Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places
thereof
*****
Faramir awoke slowly. The warmth about him made him groggy even as he stood unsteadily. His flesh prickled at the sudden change in temperature. Fighting the temptation to return to the warm sheets from whence he was so recently gone, Faramir looked around at the sterile yet comfortable room. Where was he? And Mithrandir, Thorongil. . .where were they? Faramir tried to think back, but his memories seemed to cut off shortly after the Orc attack the previous night. Had it been the previous night? He did not know.
Bandages covered his arms, as Faramir discovered in raising his hand to rub the sleep from his eyes. Those around his chest were also changed to clean linen. Ah! Faramir discovered the source of his cold: someone had taken his tunic, presumably in the interest of seeing to his wounds.
Seeking someone, anyone although preferably Mithrandir or Thorongil, Faramir opened the door and found himself in a short corridor. Voices drifted from somewhere to his left. The first to speak, a gruff, low voice, Faramir recognized as Thorongil's, but tinged with foreign hues of despair and something Faramir could not identify that caused his heart to twitch. The second voice interrupted Thorongil, a higher voice but nevertheless low, and more even than Thorongil's but nevertheless pushing for its own purposes.
Faramir paused. He knew it would be rude of him to eavesdrop, but his curiosity tugged quite forcefully.
"You saw him. How can you turn out that boy when you have seen his injuries?" Thorongil asked.
Ah. If they were discussing him, then Faramir thought that perhaps eavesdropping would be a justified wrong. With slow and calculated steps he made his way towards the voices, at last identifying their source and pausing again before the just-open door. He flattened himself against the wall and pricked up his ears to listen.
"This is not a matter of morality, it is a matter of politics."
"He would die at his father's hand if I took him back to Gondor. You know this by the severity of those wounds. Don't ask me to him back."
"Of course. You would not; I know you would take him to Lady Galadriel or Legolas of Mirkwood. He needs to be taken home."
"What he needs is someone to look after him, a place where he can learn who he is and be that person! What he needs is a home!" When Thorongil had finished this outburst a heavy silence hung in the air, as though a great giant held his breath. Faramir dared to press his eye to the crack between the door and the frame and saw Thorongil, his back to the door, and another man, who looked out of the window opposite the door. Glancing, Faramir saw a great many trees following a small meadow, all heavily under shadow.
When Thorongil spoke again, Faramir recognized the foreign sound of pleading, and he winced. "In Imladris he will be safe. Faramir is a good boy, he's smart and sensitive, and if you let him stay he would become a man of whom any one whose heart beats within him would be proud."
The man by the window shook his head. "No."
Thorongil seemed to know the definite resolution of this proclamation: even Faramir could sense it. Nevertheless, the Ranger did not give up. Faramir wished he had. "Please," Thorongil said quietly. The man by the window stiffened at the sound, but he would not turn. Thorongil dropped to his knees. "Please look after him." Faramir gasped sharply. Stop, he willed Thorongil, do not do this! Not for me! "Father," Thorongil ventured, hardly able to keep his voice from breaking. "Ada?"
"Stand up, Estel." With downcast eyes and a face aflame with shame Thorongil did. At last the man by the window turned, and Faramir saw a kind face, ageless and sad. He should have liked to look longer, but in the interest of remaining unseen drew away and went back to his post against the wall.
"This boy means something to you. I can see that. But I will not risk the life of every man, woman and child in Imladris for his safety. We have not the strength to fight off this enemy. You must understand. His life is of value, but not of a greater value than that of all Imladris."
"And mine was?" Thorongil's voice was strong again as he answered back, challenging. He raised his chin and met the eyes of the man with whom he argued, a gesture more meaningful than Faramir perceived. "That Enemy was of greater strength than Gondor." Greater strength than Gondor? Faramir's mind raced. Who could that have been? Rohan? "Take him in under an alias as you did me. Protect him. When he is a man, he will find his own path. You do not even need to nurture him. This is not another Estel, but a boy who-- " Thorongil stopped abruptly as the other man held up a hand to silence him.
"It is strange that all my sons should bring to me the children they find in need. Faramir may remain in Imladris under alias, if this is indeed his will. But at the first word, at the merest whisper, of threat, I will send him back to Gondor."
"You have made the right decision," Thorongil reassured him. Then, to the great surprise of Faramir, Thorongil turned and called to the corridor, "Come in, Faramir."
Faramir shuffled into the room and closed the door carefully behind him. With his eyes locked on the floor, he bowed awkwardly, then stood with his back straight and his shoulders squared. "I'm sorry I was listening in," he said quietly.
Thorongil raised an eyebrow, as if to say, "You see?" But he spoke nothing aloud, instead awaiting the words of his companion.
"Of course it is nothing. Curiosity is the human condition is it not? However, do not make a habit of eavesdropping, if you please. You will be told everything in time. Now, I am sure the floor is not so interesting."
Taking this cue, Faramir raised his eyes just enough to see again the companion of Thorongil. His lips formed a question, but he would not speak aloud. The man moved to brush Faramir's hair away from his face, an almost unconscious habit, and Faramir shied away from him. "What has been done to you, child?" he asked in a voice touched by horror.
"Faramir, this is Elrond, Lord of Imladris. I am sure you heard enough to know the purpose of our discussion?"
Faramir nodded. "He wants me to leave," he whispered. "It's all right. I can leave--"
"Or you might stay," Elrond intervened. "If it is your wish, Faramir of Gondor, you may remain here in Imladris." Imladris! Though he had heard the word many times, Faramir did not register until that moment where he was. The legendary Imladris! "Under a different name you would be safe here. If you wish to return to Gondor, an escort will be arranged for you as soon as you are well enough to travel."
Too confused to pass a judgment of his own, Faramir stammered, "What ever Thorongil thinks is best."
Elrond shook his head. "This is a decision for _you_ to make." Faramir could not answer.
"Well, how about this: you can stay in Imladris until you are healed as a trial, then if you wish to leave you may," Thorongil suggested. Faramir nodded. That idea did appeal to him. Thorongil looked to Elrond. "He can have my old room," he said.
*****
Later, Faramir lay awake and staring into the darkness in a room generally reserved for visitors. He wondered if he was a visitor himself. No one seemed to know. The hour had been late in which he had been introduced to Lord Elrond, and so a room had been appointed to Faramir swiftly. Thorongil's suggestion of his room had been turned down but not explained to a very confused Faramir.
There came a knock at the door. "Faramir?" Thorongil called softly. He did not know if Faramir was awake or asleep and wished to grant him rest, if he was sleeping. "May I come in?"
"Yes," Faramir called, and he pushed himself into a sitting position as Thorongil entered, briefly spilling light into the room from the corridor then extinguishing it as he closed the door.
"I hope you are not afraid of the dark. If you are, the door might be left open. . ."
"I'm not afraid," Faramir answered. Thorongil nodded, aware of Faramir's blindness in the dark, then moved to stand nearer the boy Faramir folded his legs closer to himself and moved towards the wall. "You can sit down if you like," he said quietly.
"Thank you." Thorongil sat. Faramir heard a dull sound as something was set on the floor. "Elrond sends this--it's tea." He offered the cup to Faramir, who accepted it warily. "It will help you sleep."
Faramir heard the catch in Thorongil's voice. "You are leaving, aren't you?" he asked.
"Yes, I am; tomorrow when you wake I will be gone. That is, unless you would rather I stay. If you need, I will stay a day or two more."
"Go," Faramir answered.
"I will come back," Thorongil promised.
"When?" Faramir asked him.
"Well. . ." He thought on it a moment. "When is the day of your thirteenth year?" Thorongil asked.
Faramir swallowed the lump in his throat. Why did he feel like crying? He hardly knew this man! "What is today?" he asked. Thorongil gave the date. "Then I am thirteen years in two weeks," Faramir answered.
"In two weeks I will be here again," Thorongil promised. "My business is not much distant." Faramir said nothing and Thorongil said this, also, then the latter raised the item he had earlier set on the floor.
Faramir's eyes lit up. "Do you play?" he asked, just able to make out the instrument by moonlight.
"A little," Thorongil answered.
"How did you learn? W-will you teach me?" Faramir stuttered in his excitement.
Thorongil smiled. He enjoyed Faramir's happiness. "The Lady Galadriel taught me," he said. Faramir's breath caught in his throat. The Lady of the Golden Wood! He felt he had left behind his known world and entered a place made from the stuff of legends. "If you have a sense for music, you can teach yourself. When I am here, though, it would be my pleasure to help you in this endeavor. If you like, I will play you a song tonight."
"I should think I would like that very much," Faramir answered eagerly.
In response Thorongil ran a finger over the chords to check that they were well tuned, depressed the strings appropriately, and began, hardly aware of his own singing; "Yesterday a child came out to wander. . ."
*****
To be continued
Author's note: I know they haven't Joni Mitchell in Middle-earth, but I'm not a songwriter myself and often use 'Circle Game' as a lullaby in my stories. Also, I did not know when Faramir's given birthday was and could not find it anywhere, so if anyone knows could you please tell me?
Leggylover03:Ah, well, actually I have a somewhat different impression of their relationship. This is not to say that there is no love between them, but Estel is grown and Elrond respects that. They are going to be more distant but not unloving.
Galorin: On two counts I envy you: that you have had exposure to farming and to rain. Lucky! It never rains here. Well, not often, at any rate.
Emerald Phoenix: There's not going to be much I can do about the updates for a bit, as I'll be on holiday, but I'll do my best to make them a more common occurrence.
Someone Very Important: Yay! My powers of description are up to snuff by your standards--and that's sure something!
Queen of the Elven City: Faramir is twelve. People probably torture their favourite characters as an emotional outlet or as a manner of dealing with the darker aspects of life.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed!
*****
Faramir awoke slowly. The warmth about him made him groggy even as he stood unsteadily. His flesh prickled at the sudden change in temperature. Fighting the temptation to return to the warm sheets from whence he was so recently gone, Faramir looked around at the sterile yet comfortable room. Where was he? And Mithrandir, Thorongil. . .where were they? Faramir tried to think back, but his memories seemed to cut off shortly after the Orc attack the previous night. Had it been the previous night? He did not know.
Bandages covered his arms, as Faramir discovered in raising his hand to rub the sleep from his eyes. Those around his chest were also changed to clean linen. Ah! Faramir discovered the source of his cold: someone had taken his tunic, presumably in the interest of seeing to his wounds.
Seeking someone, anyone although preferably Mithrandir or Thorongil, Faramir opened the door and found himself in a short corridor. Voices drifted from somewhere to his left. The first to speak, a gruff, low voice, Faramir recognized as Thorongil's, but tinged with foreign hues of despair and something Faramir could not identify that caused his heart to twitch. The second voice interrupted Thorongil, a higher voice but nevertheless low, and more even than Thorongil's but nevertheless pushing for its own purposes.
Faramir paused. He knew it would be rude of him to eavesdrop, but his curiosity tugged quite forcefully.
"You saw him. How can you turn out that boy when you have seen his injuries?" Thorongil asked.
Ah. If they were discussing him, then Faramir thought that perhaps eavesdropping would be a justified wrong. With slow and calculated steps he made his way towards the voices, at last identifying their source and pausing again before the just-open door. He flattened himself against the wall and pricked up his ears to listen.
"This is not a matter of morality, it is a matter of politics."
"He would die at his father's hand if I took him back to Gondor. You know this by the severity of those wounds. Don't ask me to him back."
"Of course. You would not; I know you would take him to Lady Galadriel or Legolas of Mirkwood. He needs to be taken home."
"What he needs is someone to look after him, a place where he can learn who he is and be that person! What he needs is a home!" When Thorongil had finished this outburst a heavy silence hung in the air, as though a great giant held his breath. Faramir dared to press his eye to the crack between the door and the frame and saw Thorongil, his back to the door, and another man, who looked out of the window opposite the door. Glancing, Faramir saw a great many trees following a small meadow, all heavily under shadow.
When Thorongil spoke again, Faramir recognized the foreign sound of pleading, and he winced. "In Imladris he will be safe. Faramir is a good boy, he's smart and sensitive, and if you let him stay he would become a man of whom any one whose heart beats within him would be proud."
The man by the window shook his head. "No."
Thorongil seemed to know the definite resolution of this proclamation: even Faramir could sense it. Nevertheless, the Ranger did not give up. Faramir wished he had. "Please," Thorongil said quietly. The man by the window stiffened at the sound, but he would not turn. Thorongil dropped to his knees. "Please look after him." Faramir gasped sharply. Stop, he willed Thorongil, do not do this! Not for me! "Father," Thorongil ventured, hardly able to keep his voice from breaking. "Ada?"
"Stand up, Estel." With downcast eyes and a face aflame with shame Thorongil did. At last the man by the window turned, and Faramir saw a kind face, ageless and sad. He should have liked to look longer, but in the interest of remaining unseen drew away and went back to his post against the wall.
"This boy means something to you. I can see that. But I will not risk the life of every man, woman and child in Imladris for his safety. We have not the strength to fight off this enemy. You must understand. His life is of value, but not of a greater value than that of all Imladris."
"And mine was?" Thorongil's voice was strong again as he answered back, challenging. He raised his chin and met the eyes of the man with whom he argued, a gesture more meaningful than Faramir perceived. "That Enemy was of greater strength than Gondor." Greater strength than Gondor? Faramir's mind raced. Who could that have been? Rohan? "Take him in under an alias as you did me. Protect him. When he is a man, he will find his own path. You do not even need to nurture him. This is not another Estel, but a boy who-- " Thorongil stopped abruptly as the other man held up a hand to silence him.
"It is strange that all my sons should bring to me the children they find in need. Faramir may remain in Imladris under alias, if this is indeed his will. But at the first word, at the merest whisper, of threat, I will send him back to Gondor."
"You have made the right decision," Thorongil reassured him. Then, to the great surprise of Faramir, Thorongil turned and called to the corridor, "Come in, Faramir."
Faramir shuffled into the room and closed the door carefully behind him. With his eyes locked on the floor, he bowed awkwardly, then stood with his back straight and his shoulders squared. "I'm sorry I was listening in," he said quietly.
Thorongil raised an eyebrow, as if to say, "You see?" But he spoke nothing aloud, instead awaiting the words of his companion.
"Of course it is nothing. Curiosity is the human condition is it not? However, do not make a habit of eavesdropping, if you please. You will be told everything in time. Now, I am sure the floor is not so interesting."
Taking this cue, Faramir raised his eyes just enough to see again the companion of Thorongil. His lips formed a question, but he would not speak aloud. The man moved to brush Faramir's hair away from his face, an almost unconscious habit, and Faramir shied away from him. "What has been done to you, child?" he asked in a voice touched by horror.
"Faramir, this is Elrond, Lord of Imladris. I am sure you heard enough to know the purpose of our discussion?"
Faramir nodded. "He wants me to leave," he whispered. "It's all right. I can leave--"
"Or you might stay," Elrond intervened. "If it is your wish, Faramir of Gondor, you may remain here in Imladris." Imladris! Though he had heard the word many times, Faramir did not register until that moment where he was. The legendary Imladris! "Under a different name you would be safe here. If you wish to return to Gondor, an escort will be arranged for you as soon as you are well enough to travel."
Too confused to pass a judgment of his own, Faramir stammered, "What ever Thorongil thinks is best."
Elrond shook his head. "This is a decision for _you_ to make." Faramir could not answer.
"Well, how about this: you can stay in Imladris until you are healed as a trial, then if you wish to leave you may," Thorongil suggested. Faramir nodded. That idea did appeal to him. Thorongil looked to Elrond. "He can have my old room," he said.
*****
Later, Faramir lay awake and staring into the darkness in a room generally reserved for visitors. He wondered if he was a visitor himself. No one seemed to know. The hour had been late in which he had been introduced to Lord Elrond, and so a room had been appointed to Faramir swiftly. Thorongil's suggestion of his room had been turned down but not explained to a very confused Faramir.
There came a knock at the door. "Faramir?" Thorongil called softly. He did not know if Faramir was awake or asleep and wished to grant him rest, if he was sleeping. "May I come in?"
"Yes," Faramir called, and he pushed himself into a sitting position as Thorongil entered, briefly spilling light into the room from the corridor then extinguishing it as he closed the door.
"I hope you are not afraid of the dark. If you are, the door might be left open. . ."
"I'm not afraid," Faramir answered. Thorongil nodded, aware of Faramir's blindness in the dark, then moved to stand nearer the boy Faramir folded his legs closer to himself and moved towards the wall. "You can sit down if you like," he said quietly.
"Thank you." Thorongil sat. Faramir heard a dull sound as something was set on the floor. "Elrond sends this--it's tea." He offered the cup to Faramir, who accepted it warily. "It will help you sleep."
Faramir heard the catch in Thorongil's voice. "You are leaving, aren't you?" he asked.
"Yes, I am; tomorrow when you wake I will be gone. That is, unless you would rather I stay. If you need, I will stay a day or two more."
"Go," Faramir answered.
"I will come back," Thorongil promised.
"When?" Faramir asked him.
"Well. . ." He thought on it a moment. "When is the day of your thirteenth year?" Thorongil asked.
Faramir swallowed the lump in his throat. Why did he feel like crying? He hardly knew this man! "What is today?" he asked. Thorongil gave the date. "Then I am thirteen years in two weeks," Faramir answered.
"In two weeks I will be here again," Thorongil promised. "My business is not much distant." Faramir said nothing and Thorongil said this, also, then the latter raised the item he had earlier set on the floor.
Faramir's eyes lit up. "Do you play?" he asked, just able to make out the instrument by moonlight.
"A little," Thorongil answered.
"How did you learn? W-will you teach me?" Faramir stuttered in his excitement.
Thorongil smiled. He enjoyed Faramir's happiness. "The Lady Galadriel taught me," he said. Faramir's breath caught in his throat. The Lady of the Golden Wood! He felt he had left behind his known world and entered a place made from the stuff of legends. "If you have a sense for music, you can teach yourself. When I am here, though, it would be my pleasure to help you in this endeavor. If you like, I will play you a song tonight."
"I should think I would like that very much," Faramir answered eagerly.
In response Thorongil ran a finger over the chords to check that they were well tuned, depressed the strings appropriately, and began, hardly aware of his own singing; "Yesterday a child came out to wander. . ."
*****
To be continued
Author's note: I know they haven't Joni Mitchell in Middle-earth, but I'm not a songwriter myself and often use 'Circle Game' as a lullaby in my stories. Also, I did not know when Faramir's given birthday was and could not find it anywhere, so if anyone knows could you please tell me?
Leggylover03:Ah, well, actually I have a somewhat different impression of their relationship. This is not to say that there is no love between them, but Estel is grown and Elrond respects that. They are going to be more distant but not unloving.
Galorin: On two counts I envy you: that you have had exposure to farming and to rain. Lucky! It never rains here. Well, not often, at any rate.
Emerald Phoenix: There's not going to be much I can do about the updates for a bit, as I'll be on holiday, but I'll do my best to make them a more common occurrence.
Someone Very Important: Yay! My powers of description are up to snuff by your standards--and that's sure something!
Queen of the Elven City: Faramir is twelve. People probably torture their favourite characters as an emotional outlet or as a manner of dealing with the darker aspects of life.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed!