A/N: Hope you like it. Shorter one. I have a lot more to add and a quick
update is prospective, but I felt that ending was a bit suspenseful.
Reviews! Tolkien owns everyone but Isilmë, who is a poor victim of my
twisted mind. Faramir, to my great angst and sorrow, does not belong to me.
His lovely character belongs to Tolkien and his fair countenance-David
Wenham, who MOST unfortunately, does not belong to me. This chapter adds up
the conflict and tension that will later ensue between Faramir and
Elentari. Thanks reviewers! Keep at it!
To "Jazmin 3 Firewing": I like your critique of Boromir, which was part of which I was trying to convey, yet also that though he was arrogant, he loved Faramir, which I hopefully added. 'Araniel': Well, now that you have an older brother, you can see how much you annoy your actual brother. Thanks to 'Unicorn' 4 adding me 2 the list!
Chapter 14: Betrayal
"My Lady, allow me to present to you the competitors of each round," Mentarë, a knight of the Realm announced, as Elentari sat high in the stands with Denethor, as the groups of warriors lined up.
"Our first area shall be archery. We have four contestants. Anarahil of Amroth," each man stepped forward and bowed as his name was called, "Madan of Ered Namrais. Theodred of Rohan and Faramir of Gondor." She smiled and nodded at each one, and said, "I wish you all luck."
The contestants would stand in a line, each with a target 50 paces away. After each round of arrows fired, the target would be moved 50 more paces back, until it reached 300. Then, the two finalists were chosen, and they would compete for a winner.
Seven rounds of arrows later, Theodred and Faramir remained standing. Theodred offered Faramir a warm handshake for good fortune, which Faramir returned, if only for courtesy, but he regarded Theodred icily, holding him in contempt. "This man is the one who wants to steal her from me." Elentari noticed Faramir's glare, and something inside her quivered, for it was not the first time she had seen the Steward of Gondor in his younger son's eyes. The drums rolled, thundering like the horses across the Pelennor, and the targets were moved another 50 paces back, totaling 350.
"Come on, little brother!!!" Boromir cheered on the side. Elentari wanted to scream out, to encourage Faramir, but knew she could not openly show any favor.
Since Theodred was the guest, it was customary for him to shoot first. He took a single, feathered arrow out of his casket, notched it upon the bow, pulled back the string, and let it fly. It hit the innermost rim of the target, just outside of the bull's eye. He bowed, a radiant smile upon his face, and made out of Faramir's way. Faramir came up, his face grim and serious, eyes, icy and cool. For the first time of his life, he looked more like his father than lovely Finduilas, something that Denethor had never wanted to admit. As he let his arrow fly, a cry was heard from Elentari, though she quickly stifled it, and looked apologetically at Denethor. Fleeting moments later, it met the target, hitting dead center. He placed his bow back into the casket, his face expressionless, as cheers resonated through the plain. Theodred congratulated him, and he allowed someone to lead him to the head pavilion, where his father and lover sat.
"My Lady, may I present to you the winner of our archery tournament, Lord Faramir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor," Mentarë, the Knight, announced. Cheers rang up for Faramir, none louder than that of Boromir.
After the cheering died down, Elentari spoke. Though her words were formal and cautious, her smiling eyes gave away how pleased she was.
"Lord Faramir, I commend you on your victory. You have done Gondor well, and these very walls of our fair City shine down upon you in pride. Please, take this," she removed her starry necklace, "As a token of my gratitude and a wish of good fortune to you in the rest of this tournament."
"My Lady. I need not a token for your gratitude, for just to look upon thee does my heart well. Yet I shall accept your grace, as fortune is always welcome and one should never deny the gift of a Lady as fair as you," he returned, and murmured to her, "I still have your other one," referring back to the gem she had given him when he had left for Ithilien. Her most precious possession, as it was her mother's. Elentari smiled and quickly suppressed a giggle at Faramir's words and murmured back to him, "You'd better be taking care of that," and to everyone else, "Let the tournament continue." As Faramir walked away, he pulled at something around his neck, showing the crystal dangling faithfully. She smiled and blew a kiss to him, careful that Denethor was not watching.
The other three rounds were played out, Theodred, being of the Rohirrim, easily won horsemanship. He flew with the wind, urging his horse on, his light hair streaking behind him. Boromir dominated the one-on-one combat, easily being the fiercest warrior there. Elentari awarded them both with tokens, Theodred a handkerchief and Boromir, a flower. Boromir had snorted indignantly when she had dismissed him with a wave of her hand, shooing him off, causing much enjoyment to Denethor and others. However, the swordsmanship battle was not as easy for him, or for anyone else. Prince Imrahil proved to be a daunting challenge to all the young men, though he desired not Elentari's hand. He soon ceded to his kinsman, Anarahil, who fought off four others, before falling to Boromir. The last four were Boromir, Theodred, Faramir, and a highborn Gondorian, Calyan. As brother was pitted against brother, Elentari ached in her seat. The dress was stifling her, this time a misty green fabric, the weather was sweltering, and she longed to move, not to sit idly, watching her brothers out there. As they fought on and on without a victor, she thought, "Oh come on! Let me out there and I could show them all what swordsmanship is. My, Faramir is much better though. What has Ithilien done to him? Ai, why do they get to be out there, fighting for my favor, while I have to sit here, in this suffocating dress waiting for a victor? I could fight for my own, not wait for them. Boromir and Faramir, I know personally I can beat both of you." As Boromir caused Faramir to lose his balance, she wanted to jump out there and help him. Boromir came to deal the winning blow, when Faramir sparred, taking Boromir full on and drew him aback. When had his gentle, little brother become so fierce? He had a maniacal glow in his eyes, the eyes of a man driven by resolve and jealousy. The battle drew on between the brothers, neither willing to yield, as Theodred finally defeated Calyan, leaving the Gondorian in the dirt.
Finally, Denethor, fearing the brothers would become reckless and actually harm each other, called for a truce.
"As it seems, the competitors of this round are the winners of the previous rounds, so there is no need to find the winner. Bring forth our three victors," Denethor called. Theodred, upon his auburn steed, Brego, rode to the pavilion. Faramir and Boromir walked proudly side by side, refusing to let their fatigue show.
"I could've won this time," Faramir muttered.
"You've improved little brother, but I still held the upper hand," Boromir replied.
"That may be true, but I could still have won. I was gaining back," he returned.
"Oh stop it. She can beat the both of us. I pity her, sitting there, waiting for a victor. She could probably come in and teach all three of us a lesson," Boromir said of Elentari. As they stood in front of her, each one matted with sweat and dirt, she smiled at each, awarded them a golden disc as commemoration.
"So, now we shall see whom the Lady picks as her favorite," Denethor announced, shooting a warning look at her.
Elentari looked from Boromir to Faramir, to Theodred, back to Faramir, and to Theodred. It took all her self-control and years of training not to let her inner struggle appear on her face. Her heart bid her to choose Faramir, which she would do with no hesitation, if Denethor had not been near. Boromir was eliminated easily, as he did not even wish his sister's favor. Theodred was a good man, a fine man, whom, if Denethor had his way, her future would rest with. She knew that if she selected Faramir, Denethor would do everything in his power to keep them apart afterwards and would treat Faramir even worse than he did now. With that, she sighed, shot Faramir an apologetic and regretful glance, and extended her hand to Theodred. Cheers rang up, especially from the Rohirrim Theodred had brought with him. Boromir and some Gondorians stood shocked, as was Denethor, though he applauded heartily, and offered the couple seats beside him. Faramir stood there, his eyes fixed on the pair, jealousy ripping through his veins, piercing his heart more than a hundred Orc arrows. She had insisted that she was merely performing her duty, but as he looked on at the smiling couple, he could not believe it. He wanted to, but he could not. By formality, he could not leave, no matter how much he wanted to, but as she tried to catch his eye, to try to explain to him, he would not meet her gaze. He felt her gaze upon him, and he longed to look into those dark eyes and seek comfort there, but a part of him would not allow him to. "Let her be with him, if that is whom she chose," flashed through his head, as he could not control his burning jealousy.
Boromir, seeing his brother distraught, knew how shattered he would be. He quickly waded over to him, clasped him on the shoulder, and murmured, "She had to, little brother." Faramir did not reply, only shot him a look of pure disgust that caused Boromir to move back, stunned at the vehemence of his brother. Denethor gave a speech and all moved back into the City. Try as she might, Elentari could not catch Faramir's eye, and it pierced her, though she plastered a smile upon her face, for sake of the occasion and Theodred.
"I knew it would shatter him, yet I did it. You chose Isilmë, don't back out now. You did it for the best," she tried to assure herself, though she knew that she had deeply wounded him. She could only hope he would forgive her.
But as she glanced at his face, the blank, expressionless countenance plastered upon it, the mask firmly attached, she knew that once done, things can never be erased.
To "Jazmin 3 Firewing": I like your critique of Boromir, which was part of which I was trying to convey, yet also that though he was arrogant, he loved Faramir, which I hopefully added. 'Araniel': Well, now that you have an older brother, you can see how much you annoy your actual brother. Thanks to 'Unicorn' 4 adding me 2 the list!
Chapter 14: Betrayal
"My Lady, allow me to present to you the competitors of each round," Mentarë, a knight of the Realm announced, as Elentari sat high in the stands with Denethor, as the groups of warriors lined up.
"Our first area shall be archery. We have four contestants. Anarahil of Amroth," each man stepped forward and bowed as his name was called, "Madan of Ered Namrais. Theodred of Rohan and Faramir of Gondor." She smiled and nodded at each one, and said, "I wish you all luck."
The contestants would stand in a line, each with a target 50 paces away. After each round of arrows fired, the target would be moved 50 more paces back, until it reached 300. Then, the two finalists were chosen, and they would compete for a winner.
Seven rounds of arrows later, Theodred and Faramir remained standing. Theodred offered Faramir a warm handshake for good fortune, which Faramir returned, if only for courtesy, but he regarded Theodred icily, holding him in contempt. "This man is the one who wants to steal her from me." Elentari noticed Faramir's glare, and something inside her quivered, for it was not the first time she had seen the Steward of Gondor in his younger son's eyes. The drums rolled, thundering like the horses across the Pelennor, and the targets were moved another 50 paces back, totaling 350.
"Come on, little brother!!!" Boromir cheered on the side. Elentari wanted to scream out, to encourage Faramir, but knew she could not openly show any favor.
Since Theodred was the guest, it was customary for him to shoot first. He took a single, feathered arrow out of his casket, notched it upon the bow, pulled back the string, and let it fly. It hit the innermost rim of the target, just outside of the bull's eye. He bowed, a radiant smile upon his face, and made out of Faramir's way. Faramir came up, his face grim and serious, eyes, icy and cool. For the first time of his life, he looked more like his father than lovely Finduilas, something that Denethor had never wanted to admit. As he let his arrow fly, a cry was heard from Elentari, though she quickly stifled it, and looked apologetically at Denethor. Fleeting moments later, it met the target, hitting dead center. He placed his bow back into the casket, his face expressionless, as cheers resonated through the plain. Theodred congratulated him, and he allowed someone to lead him to the head pavilion, where his father and lover sat.
"My Lady, may I present to you the winner of our archery tournament, Lord Faramir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor," Mentarë, the Knight, announced. Cheers rang up for Faramir, none louder than that of Boromir.
After the cheering died down, Elentari spoke. Though her words were formal and cautious, her smiling eyes gave away how pleased she was.
"Lord Faramir, I commend you on your victory. You have done Gondor well, and these very walls of our fair City shine down upon you in pride. Please, take this," she removed her starry necklace, "As a token of my gratitude and a wish of good fortune to you in the rest of this tournament."
"My Lady. I need not a token for your gratitude, for just to look upon thee does my heart well. Yet I shall accept your grace, as fortune is always welcome and one should never deny the gift of a Lady as fair as you," he returned, and murmured to her, "I still have your other one," referring back to the gem she had given him when he had left for Ithilien. Her most precious possession, as it was her mother's. Elentari smiled and quickly suppressed a giggle at Faramir's words and murmured back to him, "You'd better be taking care of that," and to everyone else, "Let the tournament continue." As Faramir walked away, he pulled at something around his neck, showing the crystal dangling faithfully. She smiled and blew a kiss to him, careful that Denethor was not watching.
The other three rounds were played out, Theodred, being of the Rohirrim, easily won horsemanship. He flew with the wind, urging his horse on, his light hair streaking behind him. Boromir dominated the one-on-one combat, easily being the fiercest warrior there. Elentari awarded them both with tokens, Theodred a handkerchief and Boromir, a flower. Boromir had snorted indignantly when she had dismissed him with a wave of her hand, shooing him off, causing much enjoyment to Denethor and others. However, the swordsmanship battle was not as easy for him, or for anyone else. Prince Imrahil proved to be a daunting challenge to all the young men, though he desired not Elentari's hand. He soon ceded to his kinsman, Anarahil, who fought off four others, before falling to Boromir. The last four were Boromir, Theodred, Faramir, and a highborn Gondorian, Calyan. As brother was pitted against brother, Elentari ached in her seat. The dress was stifling her, this time a misty green fabric, the weather was sweltering, and she longed to move, not to sit idly, watching her brothers out there. As they fought on and on without a victor, she thought, "Oh come on! Let me out there and I could show them all what swordsmanship is. My, Faramir is much better though. What has Ithilien done to him? Ai, why do they get to be out there, fighting for my favor, while I have to sit here, in this suffocating dress waiting for a victor? I could fight for my own, not wait for them. Boromir and Faramir, I know personally I can beat both of you." As Boromir caused Faramir to lose his balance, she wanted to jump out there and help him. Boromir came to deal the winning blow, when Faramir sparred, taking Boromir full on and drew him aback. When had his gentle, little brother become so fierce? He had a maniacal glow in his eyes, the eyes of a man driven by resolve and jealousy. The battle drew on between the brothers, neither willing to yield, as Theodred finally defeated Calyan, leaving the Gondorian in the dirt.
Finally, Denethor, fearing the brothers would become reckless and actually harm each other, called for a truce.
"As it seems, the competitors of this round are the winners of the previous rounds, so there is no need to find the winner. Bring forth our three victors," Denethor called. Theodred, upon his auburn steed, Brego, rode to the pavilion. Faramir and Boromir walked proudly side by side, refusing to let their fatigue show.
"I could've won this time," Faramir muttered.
"You've improved little brother, but I still held the upper hand," Boromir replied.
"That may be true, but I could still have won. I was gaining back," he returned.
"Oh stop it. She can beat the both of us. I pity her, sitting there, waiting for a victor. She could probably come in and teach all three of us a lesson," Boromir said of Elentari. As they stood in front of her, each one matted with sweat and dirt, she smiled at each, awarded them a golden disc as commemoration.
"So, now we shall see whom the Lady picks as her favorite," Denethor announced, shooting a warning look at her.
Elentari looked from Boromir to Faramir, to Theodred, back to Faramir, and to Theodred. It took all her self-control and years of training not to let her inner struggle appear on her face. Her heart bid her to choose Faramir, which she would do with no hesitation, if Denethor had not been near. Boromir was eliminated easily, as he did not even wish his sister's favor. Theodred was a good man, a fine man, whom, if Denethor had his way, her future would rest with. She knew that if she selected Faramir, Denethor would do everything in his power to keep them apart afterwards and would treat Faramir even worse than he did now. With that, she sighed, shot Faramir an apologetic and regretful glance, and extended her hand to Theodred. Cheers rang up, especially from the Rohirrim Theodred had brought with him. Boromir and some Gondorians stood shocked, as was Denethor, though he applauded heartily, and offered the couple seats beside him. Faramir stood there, his eyes fixed on the pair, jealousy ripping through his veins, piercing his heart more than a hundred Orc arrows. She had insisted that she was merely performing her duty, but as he looked on at the smiling couple, he could not believe it. He wanted to, but he could not. By formality, he could not leave, no matter how much he wanted to, but as she tried to catch his eye, to try to explain to him, he would not meet her gaze. He felt her gaze upon him, and he longed to look into those dark eyes and seek comfort there, but a part of him would not allow him to. "Let her be with him, if that is whom she chose," flashed through his head, as he could not control his burning jealousy.
Boromir, seeing his brother distraught, knew how shattered he would be. He quickly waded over to him, clasped him on the shoulder, and murmured, "She had to, little brother." Faramir did not reply, only shot him a look of pure disgust that caused Boromir to move back, stunned at the vehemence of his brother. Denethor gave a speech and all moved back into the City. Try as she might, Elentari could not catch Faramir's eye, and it pierced her, though she plastered a smile upon her face, for sake of the occasion and Theodred.
"I knew it would shatter him, yet I did it. You chose Isilmë, don't back out now. You did it for the best," she tried to assure herself, though she knew that she had deeply wounded him. She could only hope he would forgive her.
But as she glanced at his face, the blank, expressionless countenance plastered upon it, the mask firmly attached, she knew that once done, things can never be erased.