A/N: Are you getting tired of introspection chapters? Well, I felt like I
could sneak one in after all that action! Again, I wish Faramir was mine,
but he belongs to the brilliant mind of JRR Tolkien, though David Wenham
will very soon be mine! ALL MINE! PRECIOUS! (okay sorry)
Thanks to all the reviewers! I reloaded this because somehow, the last bit of it originally got cut off!
Chapter 27: Echo
As the sky changed colors, Theodred ordered a halt, and his men began to set up camp. They had covered several leagues throughout, but at the pace they were going, it would take them a week more of traveling to reach Edoras.
The men cooked some provisions that Denethor had provided from Minas Tirith, and soon, they had a fire smoldering and the men were talking and making merry. Elentari watched them, a small, languid smile upon her face, as she drank from a tin cup of tea that she had brewed, as she refused the ale the men had offered her. These men were now her countrymen, and she was now their lady. She watched them chattering and teasing one another, and realized, 'they aren't so different from the soldiers of Gondor. Not so different from Boromir and Faramir.' Yet no one could be like Faramir, or even Boromir for that matter. No one, no one could replace, or even come close to them in her heart.
Theodred had been brushing and rubbing down Brego, his steed, but had been watching Elentari from afar. He was pleased that she seemed at least content, and had a trace of a smile around her lips, tired as she looked. After massaging Brego's muscles and whispering a few words to his beloved steed, he went over to his affianced. She took her eyes off the fire as he approached, and as he offered her a smile, moved over so he could sit.
"Tired?" he asked.
She nodded wearily, though the sadness upon her was not as evident, which was what he had hoped.
"Well, we're still in Gondor, so you should be familiar with our surroundings still," Theodred said. She looked around, at the trees and heard the birds, and said, "I know the air, the trees, and the songs of the birds, but I never strayed too far away from Minas Tirith. The farthest I ever went was to Dol Amroth, and that was in visits."
"Did Denethor hoard his treasure so?" Though he said it teasingly, there was an air of seriousness in the question.
"I am here with you," she replied, "He can't have guarded it too seriously. Yet I am no treasure."
"Tell that to your brothers," she looked up in alarm, and he laughed at the bewildered look upon her face, "I saw the look in their eyes when we left."
She hung her head wistfully, thinking of Faramir, sorrow gracing her features, and Theodred was sorry he had mentioned it, for he hated when her eyes grew filmy and distant, full of nostalgic melancholy; a sorrow he did not understand, nor did she allow anyone to.
A stiff breeze blew over, causing the trees to whisper, and she shivered in the cold, her thin, muslin traveling dress barely covering her, though the fire was nearby. He reached over, pulling a woolen blanket from his pack, and wrapped it around her gently. His hand lingered, a bit tensely, around her shoulder, and as she did not protest, or make any sign of objection, he relaxed, little by little.
"My rider brings word that my father is most anxious to meet you," Theodred said, "As is Eomer and Eowyn, though Eomer said he needed not another woman to put up with." Another smile, colored by regret curved over her mouth, as she thought of Theodred's cousins.
"I should very much like to meet Eowyn," she mused.
"You remind me of her," Theodred's eyes were distant, "Though I would say you are water and Eowyn-fire." Elentari yawned heavily, and leaned her head against Theodred for support. It felt awkward to her, and out of place, though she was too tired to complain, and of course, there was no use in complaining. This was the man she would spend the rest of her life with; she might as well get used to it.
Theodred had insisted that she rest for the night, and guided her to a tent, where the men had placed some of her belongings, as she had requested.
As she lay there, trying to sleep her first night in the Wild, the tears that she had deprecated and fiercely denied the entire day finally spilled over. Her entire body wracked with sobs, for herself, for Faramir, for Boromir, Denethor, even Theodred.
For the entire day, she had been eerily aloof, feeling nothing, and hearing just the sound of the waves crashing in her mind. She wanted to be there, to let Ulmo take her, to hear the gulls crying. Now, that control vanished as abruptly as it had come, threatening to let her emotions engulf her. The look in Faramir's eyes had shattered her, and she wanted nothing but to dart back, back into that stone Gate, back up the seven levels, into his arms.
When Theodred had touched her, she had felt tremors going up her body, but instead of the shivers of desire that Faramir had instilled in her, these were ones of insecurity, anxiety, and even fear. She knew naught what she feared, for he was a kindly man, and she could tell that he loved her, which made the guilt inside her gnaw even more furiously. Tossing and turning, sleep eluded her, and the passing minutes only intensified her grief and longing for home, for Faramir's arms. At home, she merely had to go across the corridor, a few meters, and there was Faramir, in his room, welcoming her, no matter the hour. She wanted to slash holes in the tent, and was tempted to reach for her sword, for the cloth encircled her, blocking her from all view of the sky, of the white gems of fire embedded in the dark blanket that she drew so much comfort from.
The closed area stifling her, she threw her coverlets off, donned her coat, and went outside. Theodred was nowhere in sight, and the men were crowded around the fire. She made her way to the back of the camp, to the horses.
Her Talcalina was standing, apart from all the Rohirric creatures, thrusting her proud mane, as if exhibiting her Gondorian lineage, shunning the horses of the North.
Seeing her mistress, Talcalina trotted over, nuzzling Elentari with her head. Elentari fed her a treat, hugging her beloved horse's head, "It's good to see one familiar face, is it not, dear girl?"
The mare was restless, and neighed, facing southwards, showing her master that home was that way, and shook the earth with her hoofs.
"I know, I know, Talcalina," she whispered, easing her friend, hugging her head, "I know you miss Cirion," Faramir's steed, "I do too. Easy girl. I wish he were here," except she was referring more to Cirion's owner, than Cirion himself. She felt something wet grace her cheek, and saw that her horse had tears coming out of her eyes. At first, she looked up to the night sky, disbelievingly, thinking that it was rain, but sure enough, those were tears from Talcalina's eyes.
She soothed her horse for a while, hugging the mare's head, stroking her mane, until she heard a voice, "This is a thing to behold; a Gondorian lady amongst the horses when even Rohirric men are asleep."
She spun around so quickly that the man laughed, "Fear not, I meant no harm." She nodded in acknowledgement and he said, "But where are my manners? I am Halas, my Lady," he bowed.
She smiled, liking the man's frankness, "I never understood the title thing, but yes, I remember you often beside Theodred."
"Theodred is a good man," he said it almost to reassure her, as if knowing her heart, "I grew up in Edoras beside him, so I can say better than anyone."
"I can't wait to see it," her answer was half-hearted, and he sensed it in her voice.
"Might I be frank, my Lady?" Halas asked.
"Elentari," she wanted them to call her by her name. It was all foreign to her already, and she needed not the lines of courtesy isolating her, "And yes, you may."
He nodded, "Well, Elentari. It may be just my simple-minded imagination, but it seems, well, how should I say this. You seem sad," he simply put.
"A common conception," she said.
"I notice you did not disagree," he replied, "May I ask why?"
She did not answer him for a moment, and it seemed to him that she was trying to find a best answer for his question, "Halas, tell me. Do you love Edoras?"
"Of course, it is my home."
"And do you have family? A father? Brothers, perhaps?"
"My father died years ago, when he was still riding in an eored, but my mother yet lives, with my wife and child."
"How old is your child?" she inquired.
"Just born when I last left home for Gondor," Halas replied, his face lighting up as he thought about seeing his beloved wife and child again.
"Now tell me Halas. What if you had to leave them all? You had to leave all that you love, for a land that you do not know. Say that you had to leave your family, your city, and your country, for Gondor, to stay there. Would you be rejoicing?"
"Of course not," Halas' face showed shock and dismay. Elentari showed an almost sarcastic smile, and it finally dawned upon Halas.
"Oh," he uttered softly, "I am sorry, my Lady. I have never thought of it that way."
"Well now you know," she replied, "I have enjoyed speaking with you on this beautiful night, Halas. I bid you good night."
A soft song was upon her lips as she gazed up at the stars, drawing strength like the Elves long ago.
Come to me in the silence of the night
Come in the speaking silence of a dream.
Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright
As sunlight on the stream
Come back in tears
O memory of hope, love of finished years.
The buried tears threatened her again, and she choked to keep the song going.
O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bittersweet
Whose wakening should have been in Paradise
Where souls brim-full of love abide and meet;
Where thirsting, longing eyes
Watch the slow door
That opening, letting in, lets out no more.
Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
My very life again though cold in death
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath
Speak low, lean low
As long ago, my love, how long ago...
Are you gazing at the same stars as me, Faramir? Are you thinking of me, longing for me, as I for you?
Thanks to all the reviewers! I reloaded this because somehow, the last bit of it originally got cut off!
Chapter 27: Echo
As the sky changed colors, Theodred ordered a halt, and his men began to set up camp. They had covered several leagues throughout, but at the pace they were going, it would take them a week more of traveling to reach Edoras.
The men cooked some provisions that Denethor had provided from Minas Tirith, and soon, they had a fire smoldering and the men were talking and making merry. Elentari watched them, a small, languid smile upon her face, as she drank from a tin cup of tea that she had brewed, as she refused the ale the men had offered her. These men were now her countrymen, and she was now their lady. She watched them chattering and teasing one another, and realized, 'they aren't so different from the soldiers of Gondor. Not so different from Boromir and Faramir.' Yet no one could be like Faramir, or even Boromir for that matter. No one, no one could replace, or even come close to them in her heart.
Theodred had been brushing and rubbing down Brego, his steed, but had been watching Elentari from afar. He was pleased that she seemed at least content, and had a trace of a smile around her lips, tired as she looked. After massaging Brego's muscles and whispering a few words to his beloved steed, he went over to his affianced. She took her eyes off the fire as he approached, and as he offered her a smile, moved over so he could sit.
"Tired?" he asked.
She nodded wearily, though the sadness upon her was not as evident, which was what he had hoped.
"Well, we're still in Gondor, so you should be familiar with our surroundings still," Theodred said. She looked around, at the trees and heard the birds, and said, "I know the air, the trees, and the songs of the birds, but I never strayed too far away from Minas Tirith. The farthest I ever went was to Dol Amroth, and that was in visits."
"Did Denethor hoard his treasure so?" Though he said it teasingly, there was an air of seriousness in the question.
"I am here with you," she replied, "He can't have guarded it too seriously. Yet I am no treasure."
"Tell that to your brothers," she looked up in alarm, and he laughed at the bewildered look upon her face, "I saw the look in their eyes when we left."
She hung her head wistfully, thinking of Faramir, sorrow gracing her features, and Theodred was sorry he had mentioned it, for he hated when her eyes grew filmy and distant, full of nostalgic melancholy; a sorrow he did not understand, nor did she allow anyone to.
A stiff breeze blew over, causing the trees to whisper, and she shivered in the cold, her thin, muslin traveling dress barely covering her, though the fire was nearby. He reached over, pulling a woolen blanket from his pack, and wrapped it around her gently. His hand lingered, a bit tensely, around her shoulder, and as she did not protest, or make any sign of objection, he relaxed, little by little.
"My rider brings word that my father is most anxious to meet you," Theodred said, "As is Eomer and Eowyn, though Eomer said he needed not another woman to put up with." Another smile, colored by regret curved over her mouth, as she thought of Theodred's cousins.
"I should very much like to meet Eowyn," she mused.
"You remind me of her," Theodred's eyes were distant, "Though I would say you are water and Eowyn-fire." Elentari yawned heavily, and leaned her head against Theodred for support. It felt awkward to her, and out of place, though she was too tired to complain, and of course, there was no use in complaining. This was the man she would spend the rest of her life with; she might as well get used to it.
Theodred had insisted that she rest for the night, and guided her to a tent, where the men had placed some of her belongings, as she had requested.
As she lay there, trying to sleep her first night in the Wild, the tears that she had deprecated and fiercely denied the entire day finally spilled over. Her entire body wracked with sobs, for herself, for Faramir, for Boromir, Denethor, even Theodred.
For the entire day, she had been eerily aloof, feeling nothing, and hearing just the sound of the waves crashing in her mind. She wanted to be there, to let Ulmo take her, to hear the gulls crying. Now, that control vanished as abruptly as it had come, threatening to let her emotions engulf her. The look in Faramir's eyes had shattered her, and she wanted nothing but to dart back, back into that stone Gate, back up the seven levels, into his arms.
When Theodred had touched her, she had felt tremors going up her body, but instead of the shivers of desire that Faramir had instilled in her, these were ones of insecurity, anxiety, and even fear. She knew naught what she feared, for he was a kindly man, and she could tell that he loved her, which made the guilt inside her gnaw even more furiously. Tossing and turning, sleep eluded her, and the passing minutes only intensified her grief and longing for home, for Faramir's arms. At home, she merely had to go across the corridor, a few meters, and there was Faramir, in his room, welcoming her, no matter the hour. She wanted to slash holes in the tent, and was tempted to reach for her sword, for the cloth encircled her, blocking her from all view of the sky, of the white gems of fire embedded in the dark blanket that she drew so much comfort from.
The closed area stifling her, she threw her coverlets off, donned her coat, and went outside. Theodred was nowhere in sight, and the men were crowded around the fire. She made her way to the back of the camp, to the horses.
Her Talcalina was standing, apart from all the Rohirric creatures, thrusting her proud mane, as if exhibiting her Gondorian lineage, shunning the horses of the North.
Seeing her mistress, Talcalina trotted over, nuzzling Elentari with her head. Elentari fed her a treat, hugging her beloved horse's head, "It's good to see one familiar face, is it not, dear girl?"
The mare was restless, and neighed, facing southwards, showing her master that home was that way, and shook the earth with her hoofs.
"I know, I know, Talcalina," she whispered, easing her friend, hugging her head, "I know you miss Cirion," Faramir's steed, "I do too. Easy girl. I wish he were here," except she was referring more to Cirion's owner, than Cirion himself. She felt something wet grace her cheek, and saw that her horse had tears coming out of her eyes. At first, she looked up to the night sky, disbelievingly, thinking that it was rain, but sure enough, those were tears from Talcalina's eyes.
She soothed her horse for a while, hugging the mare's head, stroking her mane, until she heard a voice, "This is a thing to behold; a Gondorian lady amongst the horses when even Rohirric men are asleep."
She spun around so quickly that the man laughed, "Fear not, I meant no harm." She nodded in acknowledgement and he said, "But where are my manners? I am Halas, my Lady," he bowed.
She smiled, liking the man's frankness, "I never understood the title thing, but yes, I remember you often beside Theodred."
"Theodred is a good man," he said it almost to reassure her, as if knowing her heart, "I grew up in Edoras beside him, so I can say better than anyone."
"I can't wait to see it," her answer was half-hearted, and he sensed it in her voice.
"Might I be frank, my Lady?" Halas asked.
"Elentari," she wanted them to call her by her name. It was all foreign to her already, and she needed not the lines of courtesy isolating her, "And yes, you may."
He nodded, "Well, Elentari. It may be just my simple-minded imagination, but it seems, well, how should I say this. You seem sad," he simply put.
"A common conception," she said.
"I notice you did not disagree," he replied, "May I ask why?"
She did not answer him for a moment, and it seemed to him that she was trying to find a best answer for his question, "Halas, tell me. Do you love Edoras?"
"Of course, it is my home."
"And do you have family? A father? Brothers, perhaps?"
"My father died years ago, when he was still riding in an eored, but my mother yet lives, with my wife and child."
"How old is your child?" she inquired.
"Just born when I last left home for Gondor," Halas replied, his face lighting up as he thought about seeing his beloved wife and child again.
"Now tell me Halas. What if you had to leave them all? You had to leave all that you love, for a land that you do not know. Say that you had to leave your family, your city, and your country, for Gondor, to stay there. Would you be rejoicing?"
"Of course not," Halas' face showed shock and dismay. Elentari showed an almost sarcastic smile, and it finally dawned upon Halas.
"Oh," he uttered softly, "I am sorry, my Lady. I have never thought of it that way."
"Well now you know," she replied, "I have enjoyed speaking with you on this beautiful night, Halas. I bid you good night."
A soft song was upon her lips as she gazed up at the stars, drawing strength like the Elves long ago.
Come to me in the silence of the night
Come in the speaking silence of a dream.
Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright
As sunlight on the stream
Come back in tears
O memory of hope, love of finished years.
The buried tears threatened her again, and she choked to keep the song going.
O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bittersweet
Whose wakening should have been in Paradise
Where souls brim-full of love abide and meet;
Where thirsting, longing eyes
Watch the slow door
That opening, letting in, lets out no more.
Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
My very life again though cold in death
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath
Speak low, lean low
As long ago, my love, how long ago...
Are you gazing at the same stars as me, Faramir? Are you thinking of me, longing for me, as I for you?