Side note that has nothing to do with this story... Sort of in response to Arahiril (sort of) I'm glad you liked my prayer. I myself believe very strongly that they worshiped Eru, their God. BUT I've always wondered this...how did they get married? Was their some kind of equivalent to clergy in Middle Earth? Did they have a wedding cerimony, or what? If anyone can help me here, PLEASE DO! You will be clearing up something that has caused me severe sleep loss (Jk;-)
Thank you to all of my wonderful reviewers...you flatter me beyond the expression of words;-)
The sunlight hit the water with a shimmer, sending glimmers of light up toward the beach. To Faramir, who was watching it with a keen eye, it looked like all of his dreams and happy times caught up and turned into sparkling golden light and cast on the water.
So he was here, again. In all of his favorite dreams he was here, by the sea. He had been so very young when his mother died, but he could still remember her voice telling him of the sea and the beautiful waves. She would touch his face with a feather light finger and whisper, "You have eyes the same color as the sea, my precious." Sometimes, when no one at all was around, Faramir would creep over to the mirror and gaze at his eyes. It wasn't for vain purposes, no. But after his mother died he wanted so much to know what the sea was like, that he thought maybe he could tell by looking at his own eyes. He would lose himself in the color and try his best as a city boy to picture the sea and the endless crashing and tumult.
Faramir looked up as a white gull flew overhead, greeting him with a cheerful caw and dipping into the waves to settle on top. It was a comforting sight, he realized, being able to watch the bird doing what it had done for generations and generations without end.
He had been ten when he had had his first sight of the sea. It was a long, long trip, but he hadn't minded. The entire time he would not stop pestering Boromir (who had visited the sea when he was seven) about what it looked like.
Was it huge?
Yes.
Bigger than the Anduin?
In a different way, of course!
Would he be able to go into it?
Most assuredly...and the cousins would teach them how to ride the waves.
What did that feel like? What did the sea sound like? Would they be able to see it out of their bedroom window and listen to it as they slept?
For goodness sake, stop pestering me! I DON'T KNOW!
The first thing he remembered about the ocean was that it had been frightening. After all of the time he had spent dreaming about it, and yet upon first sight he had been terrified. The waves were too big, the noise too loud. He never wanted to go out into it...suppose he was to be swept out to sea and never be able to get back home? He wasn't ready to die! He didn't want to join Amme yet! But gradually he learned to like it, and by the time they were to go back to Minis Tirith Faramir was in tears to think he would be leaving it.
As Faramir grew, his love of the sea only increased. It was a sanctuary to him...a safe haven. It was Amme's sea, and Amme's home. Amme was part of the only happy times Faramir could remember in his young life, so it was only natural for him to love with unconditional love the place where Amme was from.
Now Faramir turned away and began walking up the steep hill toward the big house up top. He was going to let himself be washed free of memories today. Completely and absolutely...
Drat.
It looked as if that wasn't going to happen after all. Out of the house ran Boromir, a young seven year old, and Denethor followed closely behind. He held Finduilas's arm, who was holding the baby Faramir (who was three) by one hand. They were all smiling...that much any fool could see.
As Boromir ran splashing into the ocean, Faramir laughed and clapped his hands, trying to break away from his mother and run down to the water too. No such luck...as he pulled more and more Denethor finally scooped him up and, with a smile and wink at his wife, he ran with the child down to the beach.
"Come, Boromir," Denethor smiled, "Let's show your brother how to play in the water."
Immediately Boromir came over and took Faramir's small hands. "Dip them in the water, Far," he said, "like this!" And he splashed his father with an impish grin. Denethor spluttered good-naturedly, wiping his face with his free hand, just in time to catch another splash, this one from his younger son.
"Boromir, what are you teaching him?" he cried, trying his best to act angry. A delicate laugh came from the sand, where Finduilas sat under the shade of a canopy. "You look so funny, Den darling," she smiled. "You're completely soaked!"
Denethor blew a kiss from the water. "And you look absolutely stunning, my flower."
Faramir felt a tear trickle down his face, and he let it be blown off by the wind. They had never been so happy anywhere else. Finduilas really wasn't content when she wasn't by the sea, and when Finduilas was happy, Denethor was happy. If there was one thing that he could look up to his father for, it was his love for his mother. He practically worshiped her.
The happy scene was beginning to fade, and Faramir turned toward the house again. Someone else was coming out of it...and the sky began to grow dark. All of his dreams turned dark, after a time. He was just like that.
The man was dressed all in black, with a black cape and hood to go along with it. This isn't one of my memories, Faramir thought frantically, I've never seen that figure before in my life! But it was coming closer, that he knew. He began to retreat toward the cliffs, stumbling over his own feet to get away. Something told him to run, yet the thought of turning his back to this creature was a loathful thought.
Suddenly, Faramir's back struck against a stone wall, and Faramir realized he'd backed right into the side of one of the tombs that lay behind the hill at the back of the house. The stone was cold under his fingertips, and he prayed with all his might that he would be delivered. He chanced a look up at the sky, then back to the advancing figure. Was it just his imagination, or had the thing gotten ten yards closer in that space of time? Something tickled his hand, and he spared a glance down at it, then back at the figure. Now it seemed as if it was twenty yards closer. Then something sharp touched his head and his eyes flickered for a split second...he was positive that whatever it was was now thirty yards closer and almost upon him. He held up his hands to shield himself.
"What are you?" he cried.
"You know what I am," the voice said, and he remembered that voice now. "And you know what I want."
"NO!" screamed Faramir. "You'll never get Èowyn! Not in a million years!"
"Fool!" the thing cried, and something hard slammed against Faramir's head, sending him tumbling to his knees. "I don't want the girl! You should know that much. What I want is..." Faramir felt something warm and sticky in his face, and he looked up into a completely black mask. "...your joy. I want your happiness...I want your memories, all of the good ones. I want you to remember only the pain, only the torture. I want the blinding grief to consume you; I want the agony to take over your mind until there's nothing left but a shriveled nothing. And then you can die."
Immediately Faramir saw Denethor raising the whip and bringing it down onto his flesh. Eru, it hurt so! He hadn't been beaten since he was fifteen, and he'd forgotten the agony it could produce.
He saw Boromir in the boat again, slipping down the Anduin silently, painlessly. He felt his heart tear as it had that day, never to be completely mended.
He watched as his mother sobbed in private, longing for the sea and her old life, away from the city of stone. He felt the quick, silent pain pierce his heart like a needle.
He saw Èowyn as she despaired of life, as the cold, hard glint in her eyes grew and slew without thinking. He saw her scorn mankind and their pity until she cast her body over the side of the walls. She plummeted, letting her hair whip about her, her eyes smiling in final release.
He felt the crawling, burning heat of a fire on him and looked up to see his father's face through the pain. He was asking for forgiveness. Could he give it? But now the flames were too hot. Now the whip was tearing into his heart. Now the sight of his brother drew him to his knees. Now his mother brought him on his face in agony. Now the look in Èowyn's eyes bit into his mind and soul until he couldn't think. He couldn't take it any more! The pain, the pain! Nothing but pain!
"Ada! Ada, PLEASE! Boromir, Amme, ÈOWYN!" he screamed with one last effort. It was too much! He couldn't go on...he was dying!
Then there was a gentle touch on his face, and the ghosts began to melt away. Slowly, at first, but they gathered speed. He turned his head through the blood and saw a vision...a beautiful woman next to him, touching him and smiling.
It was Èowyn.
He brought his hand down to her and she clasped it. The blood began to melt away too, and the heat fled somewhat. She opened her beautiful mouth and silver words floated through the air. Lovely, soothing words...
Your sweet and weary head
Night is falling
You have come to journey's end
Sleep now
Dream---of the ones who came before
They are calling
From across a distant shore
Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see
All of your fears will pass away
Safe in my arms
You're only sleeping
What can you see
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come
To carry you home
And all will turn to silver glass
A light on the water
All souls pass...
Faramir closed his eyes and felt himself drift away on a cloud until all the pain and agony was gone. So soft, so warm...
His feet hit the ground and he looked down. White sand. He was standing on a white shore, and around him white gulls flew in slow, soft rhythm. He realized he was barefoot, and the feeling of the sand in between his toes was one of the best feelings he had ever had, he believed. A path stretched out in front of him, and he began strolling along it, whistling merrily. He didn't know exactly where he was going, but he knew it was going to be good. He looked out over the still, glassy water and saw a light shimmering over the top. How beautiful.
"Faramir."
Faramir tilted his head back and gazed up at the star-strewn heavens. There was nothing ever like them, he decided. And especially nothing like the moon. When he had begun learning elvish, his teacher had asked him what the very first word in elvish he wanted to learn was. Faramir had thought for a long moment, and then looked up with big eyes. "Moon," he had replied. The teacher had smiled, and written in big letters on the copy book, "I-T-H-I-L." Faramir had thought it was the prettiest word ever.
"Faramir."
Anar was another pretty word, and the two seemed to go together. Sun and Moon. The sun wasn't out right now, but Faramir didn't care. He liked the moon better, because when the moon was out nobody cared where he was or what he was thinking. It was a feeling he'd had ever since he was a child.
"FARAMIR!"
Faramir stopped walking and looked around. Someone was calling his name, and this time it didn't sound threatening in the least. Who could be looking for him here? He didn't even know where here was!
"Yes?" he called hesitantly. "Who's there?"
"Come back."
"What?" he asked, turning around and searching for the voice. "Where?"
"Come over to the hilltop. At once."
The voice was so persuasive, and Faramir couldn't see how it would hurt, so he walked over and stopped at the top. "I'm here," he called. "Now what?"
"Jump off of the cliff," the voice said. "You must return to the land of the living."
Faramir took a step back and peered over the side. Thick fog swirled at the bottom of the crevice, and up from the depths he heard a cry for mercy. A cry of pain.
It was his own voice.
Faramir took another step back. "But there's pain and agony down there," he said, a tremor running through his voice. "There are memories, decisions, and abuse. I can't." He stepped back again.
"You must. But that is not all there is, Faramir. What else is there?"
Faramir paused and thought. "There is Èowyn," he whispered. "She would never make it if I died. And...there's my son, Elboron. Someone must be there to teach him and love him. There is Gondor, and all of the work that must be done to rebuild and replenish. And...there's Imrahil and Lothiriel and the rest of my family in Dol Amroth."
"You see? There is good. Your time has not yet come, Faramir. Now jump."
Faramir gritted his teeth. He must be prepared for any pain his body was going through at the moment. He stepped to the edge and began to jump..."Wait!" he said suddenly, and turned. "Who are you?"
The voice laughed softly, a pleasing sound. "I am merely one of the Valar, small one. Now go."
Faramir touched his forehead and then his heart in a show of respect and then stepped to the edge and jumped. Down, down, down he fell, through mist and shadow, cloud and shade, to the edge of night. Finally, he felt himself land and he lay for a minute, gasping for breath. He was burning and his arm throbbed, but he was completely ready for it. He opened his eyes, and looked straight up at Èowyn's face.
"Im na bar, Èowyn," (I am home, Èowyn) he smiled. "Im na bar."