A/N: I know this is a bit short, but I wanted to focus the impact on what
had happened. I don't own anyone, save Isilmë. Faramir is not mine
::sniff:: tear:: though David Wenham will very soon be, though he doesn't
know it yet.
Please review!!! I'm going to try to finish this story before I go on vacation, so expect a lot of updates. This way, I can write another story on the plane...
Susan: sigh I hate you and your cliffhangers... Thank you for keeping me on my toes and for all the encouragement.
Jazmin: Thank you sooo much for the codes! And for the last time: I KNOW THEODRED IS GOING TO DIE!!!! JUST WAIT!!!!! (says in a nice way!) YOU SHALL SEE!!!! I thank you for being so into the story to yell me in your review!
Miriel Amarian: Maedhros!!! Thanks for reading and being just as obsessed!
Chapter 26: You shouldn't have to say goodbye
The cold wind blew through him, as he stood erect at the City walls, gazing out into the horizon. The company grew smaller and smaller, and the airstreams filled him with cold, with dread, for as the horses fell out of his sight, despair, despair that had threatened him for ages, finally conquered him.
She was gone.
The dead weight fell upon him, a veil between him and the world. Beside him, soldiers at their posts gossiped and laughed, but he heard none of it. He felt nothing, except a great deal of cold, ice piercing his heart, living in his veins.
Minutes ago, she had stood there, straight and rigid as an arrow, looking upon and bidding the City farewell. Before they left, Imrahil and Araniel had made her swear that she would write them and that the fair city of Amroth was forever open to her. She smiled bitterly, thinking of the Sea.
Denethor embraced her. "Gondor will miss you." Even at their farewell, he could not bring himself to say that he would miss her. Her expression was blank, but she embraced the only father she knew furiously, as all grievances she forgot.
The Steward smiled, "Ariethel would have been so proud of you. Finduilas too."
She swallowed, a flow of emotions surging, "You have been a good father. Thank you," and then, "Forgive me, Father, for any grievances I may have caused you."
"Nay," there was a trace of remorse in Denethor's voice, "I am the one who should be saying so."
She shook her head, and a hollow laugh was heard, "Dwell not upon it Father." He nodded, and kissed the crown of her head, "Farewell now, my daughter, and may the Valar watch over you and bring you happiness, my little sparrow." The childhood endearment caused a nostalgic smile to crease over her lips.
"Farewell Father." Denethor embraced her one last time, even the cold Steward a bit unwilling to let go of his beloved foster daughter. Theodred was watching her patiently, allowing her as much time as she needed, for he himself felt tears rising as he saw the grief in all of their eyes. Three men, as different as could be, yet all tied together by their common love. Denethor, the austere Steward, unwilling to show any emotion, letting it simmer below his ascetic facade. Boromir, the great warrior, delighting chiefly in arms, ignorant of the aesthetic emotions, but protector of his people and of his sister; he doted upon the younger girl, teaching her the ways of the sword and gave her his undivided attention.
And then there was Faramir. Words could not describe how much he loved her, and how he felt at this moment. It was as if knives, arrows, scimitars all fell upon him, yet he felt not a thing, except the breaking, piece by piece, of his heart, into fragments that could never be brought together again.
He watched her graceful body move down the line, stopping at Boromir.
"Leaving us? My little Elentari," Boromir's voice was still full of jest and tease.
"Not so little anymore, dear brother," she replied, burying her face into his chest.
He embraced her, a bit awkwardly, but fervently all the same, and whispered, "Show those Rohirrim what we Gondorians are about."
He heard something between a laugh and a sob, "And if any of them dare to mistreat you, just send word, and I'll be there. They shall hear the Horn of Boromir over the mountains, and rue their arrogance as they suffer the wrath of Boromir of Gondor."
She giggled, "You would scare them all off just by showing your big nose."
He feigned an audible sigh, "Must you?" He reached up and patted his nose, "I find it quite attractive."
"Which is why you have not wedded yet," she teased. Boromir managed to look quite affronted, but drew her once more into embrace, "I love you little sister."
"Don't forget me Boromir."
"That's impossible. And don't worry about Faramir either," he addressed her fears.
"Take care of him for me," she made him promise. Releasing her, he watched as she sighed, and drew herself up proudly, as she went to face the greatest trial of her time, farewell to Faramir.
His head was lowered as she approached him, willing himself not to let his tears spill over. She stood before him, and as she lifted his chin with her finger, he raised his tearful eyes to meet hers.
They merely gazed into each other's eyes, locked together; needing no words to express the indescribable feelings they felt for each other.
Finally, she lowered her head, and muttered, "It's too hard to say goodbye."
"You shouldn't have to say goodbye," Faramir whispered back, taking her into his arms. The entire Citadel, and the Rohirrim were staring at them, but they saw none; all they saw was the depths of each other's eyes.
"I hate doing this," she muttered again, "I can't think of any words."
"None are needed," he pressed a gentle finger against her lips as she began to stutter and murmur again, "I love you."
Upon hearing this, she raised her eyes once more to meet his, "I love you more than those words can tell."
If the entire Citadel and her fiancé were not watching, Faramir and Elentari would have enveloped themselves into a passionate kiss, disregarding all around them, their problems melting away as they did into each other. Yet he contented himself by kissing her forehead, his lips lingering upon her skin, and she planted a tender kiss upon his cheek.
"Namárië melda," she whispered one last time, freeing herself, most reluctantly, from his embrace. He clung onto her hand, lacing his fingers through, which caused some onlookers to raise an eyebrow, though Theodred saw not. Lovingly, he pressed his lips upon her hand, and uttered, "May Varda Elentari watch over you."
She nodded, and was eerily placid, for her tears were spent, as she mounted Talcalina. Even the horse seemed to be sorrowful as she left her home, her stable beside Cirion, Faramir's steed. Elentari had insisted that she could ride, and Theodred had granted her request.
"The Golden Hall beckons," he proclaimed before they rode off. He had already thanked Denethor for his hospitality, and like that, they were off.
As the great Gate sealed behind her, barring her from all that she had ever known, she whispered, "Namárië Minas Tirith, masnya. Farewell Faramir, my love, namárië." Farewell Minas Tirith, my home
Please review!!! I'm going to try to finish this story before I go on vacation, so expect a lot of updates. This way, I can write another story on the plane...
Susan: sigh I hate you and your cliffhangers... Thank you for keeping me on my toes and for all the encouragement.
Jazmin: Thank you sooo much for the codes! And for the last time: I KNOW THEODRED IS GOING TO DIE!!!! JUST WAIT!!!!! (says in a nice way!) YOU SHALL SEE!!!! I thank you for being so into the story to yell me in your review!
Miriel Amarian: Maedhros!!! Thanks for reading and being just as obsessed!
Chapter 26: You shouldn't have to say goodbye
The cold wind blew through him, as he stood erect at the City walls, gazing out into the horizon. The company grew smaller and smaller, and the airstreams filled him with cold, with dread, for as the horses fell out of his sight, despair, despair that had threatened him for ages, finally conquered him.
She was gone.
The dead weight fell upon him, a veil between him and the world. Beside him, soldiers at their posts gossiped and laughed, but he heard none of it. He felt nothing, except a great deal of cold, ice piercing his heart, living in his veins.
Minutes ago, she had stood there, straight and rigid as an arrow, looking upon and bidding the City farewell. Before they left, Imrahil and Araniel had made her swear that she would write them and that the fair city of Amroth was forever open to her. She smiled bitterly, thinking of the Sea.
Denethor embraced her. "Gondor will miss you." Even at their farewell, he could not bring himself to say that he would miss her. Her expression was blank, but she embraced the only father she knew furiously, as all grievances she forgot.
The Steward smiled, "Ariethel would have been so proud of you. Finduilas too."
She swallowed, a flow of emotions surging, "You have been a good father. Thank you," and then, "Forgive me, Father, for any grievances I may have caused you."
"Nay," there was a trace of remorse in Denethor's voice, "I am the one who should be saying so."
She shook her head, and a hollow laugh was heard, "Dwell not upon it Father." He nodded, and kissed the crown of her head, "Farewell now, my daughter, and may the Valar watch over you and bring you happiness, my little sparrow." The childhood endearment caused a nostalgic smile to crease over her lips.
"Farewell Father." Denethor embraced her one last time, even the cold Steward a bit unwilling to let go of his beloved foster daughter. Theodred was watching her patiently, allowing her as much time as she needed, for he himself felt tears rising as he saw the grief in all of their eyes. Three men, as different as could be, yet all tied together by their common love. Denethor, the austere Steward, unwilling to show any emotion, letting it simmer below his ascetic facade. Boromir, the great warrior, delighting chiefly in arms, ignorant of the aesthetic emotions, but protector of his people and of his sister; he doted upon the younger girl, teaching her the ways of the sword and gave her his undivided attention.
And then there was Faramir. Words could not describe how much he loved her, and how he felt at this moment. It was as if knives, arrows, scimitars all fell upon him, yet he felt not a thing, except the breaking, piece by piece, of his heart, into fragments that could never be brought together again.
He watched her graceful body move down the line, stopping at Boromir.
"Leaving us? My little Elentari," Boromir's voice was still full of jest and tease.
"Not so little anymore, dear brother," she replied, burying her face into his chest.
He embraced her, a bit awkwardly, but fervently all the same, and whispered, "Show those Rohirrim what we Gondorians are about."
He heard something between a laugh and a sob, "And if any of them dare to mistreat you, just send word, and I'll be there. They shall hear the Horn of Boromir over the mountains, and rue their arrogance as they suffer the wrath of Boromir of Gondor."
She giggled, "You would scare them all off just by showing your big nose."
He feigned an audible sigh, "Must you?" He reached up and patted his nose, "I find it quite attractive."
"Which is why you have not wedded yet," she teased. Boromir managed to look quite affronted, but drew her once more into embrace, "I love you little sister."
"Don't forget me Boromir."
"That's impossible. And don't worry about Faramir either," he addressed her fears.
"Take care of him for me," she made him promise. Releasing her, he watched as she sighed, and drew herself up proudly, as she went to face the greatest trial of her time, farewell to Faramir.
His head was lowered as she approached him, willing himself not to let his tears spill over. She stood before him, and as she lifted his chin with her finger, he raised his tearful eyes to meet hers.
They merely gazed into each other's eyes, locked together; needing no words to express the indescribable feelings they felt for each other.
Finally, she lowered her head, and muttered, "It's too hard to say goodbye."
"You shouldn't have to say goodbye," Faramir whispered back, taking her into his arms. The entire Citadel, and the Rohirrim were staring at them, but they saw none; all they saw was the depths of each other's eyes.
"I hate doing this," she muttered again, "I can't think of any words."
"None are needed," he pressed a gentle finger against her lips as she began to stutter and murmur again, "I love you."
Upon hearing this, she raised her eyes once more to meet his, "I love you more than those words can tell."
If the entire Citadel and her fiancé were not watching, Faramir and Elentari would have enveloped themselves into a passionate kiss, disregarding all around them, their problems melting away as they did into each other. Yet he contented himself by kissing her forehead, his lips lingering upon her skin, and she planted a tender kiss upon his cheek.
"Namárië melda," she whispered one last time, freeing herself, most reluctantly, from his embrace. He clung onto her hand, lacing his fingers through, which caused some onlookers to raise an eyebrow, though Theodred saw not. Lovingly, he pressed his lips upon her hand, and uttered, "May Varda Elentari watch over you."
She nodded, and was eerily placid, for her tears were spent, as she mounted Talcalina. Even the horse seemed to be sorrowful as she left her home, her stable beside Cirion, Faramir's steed. Elentari had insisted that she could ride, and Theodred had granted her request.
"The Golden Hall beckons," he proclaimed before they rode off. He had already thanked Denethor for his hospitality, and like that, they were off.
As the great Gate sealed behind her, barring her from all that she had ever known, she whispered, "Namárië Minas Tirith, masnya. Farewell Faramir, my love, namárië." Farewell Minas Tirith, my home