which the my sword hung, sheifed in a fine sheaf on intricately woven Gondorian letters with the White Tree etched at the bottom. It was a lie, though I was physically well, only weak and lurid, my mind was far from being at ease. ÒWill you never permit me to forget my collapse?Ó I asked, now engrossed with the hilt of my sword.
ÒFaramir, look at me, brother,Ó Boromir pleaded. ÒI would never dream of mocking you; I only fret over your health.Ó
ÒLet us not speak of dreams for now, brother,Ó I said, finally encountering his gaze. What I shall were his grey irises, acutely similar to mine, peering at me with unmatched woe and concern. ÒDo not let your mind linger on my health while you trek into the unknown. There will be more pressing matters for you to consider.Ó
Boromir nodded grimly, clearing his throat, two pairs of grey eyes now immersed in scrutinizing the stone work.
ÒSo I guess this is good bye,Ó he said, turning to look to the horizon, endless and infinite, broken only occasionally by soaring peaks, scraping the very sky, eternal and majestic as it loomed over us that final dawn. The final time I would look upon my brother in life.
ÒBoromir, I beg of you again. Let me go in your stead. The dream was mine thus I will hold myself responsible for whatever befalls you outside our borders,Ó I fervently implored though I knew my efforts where in vain. ÒPlease, brother. I hold an formidable foreboding, a premonition of ill things, and ghastly events to come. Permit me to go. I would no have you forsake, sacrifice your life thusly.Ó
ÒThat it all the more reason for me to traverse this path to Imladris rather than you. My will is set, brother, even you can not break it,Ó he said, a grim smile playing on his lips as he facetiously ruffled my hair.
ÒStop it,Ó I groaned. ÒI am no longer young,Ó I protested, as I often did.
ÒYes, but you shall forever be my younger brother,Ó he jested. ÒAnd I shall never forget it,Ó he added, his tone becoming soft and woeful. ÒI shall return, little brother, in less than a year and all shall be as it once was,Ó he said, though we both knew in the deepest confines of our soul that it would not. ÒPerhaps by then you will be able to outstrip me in sword play, though I highly doubt it,Ó he said, his voice regaining its previous jovial quality, however feigned it may have been.
With that parting words he strode to the center of the courtyard where his horse, outfitted in all the glory of Gondor, was hitched.
ÒGood bye, my son!Ó our father proclaimed as the gathered crowd, those who had awaken at this early hour to see Boromir off, began to chant his name.
Once again I pressed my eyes closed, allowing their cries to overwhelm me, to engulf me. ÒBoromir!Ó I opened my mouth the beckon him back but my voice was drowned out by the shouts of the throng of townspeople. It was futile.
But he turned, hearing my voice among the dull cadence of his name being hollered over and over again, for ever and anon, over the roar of the masses. As he positioned his sturdy leather boot into the stirrup I dashed from the shadows into the swelling sunlight.
ÒFaramir?Ó he asked. ÒWhat is this?Ó
ÒI would not have leave like this, not have you venture out to seek a place that may not even exist, not have surrender your life for a fatuous dream,Ó I choked, unable to bear the strain any longer.
Boromir hushed me, gripping my shoulders. ÒWould you have your people view in such a condition? Would you have our father behold you in such a state?Ó he hastily asked, imploring me to conceal my emotions.
I shook my head, once again feeling exceedingly youthful and naive. When I dared to gaze back to where my father stood, arms folded across his chest in a stance of defiance and remoteness, his eyes flashed and burned with a pure, unbridled contempt, perhaps not for me, but for my actions.
ÒHe loves you,Ó Boromir murmured. ÒAs do I. That it why I must take this road, it is my destiny, my fate, my doom.Ó With that he embraced me and I wearily laid my chin upon his shoulder plate, as I often would do when I was still quite young and he would return from a scuffle in Ithilien, blood staining his sword and his face masked by layers upon layers of grime and filth.
ÒI shall return, you shall see,Ó he said ere leapt upon his horse and rode into the dawning summer sun, tainting the sky and fields with blood.
Yet he would never return.
* * * * * * *
ÒIt seems like many long, wearisome years have passed since he rode away, rode away to his ultimate death,Ó I said, more to myself than to the halfling leaning against the tree beside me, intwining his stubby fingers in the new grass.
ÒBoromir?Ó he asked gently, sensing it was a difficult subject for me to broach.
I barely nodded my head.
ÒBoromir....Ó Merry said, rethinking their meager time together, though through strife they came to know each other will. ÒHe died desperately fighting for my kinsman, Pergrin Took, and I so we would not be captured by the Uruk-Hai. Do not think his death in vain, though. I have always held your brother in great esteem and owe him my life many time over. I do deem that if he had not attempted to seize the One Ring from Frodo, Frodo would not have become cognizant that he must abandon the Fellowship if ever he was to destroy the Ring. And for that I am thankful.Ó
ÒIf your story is true, Master Meriadoc, then the debt has been already repaid. For without the determination of young Master Pergrin I would have perished in the fire that claimed my fatherÕs life, by his own will,Ó I said. ÒThough much blood has been spilt, even more has been saved from being shed,Ó I said and Merry gave me a beam, unmatched to any I have seen so far.
ÒYou are aptly named, Master Merry, for your soul is truly pure and always, in your heart, are you mirthful and merry,Ó I said, laughing. Laughter, such a sound to harken to after endless months of grim silence.
Merry clasped my hand in his small one,wrapping his stout, stunted fingers around mine. ÒAll shall be well again, you shall see.Ó
Whatever shame I felt to be consoled by a halfling quickly fled. All would be well once more.
If only I could aid Eowyn in seeing that...
So I responded to some recent reviews as the fancy struck me!
monaco: I wrote that coughing up blood chapter under the influence of the ROTK soundtrack (and candy canes) and I guess I almost got swept away in the music. I was honestly just typing along and the next thing I knew the poor guy was (for lack of a better word) hacking up blood. When I came back to this fic the next morning I was quite disturbed and realized (not for the first time) that I may not be entirely sane. I am quite cognizant that it fails to make any sense but I don't plan on changing it.
psychedelic: Faramir fetishes are the best! I think I may even start a website in my free time. *wink wink* (Highly unlikely to happen as any free time I possess is granted to this fic.)
WhiteLady: Yeah! I made someone cry! I think I have quite a knack for that as I had all the people on the Power of the Pen (writing competition!) team sobbing during one of my numerous death stories. I guess I'm not the only one who crieswhile reading fan fiction. That's encouraging!
Iluvien: Wow, thanks for all the reviews. I probably do need a beta reader. I'll look into it.
Spirit of Dawn: That would probably work but I view it like this. It's quite obvious they are far from shy about their feelings for one another. (They DID kissed in front of everyone. Oh, scandalous!) And it never seemed to me that Faramir was one to hide anything...