Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places
thereof
Author's note: I am so terribly sorry this took so long! My beta-reader had it for a month before I just looked it through myself. If there are any errors, by the way, please let me know.
****
Faramir awoke shivering, curled into a ball to keep out the cold, and he wondered momentarily if this was some crazy punishment, and if so what he had done, for he had tried so hard to be good! Then he opened his eyes and two things happened at once: Faramir heard merry laughter from out of doors, and he saw the blue coverlet upon which he had fallen asleep.
He stood up, curiosity getting the better of him, though he recalled curiosity earning him a painful beating once and again, and went to the window. It seemed all the world shrouded in a great white mist, until Faramir unlatched the window and pushed it open. Cold air gushed in through the opening, bringing with it the sounds of merriment more loudly. Faramir peered out and saw four figures, three dark-haired and one blonde. After a moment he knew them: Elladan and Elrohir, though he knew not one from the other, Thorongil and Legolas. They were playing, as close as Faramir could tell, knocking each other over and stuffing handfuls of snow down each other's tunics and, not very nicely, trousers.
And words discernible amongst the laughter, "Ai! That was not very kind, Estel!"
"Not at all kind, but well deserved!" answered Thorongil. The elven twins shared a glanced and together knocked him to the ground. In spite of his loud protests, the greatest danger to Thorongil seemed laughing until he could not long breathe and losing consciousness for it!
"Who ever said you two could maul my friend like that?" Legolas asked, bowling over one twin.
At this point another head leaned from another window and accused them, "You boys will wake the dead with your noise!"
The four answer as one, one twin pinning down Thorongil and the other being sat upon by Legolas, "Aw, but Ada!"
Faramir knew that this had occurred more than once before. He feared for them, for Thorongil and the elven twins, for they had been very loud at such an early an hour that Elrond must be furious, and surely he had as strong an arm as a will! For this reason, feeling a terrible cowardice writhing in his belly, Faramir withdrew into the room and slipped from sleeping clothes to daytime attire. He had been given a number of castoffs, with apologies, as he had no other clothing of his own.
Who wore this afore me, Faramir wondered. Whose clothing do I don now? Where has he gone? What did he do in these garments? But very quickly he checked these questions, reminding himself that he had yet to learn the result of lighting Lord Elrond's temper and had no longing to gain this knowledge.
Later in the day, as Faramir attempted to put this experience into his book and felt increasingly frustrated with his inability to do so, he thought to himself, 'I do not suppose anyone knows it, but today I am ten and three years old. Does Thorongil remember?' And so he wrote into his book:
"Today I am a man. Somehow I feel yet like a boy."
"Roan."
Faramir snapped shut the book and sat on it, then felt rather foolish as he met the eyes of his...what? Faramir considered: friend?
"Elrond informs me," Thorongil continued, "that you have not had a bath in some two weeks since you arrived here."
Still Faramir said nothing, only the muscles of his throat going tight to betray his fear.
"Why?"
Faramir shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, restored his vision and shook his head again.
"You do not have to give your reason. But, Roan, you must bathe. It is a matter of hygiene, health and, well, smell."
The boy mastered himself and nodded painfully. He went willingly to have this forced bath, though he spoke naught and seemed more a prisoner being led to his death. But as soon as Faramir saw the tub full of water he rebelled, and had not cast off any garment before retreating against the opposite wall. His eyes grew wide and he shook his head, though no one saw this act. As a wise lamb broke free from slaughter Faramir ran from the room, running for all he was worth as best he could with the ragged breath of fear.
Faramir only stopped running when, his eyes hardly opened, he crashed into someone in the corridor who did not release him. "Calm down, child!" Elladan insisted, holding Faramir still as he would have Estel. "Hold yourself be!"
In fear and to no avail Faramir flailed against the Elf, to Elladan's continued confusion. "Elladan!" Both froze and looked to Thorongil, looking in great surprise and alarm at them. "Leave him be." Elladan stepped back and Faramir, now quite afraid of him, ran to hide behind Thorongil. "No," said Thorongil quietly, "I shall not have that either."
Faramir looked up at him with all the defiance he dared. "I do not care what you do to me," he said quietly, "for I would sooner be beaten than drowned."
Thorongil felt his features attempting to form an expression of horror and pity, and checked himself. It was Elladan who could not control himself, so shocked at this thing being implied of his brother and of the sincere fear in the voice of a small child! "You poor child," he whispered.
"Roan." Thorongil knelt before Faramir, looking up to him rather than down. "No one will hurt while I am here. I promise."
Faramir blinked away tears and swallowed the hot bile rising in his throat. "Do you know how it feels when you cannot breathe? Do you know how your lungs burn with a dry fire, that you drink water to quench the flames? I would rather earn my death with the skin stripped from my back than try again to swallow the water of a full tub of water and have it forced from me."
Thorongil nodded. "Will you take a flannel and a bowl of water and wash yourself in that manner?" To this Faramir consented, and left Elladan and Thorongil to stand and look silently at one another.
Elladan spoke first. "What ever has happened to that boy, Estel, it will take much time to heal! Let us hope he has the strength for it."
Thorongil laughed bitterly. "Why do you think we call him Etana, Elladan? When he tells his story you will see that he, if any among us, has this strength. Though he cannot wield a sword, we are but fleas to his power."
*
Faramir stopped and tugged at his tunic--well, not his exactly, but one of the tunics he had been given. There had been numerous offers of new clothes but Faramir refused them. Somehow he liked the old things, new to him yet broken in at the same time. He thought of the story of his birth as Boromir often whispered to him when Faramir was frightened or upset.
"It was early--too early, really, by two months, but Mother did not care what the healers told her. She knew her child and she knew that he was coming into this world whether they liked it or not! She told them so! Two days later, on the early hours before dawn, her time came. Her ladies dashed about like geese with their heads off, and Mother said so!"
Sitting with a family not his, Faramir remembered how the tale progressed, "They kept telling her 'Push, push!' and Mother, she did just that, but it was hurting her and she was screaming. Her breath sent shivers through her whole body. Just as her strength failed, as Mother readied herself to request the dangerous surgery of the cutting of the infant from the womb, the sun began to rise. Watching the light-rays come over the horizon her strength returned and you, Faramir--you were born with the sun."
"Etana? Roan?"
"Where are you, Sunshine?" Arwen asked him, not teasing but sounding gleeful that she might have been. Faramir looked up at her, utterly confused as to why everyone was saying his name. "We were saying, congratulations. In the world of Men, you are a man today."
Faramir blushed and nodded. "Thank you," he whispered.
"Which among Elves," Legolas joked, "means you are old enough to drink."
Thorongil shook his head and motioned for Legolas not to do this, but, misunderstanding, Legolas answered, "He is old enough, Estel."
Faramir stared a long moment at the decanter in his hands. He felt every weal on his back ripping open, the fire shooting through his body. The time he hit his head on the table, his eyes clouded over...And he knew then, holding that evil in his hands, that he was capable of the same. His hands itched to form fists. Violence rose in his blood, a fearful defiance.
"No!" He stood and threw the decanter with all his might. It shattered against the wall.
One of the twins jumped to his feet. "What is wrong with you, child?" he asked. Faramir's heart raced with fear.
"What is wrong with -you-!" Thorongil shot back, leaping to his feet.
"Perchance this paranoiac child, Estel! Perchance this broken human you have brought into our home!"
"Elrohir!" Mithrandir exclaimed. "I would remind you that, as the son of this house's lord--"
"And I would remind -you-, Mithrandir, and you boys as well," spoke the first truly calm voice to enter the conversation, "that this is -my- house. Grown or no," now Elrond spoke to Elrohir and Thorongil, no longer Mithrandir, "this is my house and if you will not respect me as your father you will remember that I am lord here."
The two sank back into their seats, glaring daggers at each other but keeping their mouths shut. Faramir remained standing. He was in for it now! Shaking with fear, he watched Elrond approach him and struggled to draw himself up to his full height.
Elrond had never before hit a child and he never would. He had no qualms with lecturing nor assigning service hours, but to physically punish someone to young to fully understand, or to control himself...There were many ways to discipline a child without making him afraid. Elrond hugged Faramir. It was all he could think of to do for the trembling boy.
At first Faramir did not understand. Then he knew, he remembered, and his muscles contracted with fear and memory. When Elrond drew away from Faramir, he said, "You are excused if you wish to be but otherwise encouraged to stay."
Faramir turned and ran. The group left there was silent, anger and confusion boiling. Thorongil knelt to gather up the shards of the glass decanter. "Estel, don't--"
He turned to look at Legolas, eyes flashing angrily. "Don't -what-? How do I know he will not be sorry, will not come back and clean up after himself? It is what I would have done and frankly, Legolas, I am less worried for my dignity than for his safety. Handling pieces of broken glass generally is -unsafe-!"
Thorongil continued his task in silence. They all knew this division, and for individual reasons did not move to help him. Elrond and Mithrandir understood that this fight was not theirs to enter. Legolas and the twins wished to help their brother, or friend, but could no choose between him and this boy, who brought on this split and seemed, far as they knew, beyond the realms of sanity. The idea of abuse never occurred to them, by their own millenia-old ignorance.
It was the most reserved, pleasant member of their group who moved to help their Estel: it was Arwen who pushed her chair back and knelt beside him. He looked up and smiled his thanks. She smiled in return. "I do not understand this, Estel, but I do trust you." Arwen swallowed her tears, for though her undertones spoke specifically of her brothers the meaning of her choice carried much heavier implications for her father. She hated making him cry, and knew she had done so, that even with dry eyes Elrond cried.
What had not counted on any tears, nor did she notice them until they fell upon her hands. "Estel..."
"It is only the pain," he mumbled, drawing attention to the cuts on his palms from the many glass fragments. "Here, it is done." He dropped the pieces of glass onto the table. "Good night."
*
"Faramir?"
"Thorongil--" Faramir sat up and moved to rise, but before he could stand Thorongil was sitting on the ground beside the bed.
"This is for you."
"What is it?"
"Um..." Suddenly he felt mightily stupid. "Food. And, and some papers you might...I thought you might be interested in."
Faramir mumbled his thanks through a mouthful of food. For a while his chewing was the only sound in the room, then curiosity got the better of him and he asked, "Is he strong?"
"Is who strong?"
"Lord Elrond. I mean--I know why, and I deserve it, but I just want to know."
"He is strong," Thorongil answered honestly, "but he is not going to hurt you."
"But...he hugged me."
"Of course he did. Whenever one of his children was frightened or upset he would hug them."
"Are...are you...Is he your sire?"
Thorongil considered. "In some ways. He raised me. My sire died when I was small." He told few people of this, but Faramir was different. Faramir was in Imladris to heal, and Thorongil had brought him, so he would tell him the truth if it was asked for. "Do you miss your father?"
"No," Faramir answered over-quickly. He fell silent and drew deep within himself, to a place no pain could penetrate, then he continued, "Father...would hug me sometimes...tell me he was sorry...something had gotten into him, but it was gone, he wanted to make amends..." His voice caught, and he gasped out his next words, "It always hurt more after that. I believed him every time but he would be angry at me for causing him weakness. After I killed my mother, he..."
Faramir grabbed his pillow and bit into it to keep from crying. He rocked back and forth, muttering to himself. "Faramir?" Thorongil asked, worried. "Faramir...may I sit beside you?"
"Yes. Please."
Thorongil sat beside the boy and prepared another question when Faramir dropped the pillow and latched onto Thorongil, clinging to him as though for life itself. After a few seconds Faramir jumped away with a gasp and a profuse apology. "Faramir, shh, breathe, child, it is all right." He moved to comfort Faramir, only to have the boy once again attach himself to Thorongil's side. "All right," he said, stroking Faramir's hair soothingly. "It is all right, Faramir."
"Are they very angry? Elladan and Elrohir and Legolas? Are they angry with me?" Faramir asked, his voice muffled because his head was buried in Thorongil's tunic.
"Actually, I think they may have been angry with me," Thorongil answered. Faramir knew anger and he had seen that someone, though he did not recall who, had had anger in their eyes. Had Thorongil said that no one was angry, Faramir would have known the lie. "You see, I--" Thorongil quickly invented a story, "early today, as I was walking through the gardens, I saw Lady Arwen but, because the sun was in my eyes, I mistook her for Elladan. She took that as something of an insult and the twins were angry with me for upsetting their sister."
Faramir laughed. "I think they hate me."
"They do not understand you," Thorongil answered honestly. "In Elven culture children are rare and are very precious. The way your father treated you...it is unheard of to them. They cannot understand you."
Faramir backed away. "You should not speak of my father that way."
"Faramir...he...what he did to you--"
"I tried to learn how to play your guitar," Faramir interrupted, changing the subject quickly, "but it was difficult. Will you play a song? Please?"
Thorongil submitted. He did not truly wish to discuss Denethor at the moment, either. "All right." Faramir had tried but not managed to keep the instrument in tune. Thorongil took a moment to tighten or loosen the strings, as the case varied, then thought for a moment. "I wrote this, but it has not been played for anyone else so..."
Not sure what came next, Thorongil began his song:
"I was standing by my window
On a cold and cloudy day
When I saw that hearse come rolling
For to carry my mother away.
"Will the circle be unbroken?
By and by lord, by and by
There's a better home awaiting
In the sky, lord, in the sky..."
By the time he finished Faramir was nearly asleep. Thorongil set the instrument by the bed and tucked the blankets around Faramir. He left the room very quietly.
In the corridor, he sighed. If only the twins understood..."Elbereth watch over him," Thorongil whispered. "He has so many battles ahead."
*****
To be continued
'Will The Circle Be Unbroken' is, of course, property of The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. There is a partner story to this chapter, 'And So Cold,' which is a conversation between Estel and Arwen.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed, as always!
Lirenel: Elrond meant that it would be a danger for Faramir to repress his memories of Denethor.
Galorin: Ai, you give credit where none is due! It is not so difficult for me to write the actions and feelings of a child of twelve years, being only fourteen myself and so close to that number. If I write adults well, now that should be an accomplishment. Thanks, though. It is always a pleasure to read your reviews.
Author's note: I am so terribly sorry this took so long! My beta-reader had it for a month before I just looked it through myself. If there are any errors, by the way, please let me know.
****
Faramir awoke shivering, curled into a ball to keep out the cold, and he wondered momentarily if this was some crazy punishment, and if so what he had done, for he had tried so hard to be good! Then he opened his eyes and two things happened at once: Faramir heard merry laughter from out of doors, and he saw the blue coverlet upon which he had fallen asleep.
He stood up, curiosity getting the better of him, though he recalled curiosity earning him a painful beating once and again, and went to the window. It seemed all the world shrouded in a great white mist, until Faramir unlatched the window and pushed it open. Cold air gushed in through the opening, bringing with it the sounds of merriment more loudly. Faramir peered out and saw four figures, three dark-haired and one blonde. After a moment he knew them: Elladan and Elrohir, though he knew not one from the other, Thorongil and Legolas. They were playing, as close as Faramir could tell, knocking each other over and stuffing handfuls of snow down each other's tunics and, not very nicely, trousers.
And words discernible amongst the laughter, "Ai! That was not very kind, Estel!"
"Not at all kind, but well deserved!" answered Thorongil. The elven twins shared a glanced and together knocked him to the ground. In spite of his loud protests, the greatest danger to Thorongil seemed laughing until he could not long breathe and losing consciousness for it!
"Who ever said you two could maul my friend like that?" Legolas asked, bowling over one twin.
At this point another head leaned from another window and accused them, "You boys will wake the dead with your noise!"
The four answer as one, one twin pinning down Thorongil and the other being sat upon by Legolas, "Aw, but Ada!"
Faramir knew that this had occurred more than once before. He feared for them, for Thorongil and the elven twins, for they had been very loud at such an early an hour that Elrond must be furious, and surely he had as strong an arm as a will! For this reason, feeling a terrible cowardice writhing in his belly, Faramir withdrew into the room and slipped from sleeping clothes to daytime attire. He had been given a number of castoffs, with apologies, as he had no other clothing of his own.
Who wore this afore me, Faramir wondered. Whose clothing do I don now? Where has he gone? What did he do in these garments? But very quickly he checked these questions, reminding himself that he had yet to learn the result of lighting Lord Elrond's temper and had no longing to gain this knowledge.
Later in the day, as Faramir attempted to put this experience into his book and felt increasingly frustrated with his inability to do so, he thought to himself, 'I do not suppose anyone knows it, but today I am ten and three years old. Does Thorongil remember?' And so he wrote into his book:
"Today I am a man. Somehow I feel yet like a boy."
"Roan."
Faramir snapped shut the book and sat on it, then felt rather foolish as he met the eyes of his...what? Faramir considered: friend?
"Elrond informs me," Thorongil continued, "that you have not had a bath in some two weeks since you arrived here."
Still Faramir said nothing, only the muscles of his throat going tight to betray his fear.
"Why?"
Faramir shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, restored his vision and shook his head again.
"You do not have to give your reason. But, Roan, you must bathe. It is a matter of hygiene, health and, well, smell."
The boy mastered himself and nodded painfully. He went willingly to have this forced bath, though he spoke naught and seemed more a prisoner being led to his death. But as soon as Faramir saw the tub full of water he rebelled, and had not cast off any garment before retreating against the opposite wall. His eyes grew wide and he shook his head, though no one saw this act. As a wise lamb broke free from slaughter Faramir ran from the room, running for all he was worth as best he could with the ragged breath of fear.
Faramir only stopped running when, his eyes hardly opened, he crashed into someone in the corridor who did not release him. "Calm down, child!" Elladan insisted, holding Faramir still as he would have Estel. "Hold yourself be!"
In fear and to no avail Faramir flailed against the Elf, to Elladan's continued confusion. "Elladan!" Both froze and looked to Thorongil, looking in great surprise and alarm at them. "Leave him be." Elladan stepped back and Faramir, now quite afraid of him, ran to hide behind Thorongil. "No," said Thorongil quietly, "I shall not have that either."
Faramir looked up at him with all the defiance he dared. "I do not care what you do to me," he said quietly, "for I would sooner be beaten than drowned."
Thorongil felt his features attempting to form an expression of horror and pity, and checked himself. It was Elladan who could not control himself, so shocked at this thing being implied of his brother and of the sincere fear in the voice of a small child! "You poor child," he whispered.
"Roan." Thorongil knelt before Faramir, looking up to him rather than down. "No one will hurt while I am here. I promise."
Faramir blinked away tears and swallowed the hot bile rising in his throat. "Do you know how it feels when you cannot breathe? Do you know how your lungs burn with a dry fire, that you drink water to quench the flames? I would rather earn my death with the skin stripped from my back than try again to swallow the water of a full tub of water and have it forced from me."
Thorongil nodded. "Will you take a flannel and a bowl of water and wash yourself in that manner?" To this Faramir consented, and left Elladan and Thorongil to stand and look silently at one another.
Elladan spoke first. "What ever has happened to that boy, Estel, it will take much time to heal! Let us hope he has the strength for it."
Thorongil laughed bitterly. "Why do you think we call him Etana, Elladan? When he tells his story you will see that he, if any among us, has this strength. Though he cannot wield a sword, we are but fleas to his power."
*
Faramir stopped and tugged at his tunic--well, not his exactly, but one of the tunics he had been given. There had been numerous offers of new clothes but Faramir refused them. Somehow he liked the old things, new to him yet broken in at the same time. He thought of the story of his birth as Boromir often whispered to him when Faramir was frightened or upset.
"It was early--too early, really, by two months, but Mother did not care what the healers told her. She knew her child and she knew that he was coming into this world whether they liked it or not! She told them so! Two days later, on the early hours before dawn, her time came. Her ladies dashed about like geese with their heads off, and Mother said so!"
Sitting with a family not his, Faramir remembered how the tale progressed, "They kept telling her 'Push, push!' and Mother, she did just that, but it was hurting her and she was screaming. Her breath sent shivers through her whole body. Just as her strength failed, as Mother readied herself to request the dangerous surgery of the cutting of the infant from the womb, the sun began to rise. Watching the light-rays come over the horizon her strength returned and you, Faramir--you were born with the sun."
"Etana? Roan?"
"Where are you, Sunshine?" Arwen asked him, not teasing but sounding gleeful that she might have been. Faramir looked up at her, utterly confused as to why everyone was saying his name. "We were saying, congratulations. In the world of Men, you are a man today."
Faramir blushed and nodded. "Thank you," he whispered.
"Which among Elves," Legolas joked, "means you are old enough to drink."
Thorongil shook his head and motioned for Legolas not to do this, but, misunderstanding, Legolas answered, "He is old enough, Estel."
Faramir stared a long moment at the decanter in his hands. He felt every weal on his back ripping open, the fire shooting through his body. The time he hit his head on the table, his eyes clouded over...And he knew then, holding that evil in his hands, that he was capable of the same. His hands itched to form fists. Violence rose in his blood, a fearful defiance.
"No!" He stood and threw the decanter with all his might. It shattered against the wall.
One of the twins jumped to his feet. "What is wrong with you, child?" he asked. Faramir's heart raced with fear.
"What is wrong with -you-!" Thorongil shot back, leaping to his feet.
"Perchance this paranoiac child, Estel! Perchance this broken human you have brought into our home!"
"Elrohir!" Mithrandir exclaimed. "I would remind you that, as the son of this house's lord--"
"And I would remind -you-, Mithrandir, and you boys as well," spoke the first truly calm voice to enter the conversation, "that this is -my- house. Grown or no," now Elrond spoke to Elrohir and Thorongil, no longer Mithrandir, "this is my house and if you will not respect me as your father you will remember that I am lord here."
The two sank back into their seats, glaring daggers at each other but keeping their mouths shut. Faramir remained standing. He was in for it now! Shaking with fear, he watched Elrond approach him and struggled to draw himself up to his full height.
Elrond had never before hit a child and he never would. He had no qualms with lecturing nor assigning service hours, but to physically punish someone to young to fully understand, or to control himself...There were many ways to discipline a child without making him afraid. Elrond hugged Faramir. It was all he could think of to do for the trembling boy.
At first Faramir did not understand. Then he knew, he remembered, and his muscles contracted with fear and memory. When Elrond drew away from Faramir, he said, "You are excused if you wish to be but otherwise encouraged to stay."
Faramir turned and ran. The group left there was silent, anger and confusion boiling. Thorongil knelt to gather up the shards of the glass decanter. "Estel, don't--"
He turned to look at Legolas, eyes flashing angrily. "Don't -what-? How do I know he will not be sorry, will not come back and clean up after himself? It is what I would have done and frankly, Legolas, I am less worried for my dignity than for his safety. Handling pieces of broken glass generally is -unsafe-!"
Thorongil continued his task in silence. They all knew this division, and for individual reasons did not move to help him. Elrond and Mithrandir understood that this fight was not theirs to enter. Legolas and the twins wished to help their brother, or friend, but could no choose between him and this boy, who brought on this split and seemed, far as they knew, beyond the realms of sanity. The idea of abuse never occurred to them, by their own millenia-old ignorance.
It was the most reserved, pleasant member of their group who moved to help their Estel: it was Arwen who pushed her chair back and knelt beside him. He looked up and smiled his thanks. She smiled in return. "I do not understand this, Estel, but I do trust you." Arwen swallowed her tears, for though her undertones spoke specifically of her brothers the meaning of her choice carried much heavier implications for her father. She hated making him cry, and knew she had done so, that even with dry eyes Elrond cried.
What had not counted on any tears, nor did she notice them until they fell upon her hands. "Estel..."
"It is only the pain," he mumbled, drawing attention to the cuts on his palms from the many glass fragments. "Here, it is done." He dropped the pieces of glass onto the table. "Good night."
*
"Faramir?"
"Thorongil--" Faramir sat up and moved to rise, but before he could stand Thorongil was sitting on the ground beside the bed.
"This is for you."
"What is it?"
"Um..." Suddenly he felt mightily stupid. "Food. And, and some papers you might...I thought you might be interested in."
Faramir mumbled his thanks through a mouthful of food. For a while his chewing was the only sound in the room, then curiosity got the better of him and he asked, "Is he strong?"
"Is who strong?"
"Lord Elrond. I mean--I know why, and I deserve it, but I just want to know."
"He is strong," Thorongil answered honestly, "but he is not going to hurt you."
"But...he hugged me."
"Of course he did. Whenever one of his children was frightened or upset he would hug them."
"Are...are you...Is he your sire?"
Thorongil considered. "In some ways. He raised me. My sire died when I was small." He told few people of this, but Faramir was different. Faramir was in Imladris to heal, and Thorongil had brought him, so he would tell him the truth if it was asked for. "Do you miss your father?"
"No," Faramir answered over-quickly. He fell silent and drew deep within himself, to a place no pain could penetrate, then he continued, "Father...would hug me sometimes...tell me he was sorry...something had gotten into him, but it was gone, he wanted to make amends..." His voice caught, and he gasped out his next words, "It always hurt more after that. I believed him every time but he would be angry at me for causing him weakness. After I killed my mother, he..."
Faramir grabbed his pillow and bit into it to keep from crying. He rocked back and forth, muttering to himself. "Faramir?" Thorongil asked, worried. "Faramir...may I sit beside you?"
"Yes. Please."
Thorongil sat beside the boy and prepared another question when Faramir dropped the pillow and latched onto Thorongil, clinging to him as though for life itself. After a few seconds Faramir jumped away with a gasp and a profuse apology. "Faramir, shh, breathe, child, it is all right." He moved to comfort Faramir, only to have the boy once again attach himself to Thorongil's side. "All right," he said, stroking Faramir's hair soothingly. "It is all right, Faramir."
"Are they very angry? Elladan and Elrohir and Legolas? Are they angry with me?" Faramir asked, his voice muffled because his head was buried in Thorongil's tunic.
"Actually, I think they may have been angry with me," Thorongil answered. Faramir knew anger and he had seen that someone, though he did not recall who, had had anger in their eyes. Had Thorongil said that no one was angry, Faramir would have known the lie. "You see, I--" Thorongil quickly invented a story, "early today, as I was walking through the gardens, I saw Lady Arwen but, because the sun was in my eyes, I mistook her for Elladan. She took that as something of an insult and the twins were angry with me for upsetting their sister."
Faramir laughed. "I think they hate me."
"They do not understand you," Thorongil answered honestly. "In Elven culture children are rare and are very precious. The way your father treated you...it is unheard of to them. They cannot understand you."
Faramir backed away. "You should not speak of my father that way."
"Faramir...he...what he did to you--"
"I tried to learn how to play your guitar," Faramir interrupted, changing the subject quickly, "but it was difficult. Will you play a song? Please?"
Thorongil submitted. He did not truly wish to discuss Denethor at the moment, either. "All right." Faramir had tried but not managed to keep the instrument in tune. Thorongil took a moment to tighten or loosen the strings, as the case varied, then thought for a moment. "I wrote this, but it has not been played for anyone else so..."
Not sure what came next, Thorongil began his song:
"I was standing by my window
On a cold and cloudy day
When I saw that hearse come rolling
For to carry my mother away.
"Will the circle be unbroken?
By and by lord, by and by
There's a better home awaiting
In the sky, lord, in the sky..."
By the time he finished Faramir was nearly asleep. Thorongil set the instrument by the bed and tucked the blankets around Faramir. He left the room very quietly.
In the corridor, he sighed. If only the twins understood..."Elbereth watch over him," Thorongil whispered. "He has so many battles ahead."
*****
To be continued
'Will The Circle Be Unbroken' is, of course, property of The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. There is a partner story to this chapter, 'And So Cold,' which is a conversation between Estel and Arwen.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed, as always!
Lirenel: Elrond meant that it would be a danger for Faramir to repress his memories of Denethor.
Galorin: Ai, you give credit where none is due! It is not so difficult for me to write the actions and feelings of a child of twelve years, being only fourteen myself and so close to that number. If I write adults well, now that should be an accomplishment. Thanks, though. It is always a pleasure to read your reviews.