A/N: I live! (in the sense that I am still physically breathing and have
yet to keel over) I had every intent of carrying this chapter on to male it
at least 1500 words but my muse would not cooperate thus is is rather
short. I would respond to reviews but as of now I have 46 minutes to get
myself dressed and out the door to make it on school on time and I'm still
sitting here in my pajamas. As always when the flashback commences I have
made it painfully obvious...
A million thanks to my beta: Dragon Girl Revlis...
Read and review... I beseech you!
Lauren
* * * * * * *
Faramir
In the course of my childhood, as fervently gaze back through the years, vainly seeking to pierce the haze that time has wrought over legions of memories, I am able to discern one lamentable incident with astounding clarity of perception. I have retained the ability to recall every finite detail, though other memories have ebbed entirely, ceasing to me, of one particular day when I could count my years upon one chubby hand. My naiveté would abruptly terminate that day, as I was swiftly seized from the guileless, whimsical world of childhood and placed in the malicious, dour realm of adulthood by the vicious, venomous claws of fate.
* * * * * * *
Flashback
Her thick ebony locks, so often woven into a unpretentious yet elegant coil at the nape of her neck, were lying loose, tangled and matted, across the pillow, violently contrasting with her sunken, ashen continence. The chambers in which she now resided were so utterly white and asture they assailed me with unparalleled trepidation. Nightly I was tormented with ghastly nightmares and was engulfed in a terror I thought only grotesque beasts and perhaps even Father when he was in one of his more abhorrent, vile moods, could evoke at the prospect of venturing into that room. Boromir, then but a decade old, drew parallels between these quarters and the lair of some heinous, surreptitious monster, to amuse me but only succeeded in frightening me more which obliged Father to grant him a swift striking across the back of his head.
"We must forgive, Father, little brother," Boromir told me after our lord had stalked from our chambers, seeking solace in the solitude of his study. "He is not himself," he continued, futilely combating the tears that were filling his eyes, tears not only from the shameful excruciation of having Father's wrath placed upon him, but tears wrought from the weight of realization that he bore. He comprehends Mother's illness and was cognizant of what her ultimate fate would be, though, for my sake (and the sake of Father's mandates) he remained silent about his knowledge. I have often contemplated, and admired, him, for suffering the burden of the truth that was placed upon his shoulders, then slender and weak, utterly solitary.
Boromir gripped my shoulder, forcing me to traverse to Mother's beside, where she had extended one limp, ivory hand. She caressed my tear stained cheeks with her fingers, her flesh almost translucent and murmured my name, the syllables of it sounding both beautiful and haunting as they escaped her lips. Casting a wary gaze to where Father was paralyzed in incessant vigilance in the corner, she enfolded me in a tight embrace, stroking my hair, reiterating just how boundless her love for me was and other tender things that I will leave untold, articulations I do not wish to touch this air, tainted by the smoke of war, words that to me are pure mithiril, more hallow, sacred, and precious then anything else this world contains. Then reluctantly she released me, hesitantly yielding me to Father and to the malignant world outside of her embrace. She repeated her actions with Boromir, who loathly, withdrew from her clasp, perceiving that if was our time to depart from the chambers.
"Do not permit her to even glimpse you cry, Faramir," he whispered sternly in my ear as we exited, forsaking his usual term of endearment, 'Little Brother.'
I cast one, wistful look back at Mother, wraithlike and sallow, spying Father bitterly weeping as he clasped her delicate white hand in his broad, rough palm.
All was contrasting. Mother's flesh against her sable tendrils of hair, Father's hand against the languid once he clutched, and my life ere she departed from the life of the living and my life after she ceased to me, save in memory.
A million thanks to my beta: Dragon Girl Revlis...
Read and review... I beseech you!
Lauren
* * * * * * *
Faramir
In the course of my childhood, as fervently gaze back through the years, vainly seeking to pierce the haze that time has wrought over legions of memories, I am able to discern one lamentable incident with astounding clarity of perception. I have retained the ability to recall every finite detail, though other memories have ebbed entirely, ceasing to me, of one particular day when I could count my years upon one chubby hand. My naiveté would abruptly terminate that day, as I was swiftly seized from the guileless, whimsical world of childhood and placed in the malicious, dour realm of adulthood by the vicious, venomous claws of fate.
* * * * * * *
Flashback
Her thick ebony locks, so often woven into a unpretentious yet elegant coil at the nape of her neck, were lying loose, tangled and matted, across the pillow, violently contrasting with her sunken, ashen continence. The chambers in which she now resided were so utterly white and asture they assailed me with unparalleled trepidation. Nightly I was tormented with ghastly nightmares and was engulfed in a terror I thought only grotesque beasts and perhaps even Father when he was in one of his more abhorrent, vile moods, could evoke at the prospect of venturing into that room. Boromir, then but a decade old, drew parallels between these quarters and the lair of some heinous, surreptitious monster, to amuse me but only succeeded in frightening me more which obliged Father to grant him a swift striking across the back of his head.
"We must forgive, Father, little brother," Boromir told me after our lord had stalked from our chambers, seeking solace in the solitude of his study. "He is not himself," he continued, futilely combating the tears that were filling his eyes, tears not only from the shameful excruciation of having Father's wrath placed upon him, but tears wrought from the weight of realization that he bore. He comprehends Mother's illness and was cognizant of what her ultimate fate would be, though, for my sake (and the sake of Father's mandates) he remained silent about his knowledge. I have often contemplated, and admired, him, for suffering the burden of the truth that was placed upon his shoulders, then slender and weak, utterly solitary.
Boromir gripped my shoulder, forcing me to traverse to Mother's beside, where she had extended one limp, ivory hand. She caressed my tear stained cheeks with her fingers, her flesh almost translucent and murmured my name, the syllables of it sounding both beautiful and haunting as they escaped her lips. Casting a wary gaze to where Father was paralyzed in incessant vigilance in the corner, she enfolded me in a tight embrace, stroking my hair, reiterating just how boundless her love for me was and other tender things that I will leave untold, articulations I do not wish to touch this air, tainted by the smoke of war, words that to me are pure mithiril, more hallow, sacred, and precious then anything else this world contains. Then reluctantly she released me, hesitantly yielding me to Father and to the malignant world outside of her embrace. She repeated her actions with Boromir, who loathly, withdrew from her clasp, perceiving that if was our time to depart from the chambers.
"Do not permit her to even glimpse you cry, Faramir," he whispered sternly in my ear as we exited, forsaking his usual term of endearment, 'Little Brother.'
I cast one, wistful look back at Mother, wraithlike and sallow, spying Father bitterly weeping as he clasped her delicate white hand in his broad, rough palm.
All was contrasting. Mother's flesh against her sable tendrils of hair, Father's hand against the languid once he clutched, and my life ere she departed from the life of the living and my life after she ceased to me, save in memory.