Linda's Lord of the Rings Fanfiction
The friendship of Aragorn and Faramir
Man of Many Faces
Title– The Hands of a Healer
Author: Linda Hoyland
Characters/Pairing: Aragorn, Gilraen
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Book/Source: LOTR book-verse
Disclaimer - These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.
“Naneth has a headache and needs to rest,” Gilraen told her small son who stared at her wide-eyed. She buried her aching head in the pillow as his nurse led him away.
“Estel make naneth better.”
Gilraen woke from an uneasy slumber to find her child pressing a handkerchief filled with crushed leaves against her forehead. She recognised a familiar scent.
“Did Master Elrond tell you to choose these leaves?”
“No, they called to Estel.”
Even as her pain started to ease, a thrill coursed through Gilraen. The child recognized athelas. He would be a great healer, and maybe more.
A/N. written for the Tolkien Weekly Prompt “Athelas.”
Chapter 2: Empty Handed
Title: Empty Handed
Author: Linda Hoyland
Characters/Pairing: Aragorn, Halbarad
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Book/Source: LOTR book-verse
Disclaimer These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.
Halbarad emerged from amongst the trees, shaking his head. “Not so much as a rabbit,” he said grimly.
“I had no better luck.” Aragorn pulled his cloak more closely around his shoulders and stamped his feet to keep warm. ”I fear for the children. They suffer most at times of famine.”
“Even the weather is against us!” exclaimed Halbarad when the leaden skies opened. At first odd snowflakes drifted down, but soon they fell in flurries. There would be no further hunting today.
“We shall have to seek food from Master Elrond,” said Aragorn. ”I cannot let my people starve.”
A/N. written for the Tolkien Weekly Prompt “Famine.”
Chapter 3: Respite
Title: Respite
Author: Linda Hoyland
Characters/Pairing: Aragorn, Halbarad
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Book/Source: LOTR book-verse
Disclaimer These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.
Sweat trickled down his face. Aragorn paused to wipe his brow.
"We have reached the river," said Halbarad.
The weary Ranger quickened his pace. At the water's edge he knelt, cupped his hands and drank deep.
Halbarad gazed longingly at the river's smooth surface. "Dare we?" he enquired.
"Why not? We should be safe here. A bath would feel good."
Aragorn was already peeling off his travel stained garments and casting them on the bank. Halbarad did likewise.
Laughingly the Rangers dived into the river, splashing and ducking one another like heedless children, their cares cast aside with their clothing.
A/N. written for the Tolkien Weekly Prompt “Water.”
Chapter 4: Apprehension
Title: Apprehension
Author: Linda Hoyland
Characters/Pairing: Aragorn.
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Book/Source: LOTR book-verse
Disclaimer These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.
Aragorn flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his tunic for perhaps the tenth time. Apprehensively he rehearsed the words of the ceremony in his head. He dared not; must not make any mistakes on such an important occasion. A wedding was the greatest day of a man's life, or so it was said.
The bride appeared, lovely and pale, clad in blue and leaning upon her father's arm.
The nervous groom took his place beside her.
Aragorn cleared his throat and began, "It is my honour and privilege as chieftain to join you, Halbarad, and you, Elwen in wedlock."
A/N. written for the Tolkien Weekly Prompt “Wedding.”
Chapter 5: Alone at the Feast
Title – Alone at the Feast
Author: Linda Hoyland
Characters/Pairing: Aragorn, Halbarad, OFC
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Book/Source: LOTR book-verse
With thanks to Raksha
Disclaimer - These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.
“You have a fine boy!”
The celebrations had begun as soon as the midwife announced the glad tidings. Wine flowed freely while an ox was killed and roasted, so that all might share the new father’s joy.
An old man struck up a tune on a fiddle and couples began to dance.
“Come, Aragorn! ”cried Halbarad seeing the Chieftain stood apart. “You joined us in wedlock, now you must be amongst the first to meet my son!”
Aragorn forced a smile, not wishing to dampen his friend’s joy. Would his heart’s desire ever be granted, that he too might rejoice?
Written for the "Celebration " Challenge at Tolkien Weekly.
Chapter 6: No Common Soldier
Title – No Common Soldier
Author: Linda Hoyland
Characters/Pairing: Aragorn, Denethor
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Book/Source: LOTR book-verse
Disclaimer - These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.
With thanks to Raksha
Thorongil sang softly as he polished his gear, a rapt expression on his face.
“I am surprised that you know this song.”
Denethor’s words startled him out of his reverie.
”I have known it since childhood,” Thorongil said simply.
“The words are remembered only by scholars and those of high lineage here in Gondor,” Denethor said coldly. “What common soldier would know “The Lay of Lúthien?”
“It is different in the North."
“It surprises me that those living in such a desolate land would study lore,” said Denethor.
“Much about the North would surprise you,” said Thorongil, resuming his song.
Written for the "Song" challenge on "Tolkien Weekly."
Chapter 7: Empty Places
Title – Empty Places
Author: Linda Hoyland
Characters/Pairing: Aragorn
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Book/Source: LOTR book-verse
Disclaimer - These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.
With thanks to Raksha
Empty places
This was his moment of triumph; the moment of which he had dreamt since he came to manhood. The crown weighed heavy on the newly crowned Elessar’s head, while the robes felt unfamiliar. He knew, though, they would grow more familiar as time passed.
The food was sumptuous; the plates finer even than those at Rivendell. Minstrels played sweetly, singing of the new King's great deeds
Lords and ladies, warriors and craftsmen, Elves and Hobbits were seated at the table. Yet Aragorn saw only the empty spaces left by those who had fallen ere this coronation feast could be held.
A/N .Written for the "Feast" challenge on "Tolkien Weekly."
Chapter 8: Fit For a King?
Title: Fit For a King
Author: Linda Hoyland
Characters/Pairing: Aragorn, Faramir
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Book/Source: LOTR book-verse
Disclaimer - These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.
With grateful thanks to Raksha
Fit for a King?
“Would you join me for a drink this evening?” The recently crowned Elessar asked Faramir.
“Thank you, sire, I am honoured,” said Faramir.
Flanked by guards, the two men descended to a tavern on the fifth level.
“How may I serve my lords?” enquired the innkeeper. “I have the finest wines from Dorwinion to Lossarnach.”
“A glass of Dorwinion, please” said Faramir.
“And a tankard of beer for me, please,” said Aragorn. "Do you have Dragon's Breath?
Faramir stared open mouthed. Farmers and other common folk favoured Dragon’s Breath. It seemed he had much to learn about his new lord.
A/N .Written for the "Beer" challenge on "Tolkien Weekly
Chapter 9: Finest Vintage
Title: Finest Vintage
Author: Linda Hoyland
Characters/Pairing: Aragorn, Arwen, Elrond
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Book/Source: LOTR book-verse
Disclaimer - These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.
With grateful thanks to Raksha
Aragorn thoughtfully sipped his glass of wine. It was one of Rivendell’s finest, a rare vintage that Master Elrond only brought out on special occasions.
Aragorn had enjoyed the sharp, sweet taste on many memorable days. Despite Elrond’s sorrow at his daughter’s choice, the wine had toasted Aragorn’s homecoming after his great deeds in Rohan and Gondor. The same vintage had celebrated Frodo’s recovery.
Today brought the culmination of Aragorn’s long years of waiting as he celebrated his union with Arwen. The wine was even better than he recalled, but the kisses that awaited him would be sweeter by far.
Chapter 10: Sweeter than Wine
Title: Sweeter than Wine
Author: Linda Hoyland
Characters/Pairing: Aragorn, Arwen, Elrond
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Book/Source: LOTR book-verse
Disclaimer - These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.
With grateful thanks to Raksha.
Aragorn had tasted many fine wines. Master Elrond’s cellar was renowned amongst all those of the Free Peoples who possessed a discerning palate. The Rangers knew many a recipe to coax a fine wine from such humble fruits as the elderberry. While the Rohirrim cared little for the juice of the grape, their mead was a drink fit to offer the Valar! When Aragorn arrived in Gondor, he found Ecthelion’s cellar contained some of the finest wines in Arda. Yes, Aragorn had enjoyed many a good wine, but no taste was sweeter and headier than the kisses of his bride.
A/N. Written for the "Wine" challenge on "Tolkien Weekly
Chapter 11: Crown of Thorns
Title – Crown of Thorns
Author: Linda Hoyland
Characters/Pairing: Aragorn/Arwen
Rating: PG
Warnings: minor injury
Book/Source: LOTR book-verse
Disclaimer - These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.
The roses bloomed early in Gondor, a profusion of blossoms in pink and white, and released a headier perfume than those in the North. Or did he just fancy it so, now that he could gather them freely for his beloved?
Ignoring the gardeners’ scandalised expressions, Aragorn carefully selected the finest blooms for his Queen. It was the least he could do for the one who had given him her all.
A sharp pain pierced his finger. He glanced down and saw the droplet of crimson blood. The roses were fair indeed, but each stem bore cruel thorns in plenty.
A/N .This was written for the "Roses" Prompt on "Tolkien Weekly".
Chapter 12: A Feast of Lemons
Author: Linda Hoyland
Characters/Pairing: Aragorn/Arwen
Rating: G
Warnings: none
With thanks to Raksha
Book/Source: LOTR book-verse
Disclaimer - These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.
A Feast of Lemons
All the guests of the King and Queen of Gondor were enjoying a sumptuous feast; all that is; save the Variag envoy, who appeared most ill at ease.
The lords and ladies tittered behind their hands as he visibly struggled to select the proper cutlery.
Then came the fish course; Anduin trout garnished with thin pieces of lemon. Unsure how to proceed, the envoy ate the sour slices of fruit, much to the mirth of his dining companions.
Aragorn Elessar glared. He put a slice of lemon into his own mouth, as did Arwen Undómiel. Embarrassed, the guests fell silent.
A/N. This was written for the prompt “Embarrassment” at “Tolkien Weekly.”
Chapter 13: Cruel Torment
Title: Cruel Torment
Title – Cruel Torment
Author: Linda Hoyland
Characters/Pairing: Aragorn, Faramir
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Book/Source: LOTR book-verse
Disclaimer - These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.
Cruel Torment
This torment is far worst than fighting an army of Orcs: countless wordy speeches from worthy lords to listen to patiently; then the ambassadors bring gifts, each more hideous than the last. I endeavour to look pleased with cloaks made of peacock feathers and hideous gem encrusted trinkets.
The worst ordeal is yet to come: a twelve-course banquet of which I am expected to heartily partake while listening to minstrels loudly praising my worthy deeds. Would that that I could be out performing some!
Faramir smiles and whispers in my ear. ”Birthdays come but once a year, my lord!”
A/N .Written for the "Birthday" challenge on "Tolkien Weekly.
Chapter 14: Bitter Sweet
Title – Bitter Sweet
Author: Linda Hoyland
Characters/Pairing: Aragorn, Faramir
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Book/Source: LOTR book-verse
Disclaimer - These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.
Bitter Sweet
“More mead, my lords?”
Faramir held out his drinking horn to be refilled. Aragorn shook his head.
“I thought you liked mead?” The Steward asked his friend.
“I do, but one horn-full is enough when it is this strong!”
“Mead strong? It was not when Éowyn and I were married.”
“That is because a bridegroom is expected to remain alert!” Aragorn chuckled.
***
”Éomer awaits us for breakfast!” Aragorn declared the next morning.
Faramir groggily opened his eyes. ”The sun is too bright, my head aches!" He groaned.
“Even honey taken in excess can leave a bitter taste,” said Aragorn smugly.
A/N .Written for the "Mead" challenge on "Tolkien Weekly.
Chapter 15: Beyond Compare
Title – Beyond Compare
Author: Linda Hoyland
Characters/Pairing: Aragorn, Eldarion
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Book/Source: LOTR book-verse
Disclaimer - These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.
Beyond Compare
When Aragorn was an infant, the fairest sight on Arda was his mother’s smile; when he was a boy; his greatest treasure was his favourite pony; as a young man; Arwen’s beautiful eyes.
Later, the plains of Rohan had seemed fair; but lovelier still was the White City he hoped to rule. In time, such wonders paled, and nothing than seemed fairer than Imladris with his loved ones' smiles welcoming him home.
Aragorn had seen many wonders, but this sight was the greatest of all. His infant son’s milk smeared face was beyond doubt the greatest treasure that Arda held.
A/N. Written for the "Milk" challenge on "Tolkien Weekly. This concludes this series of drabbles.
Impressions
Impressions by Linda Hoyland
|
These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain
Half hearted - Elrond - Co-written with Raksha "I have pledged myself to Aragorn, adar; and given him my heart. Together we shall abide the Doom of Men." My daughter’s words strike me like a blow. Long have I feared the day when a child of mine would forsake the Eldar. I still miss my brother, through all the long years since we were sundered. Were Aragorn an Elf, I could rejoice with my whole heart. None of my many fosterlings have become so close a son to me as Estel. And yet, if my brother chose a mortal life, how can I deny it to my child?
The Mission - Faramir “Your brother shall go to Imladris,” Denethor said firmly to his younger son. “I have granted him the errand.” “I had the dream several times, father, Boromir had it but once,” Faramir protested. ”Maybe he dreamed, because I told him of my vision.” “I have decided and will not be gainsaid,” said the Steward, looking at Faramir sharply. If this dream portended what he thought it might, he was not risking this impressionable wizard’s pupil of a son on such a mission. Should the heir to the sword -that -was broken come forth, he feared Faramir’s head would be turned. A/N
The idea of Denethor fearing to send Faramir on the mission came about in e mail discussions on the subject with Raksha some months ago and was her idea. The conversation in the story takes place in July 3018
The Parting Gift - Galadriel I could have turned him away; made certain he never passed my borders to behold her again. Instead, I bade him welcome, had a bath prepared and fine garments laid out for him. Joy had long eluded Arwen. I feared her fading. Aragorn ached with emptiness. I saw into his heart and hers. Destiny dictates that they be united. Today I bestow the bride gift upon him. The adoration in his eyes at her name awes me. I lose much at his gaining. Yet, he is worthy indeed. Though I am doomed to diminish, their fruit will flourish. I rejoice. A/N. The events take place as the Fellowship takes leave of Galadriel. She is looking back to events of almost 40 years earlier.
Last Thoughts - Boromir I wish I could have seen you one last time, Faramir. Perhaps it is better this way. I failed to fulfil the mission that you would have claimed. Would you have succumbed so easily, little brother? I sought only to bring glory to Gondor. My eyes grow dim. Elendil’s heir is beside me, holding my hand. Weeping, he blesses me. I have no choice but to charge him with saving our people. Had I not fallen this day, would I have hailed him as king? Would I have let this Ranger from the North supplant our father? I know not...... A/N
This is a sequel to my story “The Slave of the Ring”.
The events take place in the book on 26th February 3019
Blessed by Hope- Éomer - Co-written with Raksha Hope has long faded from the Riddermark. Yet yield I will not! While I can still bear blade, I shall fight the fierce foes, defending lord and land and my shadowed House. Today we slew many Orcs, though we lost brave comrades in the battle. I was weary. Then I espied three strangers, seemingly springing from the grass to ask my aid. Do I dream? Elves and Dwarves are known in tales of sorcery. But never have I seen the like of the man who stands before me. He stirs my soul. The light in his eyes kindles hope anew A/N .The events in this drabble take place in the book on the last day of February in 3019.
Thengling mighty -Théoden With grateful thanks to Raksha for suggesting the title and beta reading. For, behold, the darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people: but the LORD shall arise upon thee, and his glory shall be seen upon thee. And the Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising. Isaiah 60 2-3 Darkness enshrouded him. Deep darkness. He knew not for how long. Day followed day, month followed month, and year followed year. The children of his House tried in vain to lift his spirits. The darkness though was stronger. Wormtongue's words seemed wisdom, lulling him back to lethargy when inklings of awareness dawned. Dark were his days and darker his disgrace. Then hope entered the hall. The wizard once grey garbed, now gleamed white. Stretching forth his staff, he kindled anew the King's fading flame.
A/N Théoden was healed by Gandalf on March 2nd 3019 and died in battle on March 15th.
A Man of Worth - Éowyn Why does no one understand? I cannot lie here. I want to fight and die beside my brother and beside him, though he loves me not. What hope remains for me? The Steward turns to look at me, his gaze both stern and sad. My heart leaps amazed. It were almost as if l looked upon the Lord Aragorn. I sense rare nobility and great strength within this man too. He gently smiles upon me; his grey eyes kind and insightful. I sense an inner pain there, reflecting mine own. Maybe Lord Aragorn is not the only man of worth?
This is my version of Éowyn’s first impression of Faramir. at the first meeting Tolkien described in his book .I imagine it takes place around March 20th,depending on how quickly they recover from their injuries. We know the Host departs on March 18th from Minas Tirith. I imagine this taking place two days after my story “Facing the Darkness” ends.
Flame and Shadow – Aragorn The King, his Queen beside him, lit the bonfire. It first flickered, then flared to full flame. Aragorn drew Andúril and stepped away, hailing the year’s rebirth. The firelight rose behind him, seeming to wreath his sword and noble features in living flame. Faramir hung back within the shadows. “Come forth and stand beside me,” Aragorn invited. “A new age has dawned, the returned King should greet the year,” the Steward answered. “What is the future without the past?” Aragorn replied. “Our land needs both. Together we shall build Gondor anew.” As he spoke, the bells proclaimed the sun reborn. A/N .I imagine the events taking place during the Winter Solstice of 3019 after "The White Tree" but before "Shadow and Thought."
The Right Choice - Arwen
Now it can never be. I shall not see my mother until the ending of the world. I have made my choice. My son starts to cry. I take him from his cradle and put him to my breast. He suckles contentedly. The love I feel for him is overwhelming. I understand now the truly wondrous depths of a mother’s love. Aragorn awakes beside me. He smiles at me, his eyes filled with adoration. I have chosen rightly. My mother will understand.
A/N . We do not know when Eldarion was born in Tolkien’s version of events. In my stories this takes place near the end of “Burden of Guilt” and could be a missing scene from the story.
The Lesson - Aragorn and Faramir The covered object stood in the centre of the table. Faramir approached it hesitantly. He was known as a tamer of man and beast, but this thing and the memories it evoked caused even his valiant heart to quail. Yet, learn to use it he must, if he were to prove a worthy Steward of the Realm. “You do not have to do this, my friend,” Aragorn said gently. “I must,” Faramir replied. ”It cannot destroy me as it did my father. Sauron is no more.” “I will teach you how best to master it,” Aragorn replied, unveiling the palantír. A/N I imagine this scene-taking place sometime after my current story in the second year of the Fourth Age.
|
Odious Orcs - co written with Raksha
Hidden in a tree, Aragorn watched as the Orcs kicked and beat Legolas and tore off his tunic. They then tied him to the very tree where Aragorn sheltered, and began to whip the Elf.
Legolas uttered no sound as the cruel thongs scored his fair Elven flesh with bloody raised wheals.
“Elendil!“ Aragorn howled, leaping from the tree. Taken by surprise, the vile Orcs stood no chance.
Hastily stepping over their corpses, Aragorn untied Legolas.
“How are you, mellon nin?” he asked anxiously.
“I’m fine, Estel,” Legolas replied, blinking his big blue eyes. Smiling, he fainted into Aragorn’s arms.
A/N. This is a parody and completely AU.It is not linked to my other stories.
Seeing Red
Faramir wept bitterly, tears pouring from his blue eyes.
“Stop crying, boy, or I’ll beat you again!” Denethor said harshly.
“I’m crying because you don’t love me, daddy!”
“It is unlikely I even am your father - you have red hair!” Denethor roared.
“Could the renowned Captain Thorongil be my daddy then?” Faramir asked hopefully, dodging a blow from the enraged Steward’s hand.
“Impossible!” Denethor snapped. “The scoundrel left before you were begotten. He was dark too.”
Faramir looked disappointed, then cheered up as a new thought struck him.
”Boromir does not have dark hair either,” he remarked.
Denethor exploded.
A/N.This is of course,Movieverse and has no connection to my other stories about Faramir
Beloved Hero - A man and his tree.
The tree saw the man approach. It was love; or rather lust at first sight.
The fact that he was pierced with arrows only made him more appealing in its bark-shrouded eyes.
Overcome, the man collapsed. The tree moved forward to support him and caress him with its tender green branches. It shed its leaves to prove a soft bed for him to lie upon.
One of man’s companions’s approached and knelt at his side. Jealously, the tree dropped twigs upon him, but he heeded them not.
The wounded hero breathed his last. The tree wept bitter tears of sap.
A/N. This is a parody, AU and to be taken with a large pinch of salt
The Wink of an Eye
Denethor unveiled the Seeing Stone with eager hands. What would it now reveal of the Dark Lord's evil: distant armies riding, Orcs massing, or the Witch-king himself?
Instead, Denethor glimpsed the terrible lidless Eye of Barad-dûr. He steeled himself and looked into its fell gaze.
The Eye winked at him.
Certain his mind was playing tricks, Denethor looked again.
The Eye winked back.
Shuddering, Denethor re-covered the Orb; then hastened from the Tower on trembling legs.
Sauron stretched his mouth in a lipless grin. It pleased him to trifle with Gondor's solemn Steward. He would drive him to madness yet!
Graphic - Device of Hador by JRR Tolkien created by nerwende.
Further Impressions
The Dawn of Hope
For all my foresight, it grieves me to see my little girl in pain.
My daughter bears her ordeal with the dignity expected a chieftain’s wife. Only the crushing grip on my hand betrays her agony.
She cries out only when the babe enters the world.
“A fine boy!” exclaims the midwife, “What will you and your lord call him?”
She hands the babe to me while she tends my daughter. Instead of crying, he looks into my eyes. I know then that hope has dawned at last for our people.
Gilraen smiles at her son. ”His name is Aragorn.”
This was written to mark Aragorn's birthday and is inspired by this passage from 'The tale of Aragorn and Arwen."
'But Ivorwen, his wife, who was also foresighted, answered: "The more need of haste! The days are darkening before the storm, and great things are to come. If these two wed now, hope may be born for our people; but if they delay, it will not come while this age lasts."
Darkening Days
With thanks to Raksha
One by one, death claimed our friends. First, Éomer and the Hobbits, now Faramir.
Each death seemed to diminish Estel a little, especially Faramir’s.
They were so alike, kindred souls, the last of Númenor.
I saw our Steward, once so vigorous and hearty, slowly fading, until the Doom of Men overcame him.
“I hope I shall depart with the same accepting grace,” my husband tells me, weeping anguished tears. “I too, am growing old.”
Foreboding fills my heart, knowing that Estel must one day follow him. I shall taste the bitterness of mortality with him. Slowly, the days grow darker.
A/N
Faramir died in year 82 of the Fourth Age. Aragorn lived for another 38 years.
Walk no more in Shadows
“Walk no more in shadows, but awake,” I tell him. I sense so many shadows, not all caused by Sauron’s minions.
Those shades reach far back into the past, overshadowing the small child deprived of a mother's love, the restless youth vainly striving for his father’s approval; the darkness of a brother’s deeds and death. Darkest of all is the shadow of the father slain by his own hand, who would have consigned his son to the flames.
Walk no more in shadows cast by others. Awake, O Jewel of Gondor, to walk in the sun at my right hand!
Awakening
Faramir’s eyes open, the clear grey of a true child of Númenor. He resembles me as a son might. His eyes meet mine.
I expect to see confusion in his gaze. Instead, he looks at me with love and recognition, almost as if he expected to see me.
“What does the king command?” he asks me, thus bringing closer my dreams of marriage and heirs.
Love springs between us. Friendship and fealty both, kindled in that instant.
I smile, my heart gladdened to have snatched this prize from Sauron’s grasp.
Gondor has need of this son and so will I.
Written for Raksha's Faramir week. With thanks to her.
Tamer of Man and Beast
Inheritance
With grateful thanks to Raksha.
The Ring is rightfully mine. By taking it, I would set Frodo free from a burden too great for one so small to bear. Without my aid, the poor hobbit could not even have reached Rivendell.
Once I wield it, none will withstand me. Denethor will yield the rod and I shall be King. I can claim Arwen as my bride. No more waiting; no more hiding in the shadows! Sauron shall be defeated and I will rule over all.
Aragorn started at his own folly. The Ring had betrayed Isildur; it would not claim his heir as victim too.
A/N Inspired by a recent drabble on Tanqui's LJ
Death of Hope
I always knew this dreaded day would come. Yet nothing could prepare me for it. I pleaded with him to stay, much to my shame. Would it have been easier if I had watched him growing ever weaker, losing everything that made him the man he was? I know not.
He departed with such courage, full of hope, my Estel to his last breath.
Is this the true Gift of Men that more than memories await?
Even in death his glory was not diminished.
I feel half of my spirit departed with him. I am left but a walking shadow.
A/N Dedicated to the memory of a very dear friend.
The Honour of the House
“Let us drink toasts!” proposed Éomer. “Let us drink a welcome to our guests!”
“All hail!” The Rohirrim raised their drinking horns.
Aragorn and Faramir smiled their thanks.
“Let us drink to the memory of the Glorious Dead, Théoden King and all our forefathers who fell fighting with honour! All hail”
“All hail!” the assembly echoed with one voice.
Faramir’s cheeks flushed with shame. His father had died an ignominious death unlike the fathers of his companions. Even as Théoden had fallen upon the field, Denethor had ignited his own pyre.
Aragorn’s kindly gaze fell upon him.
Later that evening Éomer sat alone with his guests.
“You have restored the honour of your House,” Aragorn told his Steward.
“I have wrought no great deeds.” Faramir stared fixedly at the fire.
“Who resisted the Ring and helped the Hobbits? Who braved the Nazgûl might? Who gave Gondor into my safekeeping and is rebuilding Ithilien anew? Whose wisdom helps me govern wisely?” Aragorn smiled at his Steward, needing no answers to his questions.
“And who healed my sister’s heart and brought her happiness?” said Éomer. “Why, you of course, Faramir!”
Faramir turned from the fire and faced them, his head held high.
Green
With thanks to Raksha.
To Faramir, green had always been a grim reminder of war. It was after all, the shade of the uniforms that he and his fellow Rangers wore to conceal them from the Enemy. The drabness had mirrored the sorrow in his heart as his father declined and Gondor with him. Each day the Dark Lord’s power had increased. Everything had seemed drained of life and colour by Sauron’s evil power.
Now that drabness had vanished. Each colour seemed brighter and more vibrant. The sky was bluer and unclouded by the fumes of Mordor. It was the green though, that caught Faramir’s eye as he rode through Ithilien’s woods one morning.
Every tree was clothed in its finery of fresh summer leaves. The birds flew from tree to tree, twittering joyfully as they build their nests. He too would build his own home soon at Emyn Arnen and nest there with his lady. Green was her favourite colour, the hue of her people’s banners.
Never before in living memory had the fields been so lush and verdant, promising the most abundant harvest in living memory. It seemed the earth itself was rejoicing at Sauron’s defeat and the coming of the King.
“Regret what?” The younger man looked puzzled.
“That you are not Ruling Steward,” said the King.
Faramir laughed aloud. ”How could I, when I have all this?” He gestured around him. Fields once battlegrounds were now covered by waving corn and scarlet poppies. Honeysuckle and wild roses bedecked the hedgerows. Butterflies and bees flitted from flower to flower, blackbirds and thrushes sang sweetly in the treetops.
“I have the fairest garden in Gondor to share with my Éowyn. What more could any man want?”
The days were shortening, the leaves slowly turning red and gold.
He used to dread these days, heralding the hardship of a long northern winter.
No longer did his spirits fall with the tumbling leaves. Cold nights could be spent by a warm fire with his wife and children and the cheerful company of good friends.
Sometimes on summer days, he lamented his loss of freedom to wander in the wilds, feeling sun upon his skin and the wind in his hair.
Curled on cold nights in his wife's warm embrace, Aragorn Elessar counted the advantages of hearth and home.
icon by annwyn55
Acquittal
Aragorn sat watching his Queen playing with their children in the gardens. He laughed as Eldarion vainly chased a butterfly. Then his expression suddenly became sombre.
“What ails you, my friend?” asked Faramir coming to sit beside him.
“Arwen will never see her kinsfolk again because she chose to wed me,” Aragorn said sadly.
“She had centuries in which to choose a bridegroom from amongst the Eldar,” Faramir replied. ”She chose you. Together you have created a new family. Do not feel guilty, but rather rejoice that she found in you the joy that had eluded her until you met.”
The Wink of an Eye
With grateful thanks to Raksha who inspired this drabble.
Denethor unveiled the Seeing Stone with eager hands. What would it now reveal of the Dark Lord's evil: distant armies riding, Orcs massing, or the Witch-king himself?
Instead, Denethor glimpsed the terrible lidless Eye of Barad-dûr. He steeled himself and looked into its fell gaze.
The Eye winked at him.
Certain his mind was playing tricks, Denethor looked again.
The Eye winked back.
Shuddering, Denethor re-covered the Orb; then hastened from the Tower on trembling legs.
Sauron stretched his mouth in a lipless grin. It pleased him to trifle with Gondor's solemn Steward. He would drive him to madness yet!
The Rival
I look at the unconscious man’s face. How like his father he is!
Should Sauron fall, Denethor’s remaining son would be the last obstacle between my hopes of Gondor’s crown and winning Arwen’s hand.
I am exhausted, yet Gandalf requests I heal my rival: the man who could destroy all my hopes, a man now hovering near death.
I take Faramir’s hand and feel his brow. I sense a man of quality and goodness. I cannot allow this man’s life to be forfeit to the Dark Lord when I could prevent it.
Whatever it costs me, I must save him.
A/N. A very personal view of a favourite moment from LOTR. Written for the "Difficult Decisions "Challenge.
The Shadow
With grateful thanks to Raksha
My shadow haunts me still: in dreams, in the looking- glass.
I loathed him, yet I loved him too. For were we not akin? He understood the Ring's power, its consuming grasp, like no other.
My friends say they understand, but they are mistaken. Even Sam. Especially Sam. His honest, kindly soul could never comprehend what bound me to Sméagol and binds me still.
Did I lose my finger or my shadow on the mountain?
All unwilling, he destroyed the Ring when I could not. Can a shadow cross the Sundering Sea?
I hope not, or my journey is vain.
Home is where the Heart is
The dancers swirled around the room, resembling colourful blossoms swaying in the wind. There were few flowers, though, in the City. It felt like a barren desert of stone.
Her heart ached for the flowery meadows of her homeland with the feel of soft grass beneath her bare feet.
Then she saw him. Smiling, he took her hand, leading her in the dance.
He held her tightly, guiding her footsteps, his breath warm against her skin, his heart beating against her own.
Arwen’s sorrow melted like frost before the sun. Here was her true home, safe in her husband’s arms.
View My Stats
