Faramir Fiction Archive

Faramir's Second Chance (PG-13)

Written by Morwen

17 January 2013 | 25743 words | Work in Progress

Author note: This chapter will be the last chapter of Faramir when he is still a young lad. :( However, the story will continue, and I think it will get more interesting. Ahem, the rating is probably going to change. Haha. Please, comment! Your suggestions really inspire me and guide me, and I always appreciate them!

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Chapter Three

Back in his spacious chambers, Faramir was accompanied by Erestor for help in putting his robes on for the first time. When he lay his eyes on the beautiful velvet and silk fabrics that were resting on his bed, he drew a gasp; the outfit was just his size, the tunic made of silver and white silk with the over-cloak made of heavy, crushed, deep blue velvet. He had never seen a more beautifully made tunic, with such carefully embroidered accents. This new piece of his wardrobe was as impressive as one of Elrond’s finer pieces in his own wardrobe.

As a tasteful accent for the entire outfit, a carefully hand-crafted broach of the White Tree of Gondor made of silver held the cloak together at the neck. Though the broach reminded him of bad memories of Gondor, it reminded him of his brother, who always had worn tunics with the white tree embroidered on the chest. Faramir had never known anyone to be more proud of the White Tree than Boromir.

Faramir forced himself not to be sad, however, since Erestor was standing next to him, ready to help him put on his robes. The tunic had to go first, and Erestor laced it up for him carefully, so as to make Faramir as impressively dressed as possible for a night with the fine company they were going to have.

“You will learn how to make such neat knots and ties in time,” Erestor assured the young Gondorian. Faramir, however, was doubtful of that statement when he looked down to his chest to see such perfectly tied knots.

Next came the cloak, which made Faramir feel far more regal than he had ever felt. Oh, if only his brother could see him now; he would be impressed! The cloak, with all of its thick velvet and silk inner lining, was quite heavy; however, it was such an impressive piece of the entire outfit that Faramir felt more like an elf just from wearing it. Then came his brand new elven boots, which had an entirely different feel from his old leather ones. These new boots were made of soft suede, with intricate leaf designs embroidered along the sides.

With the White Tree broach in place upon his sternum, holding his cloak, Erestor declared him ready for the party, which was beginning in three quarters of an hour, and told Faramir to meet him in the front hall then. Faramir was then left in privacy in his own quarters, where he sat on one of the couches in the corner for a few moments to gather his thoughts somewhat. Then he realized that there was a full-length mirror on the other side of the room by his bureau, and went over to it to take a look at himself in his new wardrobe. It was indeed impressive, but he felt somewhat awkward in it still. Everything looked normal until he saw his face, his human non-pointed ears, and his curly, half-messed hair on his head. Blue eyes blinked back at him in the mirror, and the broach glittered brilliantly even in the dim light of his quarters.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, it was time for Faramir to join everyone else in the front hall of the house. He moved as smoothly as possible in his cloak, wanting to at least try to look like he fit in with all of the others. When he reached the front of the house, there were many elves lingering already, but one stood out from all the others, one with shining blonde hair who was donning a green cloak. The elf recognized him, as well.

“Faramir!” Legolas called, seeming glad to see someone he knew as well. They moved to a more quiet corner of the room to talk for a few moments. Even though Faramir had only met Legolas just yesterday, he was someone who was interesting to talk with. He seemed quite young, and was indeed young in comparison to some of the elves that were lingering about at the party, but he had wisdom that Faramir longed to learn. However, they did not have much time to talk, for Legolas needed to speak with some other elves about something important, and so Faramir was left alone for a moment. Lost among the crowd and looking for Erestor or Elrond to be with, it was then that he saw her. She was just a glimpse in the background at first, but as she drew closer, Faramir’s eyes were drawn to her form.

She was an elf; she had to be. Out of all of the elven women that Faramir had seen so far, she was by far the most beautiful. With such long and flowing brunette hair and radiant pale skin, and lips the color of deep red roses, her eyes stood out like beautiful blue gems. Her gown only served to make her more beautiful, its shimmering white silk and gauze reflecting in the candlelight, the beading on the bodice glimmering with each breath she took. A beautiful pendant lay on her breast, which also reflected beautifully. A small silver headdress rested upon her head. And just as Faramir was making the connection that her headdress looked so similar to Lord Elrond’s, the elf lord appeared next to her. Faramir watched as he kissed her hand, and she smiled and leaned in to give him a loving hug. She had to be Elrond’s daughter. Why had Faramir not seen her before? Did she live in the House? Had she been around this whole time and he had not noticed? That can’t be, Faramir thought to himself. She is far too beautiful, I would have noticed her before. But who is she? What is her name? As the daughter of such a mighty elf lord, I should have read her name somewhere before. Who is she? Who IS she? When her eyes strayed over to Faramir again, however, he knew that he might be caught staring. He quickly averted his eyes, darting his eyes from one thing to the next, trying to find something else to look at while his thoughts remained on her. He had never felt this sort of feeling in himself before, so it was taking him a while to collect himself.

“Oh, so you finally glimpsed Lady Arwen,” Erestor said, arriving by Faramir’s side. Faramir thought he could detect a hint of a laugh in Erestor’s voice. Elves could certainly seem psychic; it made Faramir slightly uncomfortable in this instance. He tried to appear calm as he asked, “Lady Arwen? Who is she?”

“Lady Arwen, Undomiel, the Evenstar, is Lord Elrond’s beloved daughter. She is known by most elves as the most beautiful elf to ever have existed, but you cannot let her beauty blind you to another truth: She is a great elven warrior, especially in times when she is most needed. She resides here in the House with her father, but was away last night. If she had been home, she most certainly would have been here for your arrival yesterday, and she wishes to meet you this evening.” Erestor was certainly good at providing information; Faramir’s heart skipped a few beats at the idea of this elven maiden desiring to meet him.

“You are not alone, young Gondorian; many Men and even elves would regard Lady Arwen as being the most beautiful elf of Rivendell, perhaps the most beautiful of all elves.” Faramir felt some sort of comfort in this, even though he still wasn’t sure how to feel about this. And before he could think on it any further, they were both walking by, with Elrond by her side. He could hear them speaking softly but quickly, and in the elven tongue, it sounded as though they had lots of interesting things to talk about. Faramir wondered if he would get to learn elvish. Was that something normally taught in school? He did not know the answer, but hoped he would learn it in time just by being exposed to it so much.

Faramir was next introduced to another Man, someone that Erestor had said was quite important and of course, someone that Faramir had seen once or twice in his early childhood. It was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, certainly come to Rivendell to speak with Elrond about something important. Why else would he be here?, Faramir thought to himself.

Soon enough came the time for the actual dinner to begin. There were thirty or so people here, both Men and Elves, and they were all getting ready to feast. Faramir got the honor of sitting directly to Elrond’s left at the table, while Lady Arwen was sitting on her father’s right. Legolas and Erestor were seated across the table from Faramir and Elrond, respectively. Glorfindel, whome Faramir did not know very well, was seated to Arwen’s right, and they were discussing something. Glorfindel had been away on a journey when Faramir had arrived, and he had only just returned that afternoon. Faramir knew that Glorfindel was another close counselor to Elrond, right alongside Erestor, and so he knew that he would soon know Glorfindel well.

The meal proceeded, and it was certainly a feast of a variety of foods. Elrond spoke with everyone at the table about the upcoming music as well as other pleasant things, but whenever he detected that Faramir had a question or something to say he diverted his attention to the youngest individual at the table.

“Elrond, do elves’ stomachs growl?” Faramir asked. Even though he asked it quietly, the elves’ keen hearing made no difference in terms of how quietly he asked it. There were several amused smiles. Elrond took his time in answering, first sipping his red wine. He set down his glass, and finally made eye contact with the boy.

“It matters not if we do or we do not; we would never tell anyone. The elves tend to keep secrets.” Faramir wasn’t sure if Elrond was being serious or not, until he heard that lovely ringing bell sound of the surrounding elves’ laughing, Legolas and Erestor included. Faramir looked up to an amused Elrond, who had a smirk running playfully across his face as he took another drink of wine. Faramir laughed along.

It was not until the near the end of the dinner at the table that Faramir ran into trouble. While they were on about their fifth course, the deliciously brewed stew he had smelled earlier on in the evening, he accidentally spilled some on his brand new, shining silver tunic. While hastily trying to cover that up (knowing that the elves had already seen it, but still trying to cover it up anyway), he accidentally landed his hand on his fork when he moved to set his fist down on the table. He hit the prong side of the fork, which sent the utensil somehow flying into the air. It was as if it were airborne. This was something the elves could not ignore; it wasn’t every day that a fork flew through the air in the Last Homely House. Faramir watched, aghast, as the fork landed in Erestor’s soup dish; the elf jumped, ever so slightly, as a few drops of the hot soup graced his cheek. Legolas quickly handed Erestor a clean napkin to wipe the soup off of his friend’s cheek, and Faramir lurched in horror when this happened, utterly shocked, and feeling his face go red. In the process of jumping up in his seat he hit his own bowl of stew with his other hand, but luckily Elrond’s lightning-fast reflexes had detected the problem and grabbed the bowl, steadying it. By now, the entire table was quiet; things seemed to be moving in slow motion. Faramir could feel his face already burning up, and felt as though all eyes were watching him. Then, there was one more thing to top it off – the fairest Lady at the table leaned forward to look at Faramir past her father and asked, in the smoothest and calmest voice, “Would you like a clean cloth?” Faramir sat there staring at the beautiful elf for just one second, feeling everyone’s eyes on him, before he abruptly got up from the table and ran quickly out of the room, the heavy blue cloak trailing behind him.

Oh, Faramir, how could you be so stupid? How could you fumble up like that in front of Lord Elrond, Legolas, Erestor, Aragorn, even Lady Arwen?? Faramir yelled to himself inside his own head. He was back in his chambers, after running up the stairs and through the hallways to get there. A few tears stung his cheeks; half were from embarrassment and shame, while the other half were from his own self-loathing. Did you see how she looked at you? Did you see how they all looked at you? How could you ruin Elrond’s nice dinner? Surely he is nothing short of embarrassed with me! That thought made him feel absolutely terrible and hopeless. If Elrond got upset with him, who would like him? Who would take care of him? After all, it was Elrond who had rescued him, Elrond who had comforted him… and now look at how he had repaid the great Elf Lord! His beautiful tunic was mussed up as well, and would need a thorough washing. He couldn’t show himself again tonight at the party, not while he looked such a mess.

Faramir spent quite some time crying into his pillows, laying on his stomach on the bed that was way too large for a boy his size. About half an hour past the dreadful moment at the dinner table, however, there was a knock on his door. Faramir paused, wondering whether he should ask the person to come in or if he should pretend that he was not there. However, with a sigh, he knew that any elf would be able to hear his breathing, so he bid whomever it was to enter. It was Erestor.

“Oh, Erestor, how is your face?” Faramir asked, thinking nothing of himself any more. He had been so selfish, not thinking of Erestor. Erestor looked mildly baffled by Faramir’s question, but recovered quickly.

“I am all well, thank you, Faramir. I thought I would find you here. Everyone at the table is now moving to the music hall for the music performance, and Elrond does not wish you to miss it. He says that he expects it to be quite an educational experience for you.” Faramir could hear the slightest bit of pity in Erestor’s voice.

“But Erestor, I cannot return to the party like this… my face is red, my eyes are red, and my tunic…” he gestured to the stain on his chest. Erestor’s eyes lit up and said, “Oh, but Faramir, that will come out easily.” The elf poured some water out of a pitcher and damped a cloth. A few moments later, the stain was completely removed from Faramir’s beautiful embroidered tunic. Faramir was absolutely amazed.

“Your face could do with a washing, Faramir, just to remove the redness,” Erestor said. “Otherwise, I think you will be just fine. One matter at the dining table will not make anyone offended – most of the people downstairs just wish to get to know you. You are of great importance to their Lord Elrond, and they will treat you with respect. And do not take it badly, but we know that you are a mortal human, and therefore you are somewhat more bound to experience more simple mistakes. I remember when Aragorn was but a child here in the house, and was always doing such things. He can still do such things, even now, as a full grown man – and almost dares us to mock him at times.” Erestor smiled at the thought as Faramir washed his face with cool water.

Erestor finally managed to convince the boy to come back downstairs with him to the music hall, and that was where they went. Faramir was glad that they had come in right before the show was to begin; some of the assistant elves were dimming the lighting in the room by blowing out excess candles, leaving the stage lit. All of the guests were sitting in their seats, but were still chattering. Faramir hoped that none of them noticed both he and Erestor arriving. Erestor led him to his seat next to Elrond, who was speaking with Aragorn. However, while Faramir thought that Elrond hadn’t noticed that he’d arrived, the elf slowly placed an arm around him and squeezed him ever so slightly, silently comforting him. Faramir instantly felt more at ease, knowing that Elrond might not be so angry at him after all. Erestor also managed to distract Faramir from his busy mind as well, by telling Faramir about the different musical instruments the elves used. They talked until the show began and the air was filled with beautiful music.

After the show (in all of its beautiful splendor) had finished, Faramir managed to escape quickly, seemingly unnoticed by everyone else. He almost wished to be forgotten and never thought of again, as sad as that was, but simply hiding out in his bedroom would do the trick until people forgot about what had happened. By this late in the evening, surely the elves would think he had gone to bed, and leave him in peace to think.

He reached his bedroom chambers and once he was inside, he saw that someone had lit the fire in his fireplace, which was giving off wonderful heat. He breathed a sigh of relief to be in his private quarters – and with such an inviting fire, he may just stay up half the night reading one of the books that were in the shelves next to his bed, or perhaps scribbling in his notebook about his first few days in Rivendell. He quickly changed into more casual clothing, not wanting to muss it up any more than he already had done earlier. Reaching over for his satchel, he dug to the bottom until he pulled out his dearest possession, a beautiful but slightly battered leather book, with crisp cream pages for writing. Faramir looked to the handsomely carved desk that was sitting on the other side of the room, and saw that there was an writing quill and ink available for him. He sat down in the chair, opened the book, and began to write. He lost track of time, as always, when he was thinking very hard on something.

Finally, after an extended period of time, there were two knocks on his door. Faramir put down his quill and got up from his desk, wondering if Erestor had come back to steal him away from his quiet chambers again. However, when he opened the door, he was shocked to find Elrond on the other side. The elf was dressed down a bit now, no longer wearing his burgundy velvet cloak. He also looked slightly concerned, and was holding a steaming mug in his hands with some kind of liquid in it. “Good evening, Faramir,” the elf said.

“Good evening. I had thought that everyone would have gone to bed.”

“I’m afraid not… I can tell when someone has slipped away from one of my parties.” Though it sounded accusing, Faramir heard the laugh in Elrond’s voice. “Besides, the elves do not sleep in the same way Men do. We can go without it, and we can even half sleep while walking about. So if you find elves walking around at all hours of he day and night, do not be alarmed, it is quite a normal part of the elf’s lifestyle. May I come in?” he asked. And of course, Faramir invited him in, wondering what all of the fuss was about. He guessed that the other guests from the party were gone by now. Elrond sat down on one of the chairs, and Faramir sat in the one across from him. The sound of the fire crackling in the background was the only noise. Elrond set the steaming mug on the small table in front of Faramir and said, “Drink. You will feel better.” Faramir, obeying orders, picked up the mug and took quite a big sip. He could tell it was some kind of tea, but it was also mixed with something else, perhaps a tonic. Whatever it was, it was quite good.

“Thank you. But what is it for?” he asked. Elrond took a deep, slow breath, resting his arms on the armrests of his chair and considering the boy for a moment before answering, “Faramir, you only just arrived, and I feel that I have rushed you. I know as a healer that you are still weary from the journey we were on, and you were not fully healthy and well fed to begin with. I need to place you in my own care, only until I know that you are feeling much better. That tonic will help you to feel relaxed.”

“Are you just saying this to make me feel better about what happened tonight?” Faramir thought he would just get the fact out there, and bring up the fact that he had caused such trouble at the dining table earlier in the evening. Elrond shook his head. “No, Faramir, I think that was just nerves – and I apologize if I put you in a situation where you felt so tense. It is not good for you.” Faramir, who had been stewing in his own thoughts for the past several hours, suddenly burst.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” Faramir burst out, sounding absolutely pitiful. By the look on Elrond’s face, he knew he would have to explain more, but he didn’t know how. Elrond had been expecting this, so he was ready to proceed.

“What are you speaking of?”

“I have to be the most clumsy person I know.”

“If you are trying to compare yourselves to the elves, young one, then you are going to find yourself the clumsiest. You must not compare yourself in that way.”

“I’m even the clumsiest human I know!”

“Faramir…” Elrond paused, wondering if this was the right time. He decided it was. This was something that had to be approached very carefully, though the timing seemed right. It would most likely make Faramir feel a little bit better if they had this talk. “Faramir, you are eleven years of age, correct?”

“I’m nearly twelve,” Faramir corrected him. Faramir was slightly confused by the question, but let the conversation continue without any questions. Elrond looked like he was hesitating slightly before saying, “Well, then, young one… it would not be uncommon for you to feel a bit clumsy. You will soon shoot up like a fresh sprout in the springtime.”

“Please excuse me, Elrond, but what are you talking about?”

“I am saying that soon, you are going to grow. You will get taller, and then you will not feel so unsteady. And not only will you grow taller, but you will grow older… you will grow into a man. A very strong and wise one, I am sure of it.” What Elrond was saying was slightly disturbing the younger man; he did not know what to think. “You will not be young forever, Faramir, surely you knew that. I think that you are just starting to grow up.”

By now, Faramir was just embarrassed. He had thought that some things about him were different; he just didn’t know what to make of it, and never found the courage to ask his brother about what might be wrong. Now there was an elf telling him what was wrong, and it felt positively weird to be talking about something like this. However, Elrond detected what was wrong; he knew exactly how Faramir felt, from his own days thousands of years ago when he went through the same thing. It was not as if elves did not go through the same awkward phase. “I hope you do not feel uncomfortable discussing this with me, Faramir; such things are important to discuss.” As a response, Faramir hung his head.

“Have you noticed different things about yourself, little one?” Elrond asked, keeping his voice soft even though they were already in the privacy of Faramir’s chambers. Faramir nodded and said, like the honest person he was, “Tonight, I did.”

“What was different?” When Elrond asked this, Faramir didn’t know how to answer without any possible way of embarrassing himself. He had never noticed someone like he had noticed Lady Arwen, and how was he going to tell Lord Elrond about that? Elrond was still waiting for an answer, so attempted to give one. “I… tonight, before the dinner began, I was in the front hall with Erestor. And then Lady Arwen came down the stairs… and then…” But Faramir realized that there was nothing else to say. He had not spoken with her, or waved to her, or had any sort of interaction with her… he had just watched her. So Faramir had nothing else to say. Luckily, however, it seemed that Elrond had understood was the boy was trying to say. He smiled a little, realizing. “You fancy Arwen, don’t you, Faramir?” It was a statement, not a question. Faramir didn’t want to give away the answer, but he didn’t need to open his mouth to betray himself – his face had blushed a deep red again, already. Elrond smiled, and Faramir did not understand why. Elrond could only find it purely adorable that Faramir had his first crush on his own beautiful daughter. “I cannot blame you, Faramir, she is very beautiful,” Elrond commented. “You do not need to feel embarrassed. It is normal for you to start thinking of such things. But even though you may like her, I am afraid that she is already quite devoted to Aragorn. They seem to quite enjoy each other’s company.” When the elf saw the boy’s face grow sad, he still found it adorable but still felt a twinge of sadness for the young man, and kept the smile off of his own face. This was not a time to make the young man feel any more embarrassed, if he hoped to keep a line of communication open between Faramir and himself.

“Arwen does still want to meet you and talk with you, and you will likely be spending much time together. She does live in this house, as she should; she is my daughter, and I like to keep her close under my care, as any father would. You will have many happy moments together, I am sure. Besides, I would have begun feeling concerned if these changes had not begun happening soon – I still remember when Estel, Aragorn, was going through the same thing, and Legolas as well. You will come through, I promise you that.” The calmness in Elrond’s voice about something that was so confusing of a situation was comforting to Faramir, who was glad that the topic had actually been brought up.

“Besides all of this,” Elrond continued, “I know that you are still weak from not eating well in Gondor. You need more rest, also, and definitely need to take care of yourself. Perhaps I should keep you in my care, just until you feel better. You can stay in your chambers instead of going to the healing wing with some of the other sick and injured, but I will check on you – I want to be certain that you are all right.” The elf stood up. “Drink the rest of that tonic,” he ordered, pointing to the mug on the table, “And then sleep. You should sleep well.” Elrond began to walk to the chamber door, before seeing the quill, ink, and leather notebook sitting upon his desk. He gestured to it, asking, “Do you write?”

“I do.” Faramir didn’t know why he was so interested; nobody but Boromir had ever been interested. Elrond picked up the book and asked, “May I?” Faramir nodded, and watched as Elrond flipped through the pages of the book. He counted the number of blank pages left in the back of the book and said, “Faramir, you are almost out of pages. We must get you another book.”

“Really? We can?” Faramir had spent all of his saved money on that leather notebook, since his father had never wanted to buy him one. The fact that Elrond was offering to give him one for nothing was astonishing to him.

“Of course we can, child. Writing is important. Recording thoughts, dreams, and writing stories, these are all important things. We will get you a new one just as soon as this one is full.” Elrond then walked to the chamber door before turning back and saying, “Faramir?”

“Yes?”

“You are welcome to talk with me any time. I do not wish you to be uncomfortable with anything. Please do not be afraid to talk with me, ever.” And with that, the elf stepped out of the door to give the boy time to sleep.

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