A/N: A LOT longer. I think my longest chapter thus far. A lot of songs in
this one. Reviewers, please tell me if you like all the songs, or you would
rather have less! Tolkien owns everyone but Isilmë, who is a poor victim of
my twisted mind. Some Elvish. This chapter is the one that earns this story
the PG rating, I suppose. Was tempted to raise the rating, but denied
myself. I have now come up with the ending of the story, and I feel that
'Jazmin 3 Firewing' shall be very pleased.
Many thanks to the reviewers, especially "Araniel", who has really encouraged me. To 'Jazmin 3 Firewing', of course I know I'm going to have to demolish Faramir and Isilmë's relationship, but I am not doing that yet. This chapter foreshadows her end, though, and this is basically the turning point for it. I'm enjoying her fictional life as long as possible! Thanks to all the reviewers! Keep R/R!
Chapter 7: Our night, you and I
Late at dusk, Boromir returned to the City also, and for him, Denethor ordered an elaborate dinner. After much persuasion from his elder son and foster daughter, he finally consented to have Mithrandir at the dinner table, out of what Boromir put as "common courtesy".
Gandalf sat silently, without a word at the table. Denethor would have thought that he was finally accepting Denethor's hostility and keeping silent for fear of conflict, but that was not the case. He was observing the young Lords of Gondor, and their Lady, especially the latter.
She served them all food before sitting down to her own, next to Faramir, who offered her a smile, which she returned. Both Boromir and Denethor noticed, but the reactions of father and son were drastically opposite. Boromir laughed to himself, happy that two so dear to him were happy together. He smiled at the way they seemed to understand each other and cared for one another, and it filled his heart with warmth. Denethor however, looked at them grimly and coldly, believing that such a love would not last and could not stand the endurance of time and his wisdom would prevail, to some extent.
After the meal was done, Boromir called for music, and the minstrels played their pieces, but Boromir seemed unsatisfied. He called to Isilmë and his brother, "Come, sing your brother a song," he coaxed.
Faramir was a bit reluctant, fearing the wrath of Denethor, but seeing the good-natured grin on his brother's face, could not say no. He fetched his lyre while Isilmë handled her fiddle with the usual grace. "What do you wish to hear, my Lord?" she asked formally.
"Anything you wish," Boromir replied, with a glance to his father. With a look to Faramir, she struck the first passage on her fiddle, and upon hearing it, he continued on his lyre, and she sang:
Strange, how my heart beats
To find myself on your shore
Strange how still I feel
My loss of comfort gone before
Cool waves wash over
And drift away with dreams of youth
Time is stolen
I cannot hold you for long
Faramir joined the song, and their voices enmeshed perfectly to create a heavenly melody:
And so this is where I should be now
She sang, "Days and nights falling by," and he echoed, "Days and nights falling by me."
I know of a dream I should be holding
Days and nights falling by
Days and nights falling by me
He sang alone, his blue eyes full of love fixated upon her face:
Soft blue horizons
Reach far into my childhood days
As you are rising
To bring me my forgotten ways
Strange how I falter
To find I'm standing in deep water
Strange how my heart beats
To find I'm standing on your shore
She joined him:
And so this is where I should be now
Echoing each other: Days and nights falling by
Days and nights falling by me
I know of a dream I should be holding
Days and nights falling by
Days and nights falling by me
The music slowed, and stopped:
Strange how my heart beats
To find I'm standing on your shore.
As their voices faded into the night, their gazes were locked in each other's. His blue eyes were filled with a fire, the fire of love. They clearly showed his love for her, his need for her, while her sea-grey eyes reflected his desire.
"There are three things I miss out in the wilderness," Boromir said, breaking the moment, "The food, the company, and the beautiful singing of the two of you." Isilmë smiled gratefully, barely managing to tear herself away from Faramir's intent gaze. "Thank you Boromir. We miss you here, when you're gone."
"I miss you, little sister, and your songs," Boromir replied.
"Mithrandir," Isilmë suddenly addressed the wizard, lost deep in his thoughts, but taking in everything around him, "Do you sing?"
"No, my young Lady, I do not, at least, not as well as you," Gandalf answered.
"Come, sing us a song," she beckoned. Gandalf shook his head. After Isilmë's persistence, Gandalf finally offered an alternative, "How about this, my persistent lady, why don't you sing another song for us? A song that you think befitting for an old man like me, and I will join you and learn it in the end." Isilmë seemed convinced and flattered by the suggestion. She struck up a tune, and the minstrels followed.
Pilgrim, how you journey
On the road you chose
To find out why the winds die
And where the stories go.
All days come from one day
That much you must know
You cannot change what's over
But only where you go
One way leads to diamonds,
One way leads to gold
Another leads you only,
To everything you're told
In your heart you wonder
Which of these is true?
The roads that leads to nowhere,
The road that leads to you
Will you find the answer in all you say and do?
Will you find the answer in you?
Each heart is a pilgrim,
Each one wants to know
The reason why the winds die
And where the stories go,
Pilgrim, in your journey
You may travel far,
For pilgrim, it's a long way
To find out who you are...
Pilgrim, it's a long way
To find out who you are
As she finished, Gandalf applauded, a twinkle in his eyes. Denethor was grimmer than ever, a scowl firmly appearing upon his face.
"Who taught you that song?" Mithrandir asked.
"I read part of a verse in a book of lore years ago, and I sort of wrote my own verses to accompany it and a melody. Well, Faramir helped me with the melody, for he is far better with that than I am."
Faramir smiled, "It is hard to rival you in your use of words. Such eloquence would rival the Elven masters of old."
"If only Faramir were far better than others in swordsmanship and valor against the Enemy, not dwell in libraries writing tunes for songs of folly," Denethor's icy voice pierced through the warm cloud of love. Faramir looked down, determined not to let his father ruin this night. It was their night, his and Isilmë's, and he was not going to let his father ruin it, let alone get to him. He would not be home for a long while, and he was going to share his last day and night with her, regardless of what his father said or did. Boromir started talking again, to cover the uncomfortable silence that ensued. Faramir reached beneath the table to clasp Isilmë's hand, who smiled and gave his a squeeze. Denethor finally retired, after scrutinizing his younger children closely, warning them in his gaze, of what, they did not know. Gandalf sat outside, smoking his pipe, his thoughts straying to another land. Boromir bid them a fair night and chastised playfully, "Do not stay up too late. And don't do anything you might one day rue."
"Sleep, brother," Faramir ushered. Boromir gave Isilmë a playful smile, winked, and murmured, "If he tries anything, Elentari, just scream, and I'll be there."
"Sleep, toronya*," she echoed Faramir. Finally, Boromir disappeared into the comfort of his room, leaving the couple alone. They sat in silence for a while, in the dim candlelight, losing themselves in the embrace of the other.
"Faramir," she breathed softly.
"Yes?" he replied, his face buried in her soft hair, taking in her familiar scent.
"Might I suggest we move out of the corridor, as it is near midnight, and two shadowy figures out in the darkness may be taken unfavorably, by a passerby."
"Hmm, I suppose so," Faramir murmured, unwilling to pull his head out of her hair and shoulder.
"Come on, melda*," she moved toward her room, dragging him along. She pulled open the door silently and moved in. Faramir tapped the door close with his foot. Melda. She had called him 'her love'; her love, not the usual toronya, my brother, but my love. Faramir heard her words and felt he was in bliss.
Isilmë stood behind her window, as she always did, bathing in the moonlight watching the stars, wishing she could be among them, instead of trapped behind the window. Her hands were upon the white wood of the sill, her face almost pressed to the glass so that her breath was seen upon it. Faramir stood behind her, the top of her head reaching his chin, which he placed upon her head. She felt him slip his arms around her waist and could feel his chest rising and falling behind her with each breath he took.
"inyë melme le*," he breathed.
"ar inyë le*," was the loving response. Those words ignited such a joy in his heart that he felt he could fly like Earendil of old. Silence ensued.
"Take me to Ithilien with you," she whispered suddenly, pleading with him, "Please. Take me with you. Take me to a place where I can look at the stars without being behind bars."
"I can't. I wish I could, melda. I wish I could. I wish I could take you with me wherever I went," he regretted, stroking her hair.
"Please Faramir. I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to stay within stone, trapped. Please, let me free. Take me with you," desperation in her voice. Her weakness tore his heart apart, and it killed him, hurt him more than any Orc arrow, to see her suffering, but he could not help her. He wanted to, but he could not.
"I wouldn't stay in Amroth for you were not there. I came back to Minas Tirith because I knew you would be here. I left the Sea. I left the waters of the Sea. I left the swirling tides," she muttered, sounding for the first time since Finduilas's death, like a child-afraid. A dark wave of foreboding swept over Faramir's heart. He would lose her. He would lose her to the Sea. She had Elven blood, which meant she had the Elven longing that was perilous to stir. She had visited Dol Amroth, had been at the Sea, and now he would lose her to it.
"Now you will no longer be here at Minas Tirith. There is no sense in returning, except out of love for Father, and for the comfort of familiarity. I cannot go to Ithilien, but I can go to Amroth. Yet I am not happy there," she continued to stammer, almost to herself, by now, turning, her back to her beloved stars, holding on to Faramir desperately, like a stiff breeze could blow her away from him forever. Tears were threatening her eyes and she made no effort to conceal them. She had concealed them for too long, hid her loneliness for too long, put a mask over her melancholy. She felt ashamed of herself for showing such weakness. She did not know where all this: all these feelings, all these tears came from. They just flowed out from her, like an obstinate current that could not be stopped, bottled up from all her years of loneliness and grief, now overflowing. Faramir could feel it pouring out of her heart, as he felt her tears soaking his shirt. He could find no words to comfort her, merely held her, which was all she wanted, all she needed. Her slender body wracked with her heart-wrenching sobs.
"I'm sorry Faramir. I'm so sorry. I do not know where all this came from," she apologized, choking on her tears.
"Shh," he cradled her in his arms, "I promise you. I will build a home for you in Ithilien one day. I promise," he vowed, but little did he know that he would one day do that for another. "There, you can look at the stars every night, without being behind bars. You can fly through the woods without thoughts of turning back. You can let the wind sweep you away. You can be free, Isilmë," he promised. She smiled through the tears and kissed his cheek. Using one finger, he tenderly brushed away a tear trickling slowly down her cheek, and then cupped her face in his hands.
"I love you. I do not care what Father or Boromir or any one else says. I love you, my Isilmë," Faramir whispered.
"And I you. I will wait here in Minas Tirith for your return," she promised, looking down, as her heart did not want to. Though it was her home, she hated it in the White City, the white stone city. Faramir lifted up her chin and placed a kiss upon her lips. She smiled and returned it, though this time they did not part. They kissed passionately, ardently, as if they needed to draw breath from the other.
When they finally parted, which seemed like ages later, Faramir teased, "Now I know why Elves and Dwarves hate each other. You can't stand to be inside the cold stone."
"I love Minas Tirith. It is my home. It's just that I feel trapped in the City, without sunshine or trees. Sometimes, especially at night, I feel a shadow creeping upon me and I feel like the stone walls are enveloping me, trying to suffocate me."
"That is why you gaze at the stars at night," Faramir breathed, knowing now why she stayed by her window every night.
"Yes, Lady Varda gives me strength to carry on."
Faramir sighed and shook his head, "You should have been raised in Rivendell, or Lóthlorien. Not here. Not in the city of stone."
"Hey, trying to get rid of me?"
"Never. From a selfish standpoint, I am glad you are here, but I hate to see you suffer."
"I'll be fine," Isilmë ensured him, though in her heart she did not believe it, "Besides, when it gets to where I can't stand it, and you're no where in sight, I'll visit Amroth for a few days."
"Do you like it there?" Faramir questioned and intently looked into her eyes, knowing he could see the answer there.
She thought about it for a moment, "It's beautiful there. The Sea, it's breathtaking. The green, the trees, the lomelindë*. It's beautiful," she described, her eyes gazing south, "but it's not home."
"Where is home?" Faramir asked quietly, hoping she would not answer what he thought she would-the Sea.
"Home is where the heart is, where you are," she replied gently. Their lips met again and this time, Faramir did not remember when they parted.
He awoke the next morning, finding himself in Isilmë's bed, still fully dressed. He looked over to find her still sleeping, her face content and sorrow less. To him she looked beautiful, at peace. He leaned over, and planted a kiss on her cheek. She stirred a little bit, uttered a little groan, and nestled her head between his shoulder and head, as if to block out the sunlight. Faramir wrapped his arms around her and felt this was the way he could stay forever, with her. He fell into a light doze until he felt her stir beside him. He opened his eyes to see her blinking unsteadily, willing her eyes to become accustomed to the light.
"manë arin, melda,*" he said, smiling at her appearance. Her right eye was larger than her left, as she was barely awake and her sleep-tousled her curled around her face like a frame.
"Hmm," was the only response he received. She groaned, stretched herself out, and tried to hide her face in his shoulder, not wanting to awaken.
"Come on Isilmë, it's mid-morning," he coaxed, failing to restrain a laugh at her sleep-ridden appearance. She moaned and shook her head violently and buried her face further into his shoulder.
"Why do we have to get up?" she groaned as she finally succumbed to consciousness, at least somewhat, as her eyes were still firmly shut.
"Because we cannot spend the whole day in bed," Faramir said.
"Why?"
"Because Illuvatar willed it when he created the race of Men," he said, laughing at her unwillingness to rise.
"Well if I ever meet Illuvatar I shall certainly bring that up as a complaint," she pouted, finally opening her eyes and looking at him. He smiled, finding her beautiful even in her half-awakened state.
"Come melda, you have to get up sometime," he enticed, kissing the tip of her nose.
"I don't want that sometime to be now. Besides, I'm still dressed," she said glancing at her attire from the night before.
"As am I," Faramir replied.
"Fine. Since I am awake now, unfortunately, thanks to someone here," she said, putting particular stress on the word 'someone', "Can we not get up? Can we just lay here until someone comes and yells at us like they did when we were younger?"
"I remember. We would go swimming in the pond and we would stay there for hours at a time, almost missing dinner, until Father or Boromir sent someone looking for us, which most often lead to a lecture or scolding."
"We could never miss dinner. You would always be hungry," she smiled, remembering the good old days.
"As I am now," Faramir said, a smile encircling his lips. He felt that when he was with her, he couldn't help but smile. Upon hearing his reply, Isilmë rolled her eyes.
Just then, a knock was heard on the door, "Elentari! Are you in there? You have to be. I haven't seen you all morning."
"That would be Boromir. Right on cue," she sighed. "Yes I am in here, as it is my room."
"Are you dressed? Can I come in?"
"I am dressed, but no, you cannot," she replied. However, the door opened, "Too late," Boromir said, a grin upon his face. However, upon seeing Faramir there, he froze, his eyes scanning the two of them, from the covers of the bed, to their faces.
"I see you never did make it back to your room, Faramir," Boromir said. Faramir could only grin sheepishly.
"Well, Father has been asking for the two of you. He came to your room in the morning, and when he found no one in there, his eyes darted to your door Elentari, and he scowled, and then turned and stalked away," Boromir informed. Elentari and Faramir merely glanced at each other, knowing that their father would be angry.
"I guess we really should get up now," Elentari murmured, frowning. Faramir grumbled in assent, kissed her brow, and rose. He quickly left the room into his own. Elentari grumbled and got up from her own.
"If you don't mind Boromir, I kind of want to change my clothes, so can you, um, kind of, get out?" she asked.
"Oh, uh yeah, but I have been meaning to have a talk with you," Boromir said.
"What about?"
"You and Faramir."
"Oh," she looked reluctant, "Well, let me change and I'll meet you in the hall in a few minutes."
When she emerged a few minutes later, wearing a flowing gown the color of the sky, with her dark hair running along her waist, even Boromir, who did not care for women, had to admit she looked beautiful. He offered his arm and they strolled along the gardens.
"So, what is this talk about?"
"The relationship between you and Faramir," Boromir answered, his face serious.
"What about it?"
"Do you love him?" Boromir asked, facing his sister, looking her hard in the eye.
"Of course, more than anything," she replied.
"As what?"
She thought about it for a moment, "As a friend. As a brother, as a— Boromir cut her off, "As a lover?"
"Yes," she replied firmly.
"Does he feel the same way for you?"
"What do you think, brother?"
"What I think does not matter, for this is not my relationship we are discussing. Does he love you?"
"Yes."
Boromir nodded and began walking again, his face deep in thought.
"Boromir, what is it?" Elentari asked, not understanding why her brother was suddenly asking her these questions.
"What happened last night?" he asked suddenly.
"We gazed at the stars and sang songs. I didn't want him to leave for Ithilien, so I begged him to stay, even though both he and I knew he couldn't. We fell asleep some time later," she narrated.
"Did he make love to you?" Boromir asked.
"He told me he loved me, but no, he did not," she replied, her face growing hot.
"Elentari, Father will never allow such a love to endure," Boromir said plainly, "When he came by this morning, there was something I did not tell you when Faramir was here. He stared at your door with a scowl on his face, and then, seeing me, he uttered, 'this shall not be tolerated.'"
"Why? What is so wrong about it?" she cried.
Boromir took her hands in his and pressed them together, "Elentari, Father will have my head for telling you this. He has plans of marrying you off soon. There already have been suitors to see him, as you know there are many eager to have you by their side."
Elentari looked infuriated, "How can he marry me off without even telling me about it? He has been seeing suitors without my knowledge. Who's being married? Him or me?"
"I suppose he will tell you. He wants to have you pick on your eighteenth birthday, but now all this with Faramir, you can see why he is displeased."
"Why? So I can't be a pawn for future alliance? Because for once something isn't going his way?" she cried.
"Hush, Elentari," Boromir enticed, as he had when she was younger, "This is why I was hesitant to tell you. Please do not breathe word of this to Faramir. He will confront Father, which will reveal what I've told you, and it will only further determine Father to separate the two of you." Elentari was about to argue further, when a Guard came, summoning them to Lord Denethor.
Faramir was already there, when they entered. Denethor wished both his sons well on their missions, and ate his meal. Boromir and Faramir walked out to the lowest level, and saddled their horses, alongside Elentari, who by now, was controlling tears threatening her eyes.
Boromir swept her into his embrace, and murmured, "Remember what I have told you, but do not act upon it. I shall see you soon, little sister."
"May the grace of the Valar be upon you," she returned, "Be careful, Boromir." He nodded, swung on his horse, and turned away, leaving Faramir and Elentari alone, to bid each other farewell.
Elentari kept her eyes fixed on the floor. If she kept staring at the brown dirt, instead of into his warm, blue eyes, she wouldn't cry, or so she thought. Faramir, using one finger, gently raised her chin so that she would look at him.
"Don't leave," she whispered, choking back tears.
"I must." She nodded, knowing he was right.
"I will wait for you. The day will come when Cirion appears out of the horizon, carrying you on his back, carrying you home to me," she pledged. Faramir nodded, pressing her hand to his lips, "I love you, my Lady."
She did not answer, for she could not. As hard as she tried to restrain it, one stubborn tear found its way down her cheek. Faramir wiped it away tenderly with his finger, and then kissing the spot lightly.
"I love you," she whispered as they embraced. After what seemed like ages, Faramir knew he had to go; he had to leave her. He mounted his horse, grasped her hand. She unfastened a chain from her neck and pressed it in his hand. Faramir looked down at it; it was Ariethel's wedding present from Finduilas many years ago, and Elentari had worn it all her life, a crystal gem encircled by a rim of gold, that held Elvish inscriptions. Years ago, Elentari and Faramir had deciphered the message, and found it to be an Elvish prayer to Ulmo and Lady Varda to guide them with her stars across the Sea.
"Take it. Take it with you," she said, pressing it into his hand.
Faramir nodded, and attempted clumsily to fasten it around his neck. She laughed and took it from him, and bending his head, fastened it securely around his neck and whispered, "May it remind you of me, that there is always someone waiting for you at home."
"I need not this as a reminder of you. I cannot think of anything but you," he said, giving her one last kiss, "Namarië, melda*." Elentari watched him ride out with Boromir and stood, watching them grow smaller and smaller in the distance, until at last the horizon swallowed them, vanishing. She had left one part of her heart at the Sea, and now the other part was riding towards Ithilien, with Faramir.
* toronya: my brother
* melda: my love
* inye melme le: I love you
* ar inye le: and I you
*lomëlinde: nightingale
* manë arin, melda: Good morning, my love
* namarie, melda: Farewell, my love
Many thanks to the reviewers, especially "Araniel", who has really encouraged me. To 'Jazmin 3 Firewing', of course I know I'm going to have to demolish Faramir and Isilmë's relationship, but I am not doing that yet. This chapter foreshadows her end, though, and this is basically the turning point for it. I'm enjoying her fictional life as long as possible! Thanks to all the reviewers! Keep R/R!
Chapter 7: Our night, you and I
Late at dusk, Boromir returned to the City also, and for him, Denethor ordered an elaborate dinner. After much persuasion from his elder son and foster daughter, he finally consented to have Mithrandir at the dinner table, out of what Boromir put as "common courtesy".
Gandalf sat silently, without a word at the table. Denethor would have thought that he was finally accepting Denethor's hostility and keeping silent for fear of conflict, but that was not the case. He was observing the young Lords of Gondor, and their Lady, especially the latter.
She served them all food before sitting down to her own, next to Faramir, who offered her a smile, which she returned. Both Boromir and Denethor noticed, but the reactions of father and son were drastically opposite. Boromir laughed to himself, happy that two so dear to him were happy together. He smiled at the way they seemed to understand each other and cared for one another, and it filled his heart with warmth. Denethor however, looked at them grimly and coldly, believing that such a love would not last and could not stand the endurance of time and his wisdom would prevail, to some extent.
After the meal was done, Boromir called for music, and the minstrels played their pieces, but Boromir seemed unsatisfied. He called to Isilmë and his brother, "Come, sing your brother a song," he coaxed.
Faramir was a bit reluctant, fearing the wrath of Denethor, but seeing the good-natured grin on his brother's face, could not say no. He fetched his lyre while Isilmë handled her fiddle with the usual grace. "What do you wish to hear, my Lord?" she asked formally.
"Anything you wish," Boromir replied, with a glance to his father. With a look to Faramir, she struck the first passage on her fiddle, and upon hearing it, he continued on his lyre, and she sang:
Strange, how my heart beats
To find myself on your shore
Strange how still I feel
My loss of comfort gone before
Cool waves wash over
And drift away with dreams of youth
Time is stolen
I cannot hold you for long
Faramir joined the song, and their voices enmeshed perfectly to create a heavenly melody:
And so this is where I should be now
She sang, "Days and nights falling by," and he echoed, "Days and nights falling by me."
I know of a dream I should be holding
Days and nights falling by
Days and nights falling by me
He sang alone, his blue eyes full of love fixated upon her face:
Soft blue horizons
Reach far into my childhood days
As you are rising
To bring me my forgotten ways
Strange how I falter
To find I'm standing in deep water
Strange how my heart beats
To find I'm standing on your shore
She joined him:
And so this is where I should be now
Echoing each other: Days and nights falling by
Days and nights falling by me
I know of a dream I should be holding
Days and nights falling by
Days and nights falling by me
The music slowed, and stopped:
Strange how my heart beats
To find I'm standing on your shore.
As their voices faded into the night, their gazes were locked in each other's. His blue eyes were filled with a fire, the fire of love. They clearly showed his love for her, his need for her, while her sea-grey eyes reflected his desire.
"There are three things I miss out in the wilderness," Boromir said, breaking the moment, "The food, the company, and the beautiful singing of the two of you." Isilmë smiled gratefully, barely managing to tear herself away from Faramir's intent gaze. "Thank you Boromir. We miss you here, when you're gone."
"I miss you, little sister, and your songs," Boromir replied.
"Mithrandir," Isilmë suddenly addressed the wizard, lost deep in his thoughts, but taking in everything around him, "Do you sing?"
"No, my young Lady, I do not, at least, not as well as you," Gandalf answered.
"Come, sing us a song," she beckoned. Gandalf shook his head. After Isilmë's persistence, Gandalf finally offered an alternative, "How about this, my persistent lady, why don't you sing another song for us? A song that you think befitting for an old man like me, and I will join you and learn it in the end." Isilmë seemed convinced and flattered by the suggestion. She struck up a tune, and the minstrels followed.
Pilgrim, how you journey
On the road you chose
To find out why the winds die
And where the stories go.
All days come from one day
That much you must know
You cannot change what's over
But only where you go
One way leads to diamonds,
One way leads to gold
Another leads you only,
To everything you're told
In your heart you wonder
Which of these is true?
The roads that leads to nowhere,
The road that leads to you
Will you find the answer in all you say and do?
Will you find the answer in you?
Each heart is a pilgrim,
Each one wants to know
The reason why the winds die
And where the stories go,
Pilgrim, in your journey
You may travel far,
For pilgrim, it's a long way
To find out who you are...
Pilgrim, it's a long way
To find out who you are
As she finished, Gandalf applauded, a twinkle in his eyes. Denethor was grimmer than ever, a scowl firmly appearing upon his face.
"Who taught you that song?" Mithrandir asked.
"I read part of a verse in a book of lore years ago, and I sort of wrote my own verses to accompany it and a melody. Well, Faramir helped me with the melody, for he is far better with that than I am."
Faramir smiled, "It is hard to rival you in your use of words. Such eloquence would rival the Elven masters of old."
"If only Faramir were far better than others in swordsmanship and valor against the Enemy, not dwell in libraries writing tunes for songs of folly," Denethor's icy voice pierced through the warm cloud of love. Faramir looked down, determined not to let his father ruin this night. It was their night, his and Isilmë's, and he was not going to let his father ruin it, let alone get to him. He would not be home for a long while, and he was going to share his last day and night with her, regardless of what his father said or did. Boromir started talking again, to cover the uncomfortable silence that ensued. Faramir reached beneath the table to clasp Isilmë's hand, who smiled and gave his a squeeze. Denethor finally retired, after scrutinizing his younger children closely, warning them in his gaze, of what, they did not know. Gandalf sat outside, smoking his pipe, his thoughts straying to another land. Boromir bid them a fair night and chastised playfully, "Do not stay up too late. And don't do anything you might one day rue."
"Sleep, brother," Faramir ushered. Boromir gave Isilmë a playful smile, winked, and murmured, "If he tries anything, Elentari, just scream, and I'll be there."
"Sleep, toronya*," she echoed Faramir. Finally, Boromir disappeared into the comfort of his room, leaving the couple alone. They sat in silence for a while, in the dim candlelight, losing themselves in the embrace of the other.
"Faramir," she breathed softly.
"Yes?" he replied, his face buried in her soft hair, taking in her familiar scent.
"Might I suggest we move out of the corridor, as it is near midnight, and two shadowy figures out in the darkness may be taken unfavorably, by a passerby."
"Hmm, I suppose so," Faramir murmured, unwilling to pull his head out of her hair and shoulder.
"Come on, melda*," she moved toward her room, dragging him along. She pulled open the door silently and moved in. Faramir tapped the door close with his foot. Melda. She had called him 'her love'; her love, not the usual toronya, my brother, but my love. Faramir heard her words and felt he was in bliss.
Isilmë stood behind her window, as she always did, bathing in the moonlight watching the stars, wishing she could be among them, instead of trapped behind the window. Her hands were upon the white wood of the sill, her face almost pressed to the glass so that her breath was seen upon it. Faramir stood behind her, the top of her head reaching his chin, which he placed upon her head. She felt him slip his arms around her waist and could feel his chest rising and falling behind her with each breath he took.
"inyë melme le*," he breathed.
"ar inyë le*," was the loving response. Those words ignited such a joy in his heart that he felt he could fly like Earendil of old. Silence ensued.
"Take me to Ithilien with you," she whispered suddenly, pleading with him, "Please. Take me with you. Take me to a place where I can look at the stars without being behind bars."
"I can't. I wish I could, melda. I wish I could. I wish I could take you with me wherever I went," he regretted, stroking her hair.
"Please Faramir. I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to stay within stone, trapped. Please, let me free. Take me with you," desperation in her voice. Her weakness tore his heart apart, and it killed him, hurt him more than any Orc arrow, to see her suffering, but he could not help her. He wanted to, but he could not.
"I wouldn't stay in Amroth for you were not there. I came back to Minas Tirith because I knew you would be here. I left the Sea. I left the waters of the Sea. I left the swirling tides," she muttered, sounding for the first time since Finduilas's death, like a child-afraid. A dark wave of foreboding swept over Faramir's heart. He would lose her. He would lose her to the Sea. She had Elven blood, which meant she had the Elven longing that was perilous to stir. She had visited Dol Amroth, had been at the Sea, and now he would lose her to it.
"Now you will no longer be here at Minas Tirith. There is no sense in returning, except out of love for Father, and for the comfort of familiarity. I cannot go to Ithilien, but I can go to Amroth. Yet I am not happy there," she continued to stammer, almost to herself, by now, turning, her back to her beloved stars, holding on to Faramir desperately, like a stiff breeze could blow her away from him forever. Tears were threatening her eyes and she made no effort to conceal them. She had concealed them for too long, hid her loneliness for too long, put a mask over her melancholy. She felt ashamed of herself for showing such weakness. She did not know where all this: all these feelings, all these tears came from. They just flowed out from her, like an obstinate current that could not be stopped, bottled up from all her years of loneliness and grief, now overflowing. Faramir could feel it pouring out of her heart, as he felt her tears soaking his shirt. He could find no words to comfort her, merely held her, which was all she wanted, all she needed. Her slender body wracked with her heart-wrenching sobs.
"I'm sorry Faramir. I'm so sorry. I do not know where all this came from," she apologized, choking on her tears.
"Shh," he cradled her in his arms, "I promise you. I will build a home for you in Ithilien one day. I promise," he vowed, but little did he know that he would one day do that for another. "There, you can look at the stars every night, without being behind bars. You can fly through the woods without thoughts of turning back. You can let the wind sweep you away. You can be free, Isilmë," he promised. She smiled through the tears and kissed his cheek. Using one finger, he tenderly brushed away a tear trickling slowly down her cheek, and then cupped her face in his hands.
"I love you. I do not care what Father or Boromir or any one else says. I love you, my Isilmë," Faramir whispered.
"And I you. I will wait here in Minas Tirith for your return," she promised, looking down, as her heart did not want to. Though it was her home, she hated it in the White City, the white stone city. Faramir lifted up her chin and placed a kiss upon her lips. She smiled and returned it, though this time they did not part. They kissed passionately, ardently, as if they needed to draw breath from the other.
When they finally parted, which seemed like ages later, Faramir teased, "Now I know why Elves and Dwarves hate each other. You can't stand to be inside the cold stone."
"I love Minas Tirith. It is my home. It's just that I feel trapped in the City, without sunshine or trees. Sometimes, especially at night, I feel a shadow creeping upon me and I feel like the stone walls are enveloping me, trying to suffocate me."
"That is why you gaze at the stars at night," Faramir breathed, knowing now why she stayed by her window every night.
"Yes, Lady Varda gives me strength to carry on."
Faramir sighed and shook his head, "You should have been raised in Rivendell, or Lóthlorien. Not here. Not in the city of stone."
"Hey, trying to get rid of me?"
"Never. From a selfish standpoint, I am glad you are here, but I hate to see you suffer."
"I'll be fine," Isilmë ensured him, though in her heart she did not believe it, "Besides, when it gets to where I can't stand it, and you're no where in sight, I'll visit Amroth for a few days."
"Do you like it there?" Faramir questioned and intently looked into her eyes, knowing he could see the answer there.
She thought about it for a moment, "It's beautiful there. The Sea, it's breathtaking. The green, the trees, the lomelindë*. It's beautiful," she described, her eyes gazing south, "but it's not home."
"Where is home?" Faramir asked quietly, hoping she would not answer what he thought she would-the Sea.
"Home is where the heart is, where you are," she replied gently. Their lips met again and this time, Faramir did not remember when they parted.
He awoke the next morning, finding himself in Isilmë's bed, still fully dressed. He looked over to find her still sleeping, her face content and sorrow less. To him she looked beautiful, at peace. He leaned over, and planted a kiss on her cheek. She stirred a little bit, uttered a little groan, and nestled her head between his shoulder and head, as if to block out the sunlight. Faramir wrapped his arms around her and felt this was the way he could stay forever, with her. He fell into a light doze until he felt her stir beside him. He opened his eyes to see her blinking unsteadily, willing her eyes to become accustomed to the light.
"manë arin, melda,*" he said, smiling at her appearance. Her right eye was larger than her left, as she was barely awake and her sleep-tousled her curled around her face like a frame.
"Hmm," was the only response he received. She groaned, stretched herself out, and tried to hide her face in his shoulder, not wanting to awaken.
"Come on Isilmë, it's mid-morning," he coaxed, failing to restrain a laugh at her sleep-ridden appearance. She moaned and shook her head violently and buried her face further into his shoulder.
"Why do we have to get up?" she groaned as she finally succumbed to consciousness, at least somewhat, as her eyes were still firmly shut.
"Because we cannot spend the whole day in bed," Faramir said.
"Why?"
"Because Illuvatar willed it when he created the race of Men," he said, laughing at her unwillingness to rise.
"Well if I ever meet Illuvatar I shall certainly bring that up as a complaint," she pouted, finally opening her eyes and looking at him. He smiled, finding her beautiful even in her half-awakened state.
"Come melda, you have to get up sometime," he enticed, kissing the tip of her nose.
"I don't want that sometime to be now. Besides, I'm still dressed," she said glancing at her attire from the night before.
"As am I," Faramir replied.
"Fine. Since I am awake now, unfortunately, thanks to someone here," she said, putting particular stress on the word 'someone', "Can we not get up? Can we just lay here until someone comes and yells at us like they did when we were younger?"
"I remember. We would go swimming in the pond and we would stay there for hours at a time, almost missing dinner, until Father or Boromir sent someone looking for us, which most often lead to a lecture or scolding."
"We could never miss dinner. You would always be hungry," she smiled, remembering the good old days.
"As I am now," Faramir said, a smile encircling his lips. He felt that when he was with her, he couldn't help but smile. Upon hearing his reply, Isilmë rolled her eyes.
Just then, a knock was heard on the door, "Elentari! Are you in there? You have to be. I haven't seen you all morning."
"That would be Boromir. Right on cue," she sighed. "Yes I am in here, as it is my room."
"Are you dressed? Can I come in?"
"I am dressed, but no, you cannot," she replied. However, the door opened, "Too late," Boromir said, a grin upon his face. However, upon seeing Faramir there, he froze, his eyes scanning the two of them, from the covers of the bed, to their faces.
"I see you never did make it back to your room, Faramir," Boromir said. Faramir could only grin sheepishly.
"Well, Father has been asking for the two of you. He came to your room in the morning, and when he found no one in there, his eyes darted to your door Elentari, and he scowled, and then turned and stalked away," Boromir informed. Elentari and Faramir merely glanced at each other, knowing that their father would be angry.
"I guess we really should get up now," Elentari murmured, frowning. Faramir grumbled in assent, kissed her brow, and rose. He quickly left the room into his own. Elentari grumbled and got up from her own.
"If you don't mind Boromir, I kind of want to change my clothes, so can you, um, kind of, get out?" she asked.
"Oh, uh yeah, but I have been meaning to have a talk with you," Boromir said.
"What about?"
"You and Faramir."
"Oh," she looked reluctant, "Well, let me change and I'll meet you in the hall in a few minutes."
When she emerged a few minutes later, wearing a flowing gown the color of the sky, with her dark hair running along her waist, even Boromir, who did not care for women, had to admit she looked beautiful. He offered his arm and they strolled along the gardens.
"So, what is this talk about?"
"The relationship between you and Faramir," Boromir answered, his face serious.
"What about it?"
"Do you love him?" Boromir asked, facing his sister, looking her hard in the eye.
"Of course, more than anything," she replied.
"As what?"
She thought about it for a moment, "As a friend. As a brother, as a— Boromir cut her off, "As a lover?"
"Yes," she replied firmly.
"Does he feel the same way for you?"
"What do you think, brother?"
"What I think does not matter, for this is not my relationship we are discussing. Does he love you?"
"Yes."
Boromir nodded and began walking again, his face deep in thought.
"Boromir, what is it?" Elentari asked, not understanding why her brother was suddenly asking her these questions.
"What happened last night?" he asked suddenly.
"We gazed at the stars and sang songs. I didn't want him to leave for Ithilien, so I begged him to stay, even though both he and I knew he couldn't. We fell asleep some time later," she narrated.
"Did he make love to you?" Boromir asked.
"He told me he loved me, but no, he did not," she replied, her face growing hot.
"Elentari, Father will never allow such a love to endure," Boromir said plainly, "When he came by this morning, there was something I did not tell you when Faramir was here. He stared at your door with a scowl on his face, and then, seeing me, he uttered, 'this shall not be tolerated.'"
"Why? What is so wrong about it?" she cried.
Boromir took her hands in his and pressed them together, "Elentari, Father will have my head for telling you this. He has plans of marrying you off soon. There already have been suitors to see him, as you know there are many eager to have you by their side."
Elentari looked infuriated, "How can he marry me off without even telling me about it? He has been seeing suitors without my knowledge. Who's being married? Him or me?"
"I suppose he will tell you. He wants to have you pick on your eighteenth birthday, but now all this with Faramir, you can see why he is displeased."
"Why? So I can't be a pawn for future alliance? Because for once something isn't going his way?" she cried.
"Hush, Elentari," Boromir enticed, as he had when she was younger, "This is why I was hesitant to tell you. Please do not breathe word of this to Faramir. He will confront Father, which will reveal what I've told you, and it will only further determine Father to separate the two of you." Elentari was about to argue further, when a Guard came, summoning them to Lord Denethor.
Faramir was already there, when they entered. Denethor wished both his sons well on their missions, and ate his meal. Boromir and Faramir walked out to the lowest level, and saddled their horses, alongside Elentari, who by now, was controlling tears threatening her eyes.
Boromir swept her into his embrace, and murmured, "Remember what I have told you, but do not act upon it. I shall see you soon, little sister."
"May the grace of the Valar be upon you," she returned, "Be careful, Boromir." He nodded, swung on his horse, and turned away, leaving Faramir and Elentari alone, to bid each other farewell.
Elentari kept her eyes fixed on the floor. If she kept staring at the brown dirt, instead of into his warm, blue eyes, she wouldn't cry, or so she thought. Faramir, using one finger, gently raised her chin so that she would look at him.
"Don't leave," she whispered, choking back tears.
"I must." She nodded, knowing he was right.
"I will wait for you. The day will come when Cirion appears out of the horizon, carrying you on his back, carrying you home to me," she pledged. Faramir nodded, pressing her hand to his lips, "I love you, my Lady."
She did not answer, for she could not. As hard as she tried to restrain it, one stubborn tear found its way down her cheek. Faramir wiped it away tenderly with his finger, and then kissing the spot lightly.
"I love you," she whispered as they embraced. After what seemed like ages, Faramir knew he had to go; he had to leave her. He mounted his horse, grasped her hand. She unfastened a chain from her neck and pressed it in his hand. Faramir looked down at it; it was Ariethel's wedding present from Finduilas many years ago, and Elentari had worn it all her life, a crystal gem encircled by a rim of gold, that held Elvish inscriptions. Years ago, Elentari and Faramir had deciphered the message, and found it to be an Elvish prayer to Ulmo and Lady Varda to guide them with her stars across the Sea.
"Take it. Take it with you," she said, pressing it into his hand.
Faramir nodded, and attempted clumsily to fasten it around his neck. She laughed and took it from him, and bending his head, fastened it securely around his neck and whispered, "May it remind you of me, that there is always someone waiting for you at home."
"I need not this as a reminder of you. I cannot think of anything but you," he said, giving her one last kiss, "Namarië, melda*." Elentari watched him ride out with Boromir and stood, watching them grow smaller and smaller in the distance, until at last the horizon swallowed them, vanishing. She had left one part of her heart at the Sea, and now the other part was riding towards Ithilien, with Faramir.
* toronya: my brother
* melda: my love
* inye melme le: I love you
* ar inye le: and I you
*lomëlinde: nightingale
* manë arin, melda: Good morning, my love
* namarie, melda: Farewell, my love