The act of Disclaiming * And thou shalt disclaim that you ownest nothing,
and thy lawyers brandishing lawsuits shall be appeased* - I own
nothing...yeah...though I want to know if Tolkien or his estate is interested
in selling me Boromir...
-*-*-*-*-
The dim light of winter filtered in through the glass window, falling through the filmy curtains of Rhoswen's bed. The young woman blinked at the light from the open window, and yawned. The sound of children's voices echoed in the corridors, along with the metallic banging of pots and pans.
"Kings and lords must now give way! Lords of Misrule rule the day!"
"It is the first of the Midwinter festival, milady." Maire said, holding the curtains back with one hand and the dress her mistress was to wear that day draped over the other. Rhoswen took the dress from her maid, and undraped the fur-lined robe from a waiting chair, and went to change behind her screen.
"Have you wrapped my gifts for Faramir and the Steward, Maire?" The nightgown flipped over the top of the screen.
"I have, milady. Please take care. You are prone to colds in this weather- dress quickly." Rhoswen came out from the screen, and offered the ties on her dress to her servant, who laced them up with expert ease. There was a knocking at the door, and the lady in waiting went to go answer it while Rhoswen broke the ice on her wash bowl, and splashed the ice liquid on her face, briefly reveling in the rosewater's smell. The noble woman was just sponging off the last of the rose scented drops when her maid ushered in the page in the livery of the Steward, wearing a black tunic with a tree picked out in white that fit him ill. The child bent on one knee, and offered the rose in his hands, his head bowed to the floor.
"Lord Faramir presents this rose as a token of esteem for his sister, and requests that she pay visit at earliest convenience." Rhoswen smiled, and took the rose.
"Tell the Lord Faramir that I will join him in the quickest manner possible." The boy got up, bowed stiffly, and left. Rhoswen looked fondly at the rose in her hands, and held her arms out as Maire slid the sable edged surcoat over her mulberry dress.
"Let us not keep my lordship waiting."
Faramir turned from his gazing out the snow fraught window as Rhoswen entered the solar, rushing to greet his brother's fiancé, cutting a demure and unassuming figure of the rose for which she was named in the rubine purple and darker crimson of her dress and coat.
"A merry midwinter to you, Brother."
"A merry midwinter to you as well, Rhoswen. I trust you enjoyed the rose?"
"Wherever did you find it? There is snow on the ground...I thought all the roses dead."
"Save for one, and that is in the possession of my brother. No, I have far too many friends in the city who were willing to sacrifice a bloom for the fiancé of the High Warden. But enough of the rose- I have a far more dear gift for you...From Boromir." Faramir picked up the parcel from the table, and handed it to his sister in law. She let the gorgeous violet velvet folds of a cloak embroidered in leaves fall to the floor, marveling at the warm touch of the fabric.
"Faramir...it too beautiful for Boromir alone to have picked out. You had some hand in it, I know that far." Faramir shrugged.
"I could hardly let him give you a black cloak, could I? You would look like a Nazgul." They both laughed.
"I have another gift for you."
"You spoil me, brother." Faramir beckoned to the chamberlain, who opened the door and let a pair of dogs come yelping into the room. The two skidded to a halt in front of Faramir, who raised a command-laced voice.
"Siobhan! Dubhliann! Heel!" The dogs obediently stopped and sat, tags thumping expectantly on the floor. Faramir knelt down, starching throats and crooning praises.
"This one," He pointed at the black and gray, "is Dubhliann, and the other is his sister, Siobhan." He gestured a hand at the tawny female. The rangers found them...six months ago when they were just pups, and trained them to be some of the best hunting dogs I've ever seen. Dubhliann is staying here, and Siobhan is going back to Ithilien so she can hunt partridge with me." He looked at his sister in law, beaming as she reached a hand to let Dubhliann sniff and lick the proffered limb. "What do you think?"
"I think he is beautiful, Faramir. Thank you for him." She rubbed a hand on the dog's short coat, and the animal sat down lazily, looking up at his mistress with liquid calm eyes. She got up and gestured Maire forward, taking the package the maid held.
"This is for you." Faramir ripped the string off, and unfolded a soft shirt, sewn with love and care by his sister in law.
"Rhoswen, I can only say that my brother is a lucky man indeed for having found such a good seamstress. I will wear it to the banquet tonight. Rhos...be you ill?" the lady's face had fallen, and she turned form her brother in law to the window, gazing out over the snow frosted landscape.
"Have you any word from Boromir, brother?"
"None, though I am sad placed to say such, Rhos. We had one, saying that he reached Imaladris and that the elves were nice folk, abet still not to be trusted in their wierding ways, and another saying that he did not know how long his errand would keep him...but he said naught of how the councils went. But words were passed...which were meant, I can only assume, for you." Rhoswen turned to look at Faramir again.
"What did he say."
"That he wished to hold you in his arms again...and many other things I should not like to repeat now." Faramir looked uncomfortably at his boots. Rhoswen pulled herself closer to Faramir, uplifting his chin to gaze into her eyes.
"You know, don't you...you know of what happened before he left..."
"I could not help but hear, milady." Faramir hung his head again, and Rhoswen continued to look out the window, somewhat despondent.
"There is not shame in it...and the healers tell me I have no child of the Steward's son in my womb." She looked back suddenly at Faramir, a fear in her eyes.
"You have not told the Steward, have you?"
"Nay; I keep those private things only in my heart. It is not for father to know love, since he has lost what he had long ago." The Steward's younger son's words seemed harsh and despairing.
"I know your father's graces are not always on you, my dear brother, but what is the displeasure of a father when the love of a brother and sister can be yours? Love is, after all, worth much more than abhorrence. Now come, Faramir, and we shall face your father together. I have heard misery loves company."
"You hate him as much as I do!"
"No, I dislike him-he is wrapped up in what has been and what cannot be changed, and there for is not high in my fondnesses. Come now; the formalities cannot be escaped." She took the shirt from his hands, laid it on the table, and walked her brother out the door, a reassuring hand on his arm. "Perhaps we can find you a young woman to dance with!" Rhoswen laughed, and Faramir could not help but laugh too as the shorter woman escorted him down the hall, chatting enthusiastically. Maire looked down the hallway, and then back at the dogs, still lying lethargically on the floor.
"If I didn't know she was engaged to his brother, I'd say there's more than brotherly love in her heart for the lord Faramir."
The dogs yawned.
The great hall of Kings was filled with laughter and merriment, with bright clad jugglers and musicians roaming about the hall. Many lords and ladies from distant reaches of Gondor had come to celebrate the turning of the year. Snagging two glasses of the spiced wine that let its tang waft through the air at random, Faramir handed one to his sister as she walked to the chair in which the steward was sitting.
"Wes Hail, Steward Denethor!" The aging steward looked at his daughter in law, and smiled, stepping down from the dais on which his chair sat.
"Rhoswen! You look far too beautiful for words tonight, daughter." Rhoswen laughed, and Denethor grasped one of her hands in two of his, kissing the proffered hand. "My son was wise indeed to consider you. Now come, I have gifts for you. For both of you." Faramir was taken aback...Did Father really want to pay him heed this night?
In a small side chamber, where the music and the light was dulled, Denethor presented Rhoswen with a small carven box. She looked at the lid, then at Denethor, and Faramir, and opened it.
Inside, nestled on velvet folds, was a necklace, silver cord threaded with a single pendant, circular in size. The young woman lifted the necklace out with gentle fingers, holding the pendant so it could catch the light. In the center of the knot worked circle, a large, single ruby was set, and around the edge, Rhoswen could faintly see gold glowing runes in the silver.
"What do the runes mean? I do not speak the ancient tongues."
"A blessing for the home, tis all." The steward ran a finger by the runes as he read them. "From the hearth in the hall, to the shield on the wall, may this house stand in blessing for king and for all. And it is my hope that your house will be blessed in manner not unlike to this." Rhoswen embraced her father in law.
"Thank you my lord...this gift is too much to receive."
"But not too much for me to give. And Faramir...I had hoped to give one to your brother, but he will get his in his turn." He unwrapped from black velveteen folds a knife, the hilts of black wood inlaid with pearl Elvish letters, spelling out his name in soft curves and gently waving lines.
"I have the other for your brother, the companion to that one. Many blessings for the new year, son of mine." He hugged his son and held him close, but Faramir could only wonder...why was it he did this?
-*-*-* I have no intent to make anything happen between Faramir and Rhoswen, though many of you have been led astray (on purpose) by my hints. I do humbly beg forgiveness from the Faramir/ Éowyn shippers for this misstep.
On another note- I think I'm going to make this plea standard.
In reviews (Which I KNOW you'll give me because you are nice people) I would like you to tell me specifically what it was you liked, if I can improve, how I can improve, and what I can improve on. A little more than- it was great, I loved it, write more, if you please.
Thank you for your continued cooperation and support.
Mercury G.
-*-*-*-*-
The dim light of winter filtered in through the glass window, falling through the filmy curtains of Rhoswen's bed. The young woman blinked at the light from the open window, and yawned. The sound of children's voices echoed in the corridors, along with the metallic banging of pots and pans.
"Kings and lords must now give way! Lords of Misrule rule the day!"
"It is the first of the Midwinter festival, milady." Maire said, holding the curtains back with one hand and the dress her mistress was to wear that day draped over the other. Rhoswen took the dress from her maid, and undraped the fur-lined robe from a waiting chair, and went to change behind her screen.
"Have you wrapped my gifts for Faramir and the Steward, Maire?" The nightgown flipped over the top of the screen.
"I have, milady. Please take care. You are prone to colds in this weather- dress quickly." Rhoswen came out from the screen, and offered the ties on her dress to her servant, who laced them up with expert ease. There was a knocking at the door, and the lady in waiting went to go answer it while Rhoswen broke the ice on her wash bowl, and splashed the ice liquid on her face, briefly reveling in the rosewater's smell. The noble woman was just sponging off the last of the rose scented drops when her maid ushered in the page in the livery of the Steward, wearing a black tunic with a tree picked out in white that fit him ill. The child bent on one knee, and offered the rose in his hands, his head bowed to the floor.
"Lord Faramir presents this rose as a token of esteem for his sister, and requests that she pay visit at earliest convenience." Rhoswen smiled, and took the rose.
"Tell the Lord Faramir that I will join him in the quickest manner possible." The boy got up, bowed stiffly, and left. Rhoswen looked fondly at the rose in her hands, and held her arms out as Maire slid the sable edged surcoat over her mulberry dress.
"Let us not keep my lordship waiting."
Faramir turned from his gazing out the snow fraught window as Rhoswen entered the solar, rushing to greet his brother's fiancé, cutting a demure and unassuming figure of the rose for which she was named in the rubine purple and darker crimson of her dress and coat.
"A merry midwinter to you, Brother."
"A merry midwinter to you as well, Rhoswen. I trust you enjoyed the rose?"
"Wherever did you find it? There is snow on the ground...I thought all the roses dead."
"Save for one, and that is in the possession of my brother. No, I have far too many friends in the city who were willing to sacrifice a bloom for the fiancé of the High Warden. But enough of the rose- I have a far more dear gift for you...From Boromir." Faramir picked up the parcel from the table, and handed it to his sister in law. She let the gorgeous violet velvet folds of a cloak embroidered in leaves fall to the floor, marveling at the warm touch of the fabric.
"Faramir...it too beautiful for Boromir alone to have picked out. You had some hand in it, I know that far." Faramir shrugged.
"I could hardly let him give you a black cloak, could I? You would look like a Nazgul." They both laughed.
"I have another gift for you."
"You spoil me, brother." Faramir beckoned to the chamberlain, who opened the door and let a pair of dogs come yelping into the room. The two skidded to a halt in front of Faramir, who raised a command-laced voice.
"Siobhan! Dubhliann! Heel!" The dogs obediently stopped and sat, tags thumping expectantly on the floor. Faramir knelt down, starching throats and crooning praises.
"This one," He pointed at the black and gray, "is Dubhliann, and the other is his sister, Siobhan." He gestured a hand at the tawny female. The rangers found them...six months ago when they were just pups, and trained them to be some of the best hunting dogs I've ever seen. Dubhliann is staying here, and Siobhan is going back to Ithilien so she can hunt partridge with me." He looked at his sister in law, beaming as she reached a hand to let Dubhliann sniff and lick the proffered limb. "What do you think?"
"I think he is beautiful, Faramir. Thank you for him." She rubbed a hand on the dog's short coat, and the animal sat down lazily, looking up at his mistress with liquid calm eyes. She got up and gestured Maire forward, taking the package the maid held.
"This is for you." Faramir ripped the string off, and unfolded a soft shirt, sewn with love and care by his sister in law.
"Rhoswen, I can only say that my brother is a lucky man indeed for having found such a good seamstress. I will wear it to the banquet tonight. Rhos...be you ill?" the lady's face had fallen, and she turned form her brother in law to the window, gazing out over the snow frosted landscape.
"Have you any word from Boromir, brother?"
"None, though I am sad placed to say such, Rhos. We had one, saying that he reached Imaladris and that the elves were nice folk, abet still not to be trusted in their wierding ways, and another saying that he did not know how long his errand would keep him...but he said naught of how the councils went. But words were passed...which were meant, I can only assume, for you." Rhoswen turned to look at Faramir again.
"What did he say."
"That he wished to hold you in his arms again...and many other things I should not like to repeat now." Faramir looked uncomfortably at his boots. Rhoswen pulled herself closer to Faramir, uplifting his chin to gaze into her eyes.
"You know, don't you...you know of what happened before he left..."
"I could not help but hear, milady." Faramir hung his head again, and Rhoswen continued to look out the window, somewhat despondent.
"There is not shame in it...and the healers tell me I have no child of the Steward's son in my womb." She looked back suddenly at Faramir, a fear in her eyes.
"You have not told the Steward, have you?"
"Nay; I keep those private things only in my heart. It is not for father to know love, since he has lost what he had long ago." The Steward's younger son's words seemed harsh and despairing.
"I know your father's graces are not always on you, my dear brother, but what is the displeasure of a father when the love of a brother and sister can be yours? Love is, after all, worth much more than abhorrence. Now come, Faramir, and we shall face your father together. I have heard misery loves company."
"You hate him as much as I do!"
"No, I dislike him-he is wrapped up in what has been and what cannot be changed, and there for is not high in my fondnesses. Come now; the formalities cannot be escaped." She took the shirt from his hands, laid it on the table, and walked her brother out the door, a reassuring hand on his arm. "Perhaps we can find you a young woman to dance with!" Rhoswen laughed, and Faramir could not help but laugh too as the shorter woman escorted him down the hall, chatting enthusiastically. Maire looked down the hallway, and then back at the dogs, still lying lethargically on the floor.
"If I didn't know she was engaged to his brother, I'd say there's more than brotherly love in her heart for the lord Faramir."
The dogs yawned.
The great hall of Kings was filled with laughter and merriment, with bright clad jugglers and musicians roaming about the hall. Many lords and ladies from distant reaches of Gondor had come to celebrate the turning of the year. Snagging two glasses of the spiced wine that let its tang waft through the air at random, Faramir handed one to his sister as she walked to the chair in which the steward was sitting.
"Wes Hail, Steward Denethor!" The aging steward looked at his daughter in law, and smiled, stepping down from the dais on which his chair sat.
"Rhoswen! You look far too beautiful for words tonight, daughter." Rhoswen laughed, and Denethor grasped one of her hands in two of his, kissing the proffered hand. "My son was wise indeed to consider you. Now come, I have gifts for you. For both of you." Faramir was taken aback...Did Father really want to pay him heed this night?
In a small side chamber, where the music and the light was dulled, Denethor presented Rhoswen with a small carven box. She looked at the lid, then at Denethor, and Faramir, and opened it.
Inside, nestled on velvet folds, was a necklace, silver cord threaded with a single pendant, circular in size. The young woman lifted the necklace out with gentle fingers, holding the pendant so it could catch the light. In the center of the knot worked circle, a large, single ruby was set, and around the edge, Rhoswen could faintly see gold glowing runes in the silver.
"What do the runes mean? I do not speak the ancient tongues."
"A blessing for the home, tis all." The steward ran a finger by the runes as he read them. "From the hearth in the hall, to the shield on the wall, may this house stand in blessing for king and for all. And it is my hope that your house will be blessed in manner not unlike to this." Rhoswen embraced her father in law.
"Thank you my lord...this gift is too much to receive."
"But not too much for me to give. And Faramir...I had hoped to give one to your brother, but he will get his in his turn." He unwrapped from black velveteen folds a knife, the hilts of black wood inlaid with pearl Elvish letters, spelling out his name in soft curves and gently waving lines.
"I have the other for your brother, the companion to that one. Many blessings for the new year, son of mine." He hugged his son and held him close, but Faramir could only wonder...why was it he did this?
-*-*-* I have no intent to make anything happen between Faramir and Rhoswen, though many of you have been led astray (on purpose) by my hints. I do humbly beg forgiveness from the Faramir/ Éowyn shippers for this misstep.
On another note- I think I'm going to make this plea standard.
In reviews (Which I KNOW you'll give me because you are nice people) I would like you to tell me specifically what it was you liked, if I can improve, how I can improve, and what I can improve on. A little more than- it was great, I loved it, write more, if you please.
Thank you for your continued cooperation and support.
Mercury G.