Faramir's Second Chance (PG-13) 
Written by Morwen17 January 2013 | 25743 words | Work in Progress
Pairing: Faramir/Elrond
Summary: When Faramir is still a child, Elrond rescues him from Denethor’s wrath and brings the child to Rivendell to stay for good. As time passes and Faramir grows older and wiser, who knows what will happen?
Disclaimer: I don’t own Lord of the Rings and I certainly don’t any of these characters. I just like to write about them once in a while. :)
Author note: This fic is only one chapter for now, but depending on reviews and what people think of it, I have more ideas for what will happen as Faramir grows up in this new land. It probably would not stay rated G for long, though… :P
Chapter One
It was another rainy night in Minas Tirith. The guard looked down to the level of white city below them, as they stood at the Citadel. The guard stood around the white tree, ever protective and cautious, waiting for the day when their King would return. They watched on the level below, as people settled down for the night ahead; the sun had gone down just a while ago. Evening was creeping in.
There was one rider on a white horse, cloaked and hidden, though there didn’t seem to be an air of danger about him. The villagers never looked at him twice; no sense of danger was emanating from him. They let him ride slowly up the levels of the city, until he reached the citadel. The black velvet cloak covered his entire face, concealing all identity. When he reached the citadel, he was met by the guard.
“Show yourself,” the head of the guard called, waiting. The cloaked figure dismounted his horse gracefully and paused, before finally revealing himself. A great elf stood before them, long brunette hair straight with graceful braids, with a look of concern and fierceness.
“Lord… Elrond?” the head of the guard stammered somewhat, not quite believing his eyes. Elrond only looked to the entire guard in silence while the others stood in shock. They had all heard of the great elf, yet had never seen him before; they had only heard of him from their fathers, most of whom had heard it only from their grandfathers.
With one final glare, the elf slowly drew in a deep breath.
“I have come to speak to your Steward. For the sake of his son.” Elrond received looks of confusion from the guards’ faces, and he knew he needed to explain further. His voice became more and more fierce with every sentence.
“You guard the citadel. Surely you have seen the Steward’s youngest son tormented and neglected, while his elder brother is treated with utmost respect and regard for his swordplay and battle skills. The youngest son is neglected and spat upon for being an archer, not a swordsman, a strategist instead of a fierce warrior.” The guard only listened as the elf paused, making his voice calm again.
“Young Faramir of Gondor will only wither if he stays here. I must speak with Denethor. I wish to make new living arrangements for the boy.”
The guards only stared for a moment, lost in thought, thinking of the Steward’s youngest son and pitying him. The boy had been beaten by his own father in front of their very eyes, physically and verbally. They wished to see no more.
“Come with me,” the head guard told the elf, who walked beside him. As they made their long way to the citadel, through the courtyard, the elf asked the guard many questions of the Steward’s son.
“What has become of him? You may remember the ranger named strider… he used to frequent this place. He recently told me of young Faramir’s troubles. How is he faring?”
“Just as badly as you said, my lord… his father refuses to give him anything, while his elder brother receives everything. It is.. ghastly to watch. But do not misunderstand his brother Boromir; he cares for his brother just as well as a parent, though he is only a few years older. He is old enough to understand his brother’s dilemmas.”
“At least he has had his brother,” Elrond said darkly. “But even his brother cannot protect him. Not with your steward’s increasing madness.” They both stopped talking once they reached the private chambers of the Steward; Denethor did not need to hear their speech. The Elf was left alone; Denethor had been notified of the guest’s arrival.
“Elrond of Rivendell,” Denethor said somewhat cheerily, though they both knew the kindness was false. “What brings you to the White City? We greet you happily.”
“I am not here to stay for any visit,” the elf said, cutting to the chase. “I am here to discuss your son.”
“Ah, Boromir! Why might you journey so far having to do with Boromir? It must be important.”
“My travels are important. But they’ve nothing to do with Boromir,” Elrond said firmly. His brow was becoming more furrowed by the second; Denethor’s followed suit.
“You cannot be here for Faramir’s purpose,” Denethor said cautiously, his voice becoming cold and dour. Elrond straightened up even taller than he already was and stated, “I am, my lord. I am here to relieve you of him.”
“Relieve me of Faramir? What does one of the finest elves in middle earth want of my son?” Denethor demanded, becoming suspicious. Elrond looked to him with disdain as he said, “I did not expect you to oppose my proposal. I had assumed that you would hand the boy over freely, as unfortunate as that may be.”
“And what is your proposal?”
“It is just as it sounds, my lord… I will relieve you of your youngest son. Faramir will journey back with me to Rivendell. I will take him under my wing, and off of your hands. You may well never have to see him again!” he feigned a tone of happiness and mocking toward the steward, whose eyes narrowed in further suspicion. Elrond walked toward him as he said these words, and Denethor backed away as though deeply threatened. There was a moment of silence while the steward plunked down in his chair and glowered, thinking deeply.
“Take him, then,” Denethor said coldly. “I would not care if I never saw him again… not until he can defend my country. Not until he can show some use.”
“I assure you, we can fulfill that wish for you. I am sure your son will be quite happy about your decision as well,” Elrond said swiftly, turning towards the door. His layers and layers of gossamer robes followed suit. “Tell me, where is Faramir?”
“In the archives. He studies there every evening after dinner, the stupid boy,” the steward nearly spat. Elrond could have gone off about how wise it was of the boy to be reading and studying the ancient texts he knew were kept there, but he knew that in present company such a fact would not be understood. He turned swiftly, so swiftly that his black velvet cloak nearly whipped the Steward in the face. “Farewell.”
“Farewell,” Denethor muttered in return, standing up slowly, still appearing to be lost in thought. But happiness glinted in his eyes. Elrond resisted the urge to pull his sword on the Steward, knowing that he would never get Faramir out if he did so. He must keep his eyes on his goal. He needed to get this boy to Rivendell.
He headed toward the archives, journeying down the levels on his white horse, taking care to remain uncloaked. If the boy happened to see him, he wished not to instill any fear in him. He had never met the boy before, and only approximately knew his age; Aragorn had guessed that he was about twelve years of age. He told the elf to look for a small, thin boy, underfed, with strawberry blonde hair and eyes as blue as his mother’s used to be. Elrond had known Faramir’s mother; she kept in contact with Elrond for several years about the goings-on of Minas Tirith while she had been alive.
He dismounted his horse at the entrance of the archives, and descended the steps. There was a faint glow of torches coming from one of the rooms, and he guessed that this was where young Faramir would be. Surely enough, as he rounded the corner, he found a small boy exactly as Aragorn described, hidden in a pile of papers and books, scribbling something on a piece of parchment with a quill. There was ink on his fingers, and smudges on the parchment he was writing on, but the young pupil was hard at work. He was already reading, and writing! This was amazing, something Men sometimes did not ever learn, but elves certainly did. Yes, this boy definitely belonged with all of the other younger elflings in Rivendell. He certainly belonged in the Last Homely House. Elrond found himself smiling a warm smile at the sight of the boy, thinking of how much he and the other elves could teach him.
The boy looked up only when Elrond cleared his throat slightly, and fully came through the doorway. Faramir jumped out of his chair, not knowing who he was seeing; it was a stranger, and he did not know if it was someone come to follow his father’s orders to beat him for spending too much time in the archives again. He backed up quickly until he banged into a large bookshelf. Elrond raised a hand in hopes to communicate that he was here peacefully, and that he was not going to bring the boy to harm, but it was obviously too late. A large book fell out of one of the shelves above his head from hitting the shelf so hard, and it hit him hard on the head. The elf stepped forward to grab the book, but the child was already down on the floor grabbing it. He held it close to himself, hugging it as if for comfort, and he stared at the elf in fear.
“I am not here to harm you,” Elrond said calmly, speaking in the softest voice he could muster – which for elves, meant speaking so softly that it could soothe almost anyone. There was a pause, and Elrond knew that the boy was looking at his headdress, his wardrobe, his elven robes… the elven sword in its curved scabbard. It may well have been the first elf that the boy had seen in real life.
“You are an elf,” Faramir finally squeaked. Elrond stifled his laughter, not wishing to be intimidating; he managed to only smile instead.
“I am indeed,” Elrond said. “Do you know who I am? I see you do much reading. Gandalf, Mithrandir, he visits you as well, I do believe. You may already know who I am, and only not know my face.”
“I – I do not know you. I am sorry.” He attempted to hide his face, but could not look away from the elegant first elf he had ever seen. Elrond stepped forward half a step, and said, “I am Elrond. Do you recognize that?”
“L-Lord Elrond… Lord Elrond…” The boy stammered, in shock. He did know who the elf was. He would have stepped back further in respect, if he had any more room and no bookshelves were behind him. “You – you live in… in… No! I just read it! I know it! I read it before…” he struggled to remember. The elf waited patiently, giving him a chance to remember.
“Rivendell! You live in Rivendell. Right?” he asked, almost fearfully, afraid of being wrong. The elf smiled and chuckled a bit, replying, “Yes, I reside in Rivendell. in the Last Homely House. I am here for one reason, young Faramir.” He leaned down to look the boy in the eyes, on an equal level. “I am here to take you with me. To Rivendell. I am here to take you away from this place, Faramir… in case you have not noticed, you do not belong here. Not now. Not when your father treats you with no respect.” The boy was frozen in silence, wondering how this elf knew so much, so accurately. He had never told anyone. The prospect of going to Rivendell had him frozen; he was afraid to hope for something so good happening.
“You try to do his will; I know you try to do your father’s will,” Elrond said gently. He placed a soft hand on the boy’s shoulder. “But, sometimes, we are not accepted… no matter what we do, we are sometimes never accepted.” He paused, for the boy had begun crying, silently but surely. Great big tears streamed down the young Gondorian’s face. With a look of concern on his face, Elrond knelt down on the ground, and held his arms open.
“Faramir.” Elrond bowed his head slightly. “Come here. Do not be afraid.” The boy slowly stepped forward, still crying, but attemped to hide his tears; he covered his face. The elf held the child tightly once he was near enough, and a few choked sobs broke the silence.
“You can cry,” Elrond said gently. “You are young… and you are so wearied and broken. I would never expect you not to cry. Do not hide it… and do not fear. in Rivendell, you will have no more need to cry. And we have such volumes of books and libraries as big as you can imagine,” he told the boy, trying to cheer him again. “And there are other elflings just your age… you would have others to frolic and have fun with. I swear it,” the elf soothed the boy. “I know what you have been through, at least to an extent, and I will not stand for it. Especially when both Mithrandir and Strider say that you are such a good archer.” With this statement, there was a twinkle in Elrond’s eye, and he pulled the boy from his shoulder to give him a slight wink. “Do you know how valuable archers are to the elves? Archery is prized in Rivendell, and Lórien, and any other place where the elves reside. It is our way.” At this, many of those crocodile tears disappeared; Faramir looked eager to show his skills.
Once Faramir calmed down a little bit, he began to get a feeling of hope deep down inside. He had a feeling something was going to happen. It still seemed like too good of a thing to be true; and yet at the same time, it was heartbreaking. He was going to have to leave his brother behind. He knew that Boromir was well cared for, but still… it was not easy to leave one’s brother behind. Not one who had cared so much for him, one who always looked after him… It would be like leaving safety, although Elrond was not at all threatening. And the land of Rivendell… he hadn’t read much about it, but it sounded like a beautiful place. Where archers were important, and reading… yes, this sounded like a good idea. To leave such an opportunity behind would be the worst mistake he could ever make.
“… Now.” Elrond let the boy stand on his own as he stood up again. “We must ready you for the journey. Rivendell is five days from here, if we ride at a steady pace. Tell me, do you have a horse? Do you ride?”
“I do, and yes,” the boy replied quickly. “My father was kind enough to give me a horse, he said for the future, when I actually did anything for him.” Elrond struggled to hide the sour feeling he had in his heart for Denethor, who had uttered such words to his youngest child. Elrond explained to Faramir, “We shall take your horse, and ride… more of my kind will meet us halfway. Go now and pack your things, but you only have to bring what you want to bring; we will have clothes ready for you in Rivendell. Gather your valuable things.”
Half an hour later, Elrond waited in the hall of the citadel; he spoke with Boromir, who heard from his father what was going on. Boromir, seventeen years of age, spoke seriously with Elrond.
“You will keep under great care, won’t you? You will do what I cannot?” Boromir asked the elf, who nodded gravely. Boromir sighed a deep sigh, nodding. “It must be done, then. He will be much happier with you.”
“Faramir will miss you, Boromir. When winter arrives, I will summon you to come and visit Rivendell. I am glad you are able to dwell here happily, getting what you deserve, but your dear brother deserves just as much goodness, as you understand. This will be a good thing for him.”
“Indeed,” Boromir said. “I shall see him in winter. It is spring now… The summer and fall will pass quickly enough. I will travel then… as for you two – travel safely. Our men will be on the watch for as far out as they reach. And, Lord Elrond…” Boromir bowed. “Thank you for caring for my dear brother. We could not have asked for anyone better.”
“It is my pleasure,” Elrond said lightly. “When you see him again, he will be a healthy and hopefully thriving boy. He will have access to everything he desires, and it will be good.”
“Here he is,” Boromir said, as they both heard a noise from the direction of the private chambers. Young Faramir came around the corner, holding a leather satchel that was full, but not overfull.
“Have you got your favorite books, Faramir?” Boromir asked cheerily; his brother smiled and nodded, looking slightly nervous. Elrond smiled inwardly, noticing how wonderful their relationship was.
“And how about your notebook? Have you got that?”
“Yes, Boromir, I’ve got it.”
“You wouldn’t leave that behind, now, would you?”
“Never.”
“I’ve gotten your horse Elsing ready for you; I hope you have a safe journey. With Lord Elrond, you definitely will.”
“We shall,” Elrond said confidently. Though orcs sometimes swarmed across the lands, he had no fear of it right now; he would put them in their place, along with Gondorian soldiers and Lórien elves, if there was any need for action. He assumed that there would be no need at all.
“Good-by, little brother,” Boromir said more softly now, more tenderly. They hugged strongly, but Boromir was careful not to crush his brother. He helped him onto his horse, as Elrond mounted his own.
“Farewell, Boromir. If your father sways to madness in regards to you, you are fully welcome in Rivendell. Just come to me,” Elrond said. Boromir nodded, but shook his head, signaling that he would be just fine in Gondor. As the next Steward, he belonged there, and his father made sure to tell him so. He was happy in Gondor, just as both sons should rightfully have been. Faramir had better chance of happiness in Rivendell, though, so it was fate for the two brothers to be split. Perhaps Faramir should have been born an elf after all.
The journey took five days, with stops and rests in between for Faramir to get some rest; Elrond lay on the ground, fully connected with the nature around him, staring up at the trees and smelling the fresh grass below him in the field that they were lying in. He looked up to the moon and the stars, and wondered if Faramir had learned everything there was to know about the stars and moon and beautiful things hanging in the sky. Perhaps Arwen or his sons would teach him, or perhaps he himself. He wondered what other things the boy knew. After all, he figured out rather quickly who he was… he had been somewhat surprised.
When they reached the halfway point, they met up with seven other Elves, one of them being the skilled elf Legolas. Elrond knew him personally, and had requested he come with them to escort the boy into Rivendell.
The journey only took a day after that; this was because instead of stops for Faramir to rest, Faramir climbed upon Elrond’s horse, in front of the elf, and fell asleep sitting up. Another elf rode his horse, and the elven horse of the elf’s own ran its way toward Rivendell. It did not need its master to know the way back home.
They approached Rivendell just after dawn; Faramir, who had been sleeping in Elrond’s protection, felt someone shake his shoulder.
“Welcome to your new home,” Elrond told Faramir, who looked up and gasped. His reaction made Elrond smile; he knew that Faramir could not even believe his eyes, no matter how much he may or may not have read about the city.
“It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” Faramir finally managed to gasp to the elf. “It is… it is indescribably beautiful. It is so beautiful.” He looked up at the waterfalls, at the large roomy elven houses at the top of the hills, backed by gorgeous mountains and waterfalls. A great deep valley lay below, which held a river; it was the most beautiful of rivers, with soft bends and gently flowing waters, more exciting at some areas than others. There was definitely something about this place, something warm and lovely about it; and it was Faramir’s new home. He still could not believe his own eyes. And instead of worrying, for once he began thinking lovely childish thoughts; what were his new chambers going to look like? What was his home like? Would he be living with Lord Elrond, or with someone else? Were there any dragons here to slay? … It didn’t look it, but that did not matter. There seemed to be many good places to play and pretend battle. And then, as they rode closer, he snapped out of his thoughts and focused on the elves.
The beautiful elves… they were wearing robes of all colors, and they were all watching him ride in with Elrond. They all bowed slightly when the horse passed; they were bowing to Elrond. It was not a bow as if he were royalty, but a bow simply in respect. For this was the elf who helped them and cared for them, who was by far the oldest, and was their leader; that is what all of Faramir’s books had said. It was a large thing to be a leader of elves; for to be a leader of elves, you had to be significantly more wise than all of the others, and yet you could not be stuffy about being wiser. It was a very precarious situation, but Elrond had been in power for such a long time, and seen the first war of the ring, and had spoken to Isildur. None of these other elves had such skills in strategy and in battle both. They were old, but they were younger than Elrond. And he swore to protect them all, leading them to victory in battle. All was well in Rivendell. He was maker and protector of the city.
At the top of one of the hills, backed by the most glorious of rocky mountains, there was a gorgeous house. It was larger than the others, and even though all of the dwellings were beautiful, this one was surrounded by the most lovely of landscapes and intricate of interlacing patterns. One could not hardly tell where the surrounding trees ended and the architecture began. The roof consisted of many skylights, beautiful curving skylights which allowed the sun to shine in and the stars to glint through in the nighttime.
“Is this…” Faramir started to ask, but his answer became clear before he could finish his question and Elrond could begin to answer. The other elves split off on their horses; Faramir’s horse was being taken by one elf into the stables.
“Is this your home?” Faramir finally managed to ask, just to be certain. Elrond led their horse under a delicately built bridge and up a sloping cobbled road, and he replied, “Indeed, it is. And it will be your home, too; it will feel like it in time.”
“So… I AM going to be living with you!” Faramir cried out, trying not to seem too overly happy. The elf could sense this joy, and a hint of kind laughter could be heard in Faramir’s left ear as they rounded a corner, leading them closer to the house. “You certainly will be, young one… I told your father, Lord Denethor, that I was taking you under my wing. And take you under my wing, I shall… for as long as you shall allow me.” Faramir did not know what to say to this; the sheer thought that this mighty elf was taking him “under his wing” was almost too much for his heart to take after a life full of expected misfortune and neglecting. It was a total reversal of what he saw the rest of his life playing out to be. But there was no more time to dwell on these thoughts yet; Elrond called out a command in elvish to the white horse beneath them, and Faramir noted that the language really did sound like ringing bells, joyful bells, just as Mithrandir had once told him. The horse followed Elrond’s command, or what Faramir assumed was Elrond’s command; he did not know the language of the elves, which he assumed would pose a major problem here. The horse slowed to a stop on some smoother marble-looking ground; Elrond paused to allow Faramir time to dismount, and the elf followed, his robes making a soft thud as they hit the ground. The volume of elven robes was large; such velvets and satins must be heavy, or so Faramir assumed. Elrond created a wind about them both when he walked, for the robes flowed and curled the air around the slight train so swiftly as he walked.
“Welcome to the Last Homely House, Faramir,” Elrond said, as two elves opened glorious autumn-coloured doors for them to enter. “Your new home.” When Faramir couldn’t help but hesitate just before the entrance to the door, Elrond halted also, standing behind the young boy. He slowly laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder, giving him reassurance. They slowly set foot inside.
The interior was breathtakingly beautiful; it was nothing like his old home, in the citadel, though that was beautiful as well in its own way. Cold, but beautiful. This place was warm, earthly, full of wonder… full of beauty. There was so much to see. Faramir could not possibly absorb everything that he was seeing all at one time. He gasped time and time again, as the elf silently led him around the main living areas, through the dining hall, through the long winding hallways filled with paintings and branches interwoven into the pillars standing in the middle of the large hallways. The floors were made of marble, in intricate patterns, but the floors were not cold; they were surprisingly warm. Faramir wondered if they were kept warm because some of the elves wandered throughout places with no shoes on their feet. Several serving elves walked past them, bowing slightly to the housemaster as they passed, none of which were wearing boots. Their feet were bare; it was another indicator of how connected they were with nature. Faramir suddenly felt silly for wearing his boots on his feet.
By the time Faramir was finished with his tour, he was led to some chambers. Elrond led him halfway down one hall before stopping. Faramir turned to look at the great elf, wondering why they had stopped. Elrond extended a hand toward the doorway.
“These are your chambers, Faramir,” Elrond said. “Welcome home, once again. I trust that you will be comfortable here; all of your belongings are already inside, and my assistant should have already drawn a hot bath for you. It will feel quite comfortable after your long journey.” Faramir started to get misty eyes again, having never been cared for like this before. Elrond understood, and gave the boy another rare smile. He leaned down and kissed the young human on the forehead.
“Sleep well, little one. Rest. And I will see you in the morning.” And with that, Elrond turned and went back in the direction from which they’d come.
Author note: Finally, one year later, I’m updating this story! It’s been WAY too long! I will be doing several updates on it, now that it’s winter vacation – woohoo! For anybody who actually read the first chapter a year ago, thanks for coming back. :) I won’t disappoint like that again. Please, everyone, give me reviews and tell me what you think; this chapter may seem a bit slow, but I have a lot of ideas for this story.
Chapter Two
Due to being utterly exhausted from the journey, Faramir fell asleep in the bed in his bedchambers only moments after Elrond had bid him a good evening, pulled the large burgundy gauze curtains covering the room’s entryway shut, and closed the delicate wooden carved door. When he awoke some time later, however, he was shocked for a moment before remembering, once again, that he was in Rivendell. He struggled for a moment between realizing whether or not he was dreaming of being in Rivendell, but reality soon gripped him. Jumping out of bed with joy, he looked around, wondering what time it was. There was light streaming through the large windows on one of the far walls of the room, but the windows were covered with more gauzy, light-colored fabric. He ripped them open to see nothing but grandness.
From the vantage point of Elrond’s Last Homely House, most of Rivendell was visible down below. He could hardly believe his eyes. He could see elves in the distance, their beautifully woven clothing shimmering in the early morning sunshine that was drifting through some of the lazy tree branches. From the level of the sun in the sky, Faramir guessed that it was some time around 8 in the morning. The warm golden sunshine felt so wonderful upon his face, so kind and inviting. He smelled sweet flowers in the air, and was tempted to run about outside. He then realized that there was a balcony connected to his chambers, and he went through the connecting entryway onto his personal balcony. If the view from inside through his window was not beautiful enough, it could not match this. Now he could hear the rushing of the tall waterfalls far off in the distance, and he could hear some hustle and bustle on the floor just below him. He peered over the edge of the balcony to see that the main common areas of the House were below him. Somehow he had ended up on the second floor of the House, even though they had climbed no stairs. The elves built their architecture to blend in so well with nature that the floors curved downward and upward naturally, like a rolling hill.
After absorbing all of the scenery for another moment, he collected his thoughts. Surely, by this time of the morning, Elrond was already awake. He should probably get properly dressed. He went back into his chambers and found his leather satchel, which was already sitting on a chair awaiting him. He knew he had packed his best clothes in there, alone with his few books, notebook, and a few other possessions he managed to obtain over his young years. Pulling a fresh tunic and pair of leggings out of the leather bag, he dressed quickly, eager to go downstairs. He felt nervous about all of the new experiences which lay before him, but he was also feeling brave – at least, for the moment.
Suddenly, he felt a lurch in his stomach as his nerves began to set in just a little bit. Would Lord Elrond be as stern as his father usually was whenever he, Faramir, was shy in certain situations, or hesitant in other situations? Would Elrond be as angry as his father almost always was? He felt a tightness in his throat, but he remembered Elrond’s soothing words during their journey to Rivendell, and managed to comfort himself a little bit. He finished pulling on his tunic, laced up his boots, checked his appearance in the mirror just once, then headed out the door. Once outside the door, however, he ran into another problem: Finding someone to tell him where Elrond was. He felt quite alone even in the presence of several elves, who were walking past him. The only two people he had grown acquainted with were Elrond, and Legolas, both incredibly well-known elves. But he didn’t have much more time to think, for an elf he did not recognize was walking towards him, making eye contact.
“Faramir. Good morning.” The elf bowed slightly, and Faramir did the same, not wanting to appear rude. “Lord Elrond had expected you to be awake by about now. Did you rest well?”
“Yes, I slept very well.”
“That is good news. We only want you to be comfortable here, especially until you get the lay of the land.” The elf turned around and began to walk in the same direction in which he came, gesturing for Faramir to come with him. Of course, Faramir joined him by his side. The elf walked quickly and smoothly down the hallways of the House, and Faramir tried not to look like he was struggling to keep up with the long strides of the elf.
“I am taking you to the kitchens, to enjoy breakfast with Lord Elrond. He wishes to dine with you this morning, especially. He said that he asked your brother what your favorite breakfast dish was before they left. He had it especially made for you, this morning.” Faramir felt an immediate joy dancing in his heart for the elf lord, who had given so much thought to making him comfortable on his first day in the Homely House.
“That was nice of him,” was all he managed to say. He hoped he did not sound ungrateful. They reached the kitchens a moment later.
It was a large space, like everywhere else in the house. The dining table was made of wood, with beautiful shapes carved into the edges. The table almost looked like it was growing out of the ground, as if a branch of of the nearby trees had burst through the stone flooring and sprouted into the large, thick tabletop that existed there. Around the corner came the smells of many different foods cooking, but Faramir could smell his breakfast already – ham and eggs, preferably mixed together with other vegetables. There was nothing Faramir loved more for breakfast. But what he noticed the most was that the elf lord was sitting at the table, sipping something steaming hot out of a cup and reading some sort of report. It appeared that he was doing work. However, he set it aside as soon as he saw Faramir standing hesitantly in the entrance to the room.
“Good morning, Faramir,” Elrond said simply.
“Good morning,” was all the boy replied. He still felt a sense of astonishment every time he saw Elrond, even through their five day long journey. However, Elrond raised a hand to gesture him over, and pulled out one of the chairs for him to sit down in. The food was now being brought to the table. Elrond had wanted Faramir’s favorite breakfast meal prepared, since the boy looked so frail and weak, undernourished. It concerned him. If he was to grow strong, which he was certain the boy was capable of, he would need to be well fed to do so.
“Eat,” was all Elrond said. “You must be hungry. You are welcome to as much as you would like, as always.” He smiled to Faramir, which made the boy feel much more at ease. Realizing that he was indeed very hungry, he dug into his breakfast quickly. Elrond watched he boy as he ate, glad to see that he had an appetite. He collected his thoughts for a moment before telling him, “Faramir, today I would like you to become more familiar with a few of my friends, and some guests from other lands who have come to stay for a short time. You will know them soon anyway, and they may be people whom you have already read about in some texts. We will all be gathering for a large evening meal tonight, and you will have a chance to meet everyone. Mithrandir is arriving next week, as well.”
Faramir dropped his fork in surprise. Embarrassed, he picked it up, but he was still shocked and asked, “Mithrandir? Gandalf is going to be here?” His eyes were lighting up with excitement.
“Yes, indeed, he is.” Elrond smiled at the boy’s excitement. “I knew you would enjoy that. You two will have to catch up, I hear it has been some months since you have last seen each other. He planned to visit Rivendell before now, but I informed him that you may possibly arriving here a while later. He decided to wait.” Faramir was, again, surprised at all of the consideration Elrond and Mithrandir gave him. It was so much to get used to, after being treated poorly his entire life. Elrond knew that this was very different for Faramir, but knew he would adjust to it well in time.
“Also, Faramir, the elf that led you here to the kitchens is Erestor. He is my chief counselor here in Rivendell, and one of my dear friends. He takes over the care of the house whenever I am away, and he will surely become a friend to you. Everyone in this house is a friend, and I hope you will learn to trust me when I say that. I, of all of us, want you to be comfortable here – and I am certain you will be.” Faramir was quiet, not knowing what to say. Elrond knew that the boy was uncomfortable; he was excellent at detecting the emotions of others, so he tried to think of a way to soothe his newest guest. He quickly thought back to when Aragorn was just a child, and what he did to soothe him or make him feel more comfortable in certain situations. He decided that the best thing to do was stimulate young Faramir’s mind, since he was such an intelligent child.
“You will be doing many interesting things today, Faramir. While I tend to some more business matters, you will be taken on a tour of the entire House, as well as meeting more of the guests that are here. And though you have only just arrived, I want to get you started on your formal education here, so you will meet your instructors.” Elrond felt so warm inside when Faramir’s eyes lit up at the idea of schooling; Faramir might as well be a young elfling of his own. “You will be working here in the house with your own tutor, of course, but you will also be working in one of Rivendell’s finest archives and libraries, with some other elflings that are being educated as well. Reading and writing will be some of your priorities, but most days they will teach you how to use hunting knives and of course, the bow. But I hear that you are quite the good archer already, is that true?” Faramir couldn’t believe that Elrond was interested in him, and asking questions about his archery skills.
“I can hit a target,” was all the boy said in response, though.
“That is excellent, very good work for someone your age. Did you train yourself?”
“No, my brother taught me. But I’ve practiced on my own for a few years.”
“It was good of your brother to show you something other than swordplay – otherwise you would have never found your true skill.”
“Yes… but father things that Boromir cursed me by showing me the bow, that I would have become much more skilled with the sword.”
“It does not matter anyway; you are one who can be skilled at both the bow and the sword, but I do hope you are more skilled with the bow.” Elrond wanted to reassure him, and keep him focused on learning to use the bow. He could see him being a great hunter. He mused over the idea of Faramir returning to Gondor, to his father, after years of training and becoming a full grown man. The elf chuckled to himself, thinking of the look of utter shock and loathing that might cross the Steward’s face if he saw the greatness of his strong, bow-wielding, strategic genius of a son.
“Along with those activities, I would also like to have you visit our best cloak makers today. I do not mean to be critical, but you do need more clothes. And I do believe some new pairs of good boots are in order.” Faramir nodded, glad to know that Elrond had realized he only had three different tunics and breeches in his leather satchel back in his bedroom, and that his one and only pair of boots were muddied up. They were also getting to small for him, since his feet had grown since he had gotten them.
“And this evening, we shall all dine together in the dining hall, and there will be a small musical performance, if you are interested. The elves, as you might know, adore their music. Do you play, Faramir?”
“Music? No, but I have studied how the notes are written,” Faramir replied, as if hoping that that would be enough to impress him. Elrond smiled. Of course he studied musical composition. How many years of his life has he spent in those archives? “You know a lot for your age,” Elrond said. Faramir felt humbled; Elrond was a great elf lord, and yet he took the time to say that Faramir was knowledgeable.
They finished their breakfast in a peaceful silence, with both of them tending to their own thoughts. Elrond thinking of the patients he would be helping to heal and the other matters he had to discuss with his fellow counselors; his brow furrowed as he thought. Faramir watched his new friend’s very furrowed brow while he tried to deal with the butterflies in his stomach about the day’s events. Hopefully all would turn out well.
Faramir adored Rivendell. By the time he had finished his tour, met his new school instructors, and visited the tailors, he had a good idea of the atmosphere of the land – and it was just as he had imagined. The text had not lied about the elves’ beautiful architecture, or the power that Elrond wielded over the waters surrounding the land with the power of the Vilya ring. There had been several times when he was so overtaken by the beauty of it all that he had to be guided by Erestor in the proper direction for their next destination.
Erestor was a kind elf, more gentle than Elrond, but that did not mean that Elrond was not kind. Erestor seemed to emanate a gentle reassurance which soothed Faramir’s butterflies, and made him feel entirely welcome and comfortable. He led Faramir about to his activities and kept a lively chatter, but he moved with grace and confidence. Faramir only wished he could be so confident. What makes the elves so confident? Is it their age, or the fact that they are elves? Faramir did not know the answer, but he continued to ponder the question. All of the elves were so calm. Had they simply seen everything that could cause them stress? Was that why they were so calm?
When he was with one of the tailors, he watched how the elf moved his fingers so nimbly with the measuring tape to record the length of his arms, legs, and torso. Faramir could hardly keep up with what the elf was doing, but he did not mind. It was simply one example of how quickly they could work. If I am under Elrond’s wing, will I somehow become at least somewhat as skilled as the rest of the elves? It was something he wished for; he longed to fit in with their behavior. It was so beautiful. Men were clumsy, imperfect.
Faramir was finished with his activities by late afternoon, at which time Erestor led him back to the house. He was glad to be coming home, and the sight of the Last Homely House on the top of one of the gently rolling hills was already peaceful to him. It was already starting to become home, in its own way. The windows were emanating a warm light, and he wondered how long the fires had been lit and if the musicians had begun their playing yet. He wondered when dinner was; his stomach growled as he thought.
He heard a soft chuckle from Erestor, who was walking next to him. It was marvelous, how much their laughs actually sounded like little ringing bells. Faramir looked up to him, wondering if he had actually heard…
“The evening meal will be prepared for us in one hour,” Erestor said, suppressing a little smirk. So he did hear that, Faramir thought, clutching his stomach a bit. It was somewhat embarrassing. Do elves’ stomachs ever growl? He had questions, too many questions! At least I won’t bother Elrond with so many questions – father would have never stood for me asking so many questions anyway. Besides, questions are for the libraries. However, he highly doubted that he would be able to find texts that specifically stated whether or not elves’ stomachs growled like that of Men.
By the time he had finished pondering this, they had reached the top of that rolling hill, and they were heading into the house. He heard lively talking and elves were bustling about, probably preparing for the night’s dinner and musical festivities. He could faintly smell the scent of a very delicious stew that was brewing in the kitchens, and he heard elvish singing very faintly in the background. It was definitely a beautiful sound.
“Faramir,” came the voice of the one he was getting to know so well. Elrond was drifting down a set of stairs from another floor of the house that Faramir had not yet been on. He was dressed in a set of fancier evening robes, a deep burgundy velvet cloak with a silver and copper tunic beneath. It was amazing how an elf of so many thousands of years of age could still look so young, and could still be so graceful. He had seen more than Faramir ever would, and that was definitely a humbling thought. Faramir would have loved to just have one look into the mind of Elrond, just to see how much knowledge was actually stored in there.
“Good evening,” Faramir replied, bowing his head slightly. Elrond smiled and bowed also before asking, “Did you enjoy your first day?”
“I did,” Faramir answered quickly, nodding eagerly. Elrond smiled again and replied, “I am glad to hear that, young one. . . Rivendell always holds something special for every person who takes in its beauty. I know that you only visited the tailor early this afternoon, but one of your new wardrobes has already arrived; an assistant told me of it earlier this afternoon. I would like you to wear it tonight, with you willing of course, just so that we can observe what those robes look like on you. It is a traditional styled elvish robes, which are usually worn by younger elflings just your age. I believe you will enjoy them, I instructed them in advance on what colors to incorporate into your traditional robes.” Faramir was intrigued by this color information, and he was certainly excited – not to mention shocked – that his first set of robes had arrived already. “I will wear them tonight,” he promised.
“Thank you, Faramir. I must check on another patient for now, but you will be sitting with me and Erestor tonight at our small dinner party and music event, so I shall see you then.” Elrond started to turn away, but then stopped again to look at the boy. “Oh, and Faramir?”
“Yes, my lord?”
“Let Erestor help you put your robes on for the first time. I only say that because some of the materials they are made of can tear easily, and it is your first time putting them on. Allow him to show you how to put them on. He has shown many elflings before you.”
“As you wish, my lord,” Faramir bowed. Elrond furrowed his brow only slightly before lightening up, saying, “Faramir?”
“Yes?”
“Just call me Elrond.”
“Yes… Elrond.” Faramir noticed that the word felt funny coming out of his mouth, but if that was what he wished to be called, then that was what he would call him. The smile on the elf lord’s face was proof to him that it was okay to call him that. He smiled. “I will see you in a while.”
“Very well, then,” Elrond responded, moving away down one of the halls toward his sick patient. Erestor, who had been standing back to allow Faramir and Elrond some privacy during their conversation, now stepped up next to Faramir.
“Shall we get you dressed?” he asked. Faramir looked up at him and nodded, only thinking, As long as there aren’t too many laces, and as long as I don’t tear anything… Everything was certainly taking some getting used to.
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!
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.
Chapter Four
Author note: Happy New Year! Thanks for reading my latest update – I always appreciate readers and reviews. :) This chapter was the hardest for me to write, and I hit a lot of writer’s block while doing it – put I needed to get this out in order to get to the good stuff that’s coming in the next few chapters. Please hang in there with me. :) More (better!) stuff to come!
As springtime merged to summer, the trees of Rivendell turned beautifully green. Faramir’s first few months in Rivendell were filled with new experiences, all of which were interesting, entertaining, or – best of all – educational. Whatever new adventures lay ahead of him, he became more and more prepared to take them on. Because he was officially being healed by Elrond for his thin weight, the elf had decided to educate him while he was in his care; the boy often took lessons with the elf lord, who taught him more elvish grammar as well as arithmetic and writing. Faramir took to all of these subjects well, although he enjoyed learning the history of the elves the most. These history lessons were unique: Faramir and Elrond usually sat in Elrond’s study with cups of tea, while the elf spoke of everything he had seen in his life. 3,000 years worth of history, more or less, was plenty for Faramir to learn. He was particularly intrigued with learning of the first Great War, the war of the ring. When Elrond spoke of Mordor’s forces once again stirring even at that present moment, Faramir grew concerned. He knew that war was brewing, but felt helpless to do anything about it. He mentioned this to Elrond.
“I think you have nothing to fear, young one – you are the Steward’s son, and you are bound to be a good warrior. You already show great skill with the bow, although I do hope that you will begin learning how to wield a sword, like Men usually do. You must learn your own heritage’s skills.” But at the mentioning of the his father the Steward, Faramir had lowered his eyes, sinking a bit in his seat. The happiness in his face had been wiped away, and replaced with a forlorn expression that Elrond did not like.
“I apologize, Faramir; I did not intend to upset you, I hope and trust that you know that.”
“I know it – but it still makes me sad.”
“As I am sure it does.” Elrond poured more tea for the both of them, deciding that now was a good time to take a break from their lesson. He knew that he had healing to do for Faramir in this way, also – not only was Faramir physically weakened, he was emotionally weakened as well. The boy seemed up to talking about the subject, so the other school lessons would have to wait for another day. “Do you miss being at home in Gondor, Faramir?”
“Rivendell is starting to feel like my home,” Faramir said, the words coming out of his mouth before he even really knew what he was saying. He seemed shocked at his own answer.
“And is that all right with you?” Elrond probed, genuinely curious.
“I love Rivendell. It is very beautiful, and there are so many libraries, and of course, I am with such nice people.” Faramir paused, and the tension in the air told Elrond that he had something more to say. Surely enough, it came through.
“…I do miss the White City. I miss Minas Tirith. I miss Boromir. I miss visiting with the rangers of Ithilien, and I even…” He hesitated, looking uncertain about what he was planning on saying next. “Go on, little one,” Elrond gently urged him on.
“Well – I think I even miss my father.” Faramir averted his eyes for a moment, looking ashamed, before glancing back to Elrond to see if he was angry. Of course, the elf was not; Elrond was glad that his youngest guest was being so honest. It was something he so rarely found in Men. “It would be perfectly natural for you to miss you father even after everything you two have been through,” Elrond said. “He is your father, and you are his son, and there are some bonds that simply cannot be broken. Family ties are one of those strong bonds.” Faramir simply sat there, looking absorbed in his own thoughts. Elrond considered his next question before asking it aloud, figuring it was okay.
“Do you remember your father before your mother died, Faramir?” This question snapped Faramir out of his thoughts, and he also considered his words before speaking them.
“I do but only very vaguely, I was so young,” Faramir replied simply. But there was a tone to his voice that informed Elrond that he did not want to speak about it. The elf pressed on anyway, to see where the conversation led.
“Your father loved you very much, Faramir. I do believe that he still loves you, but is so stricken with grief that he cannot show any love. You remind him far too much of his wife, your dear mother. You are so much like Finduilas.”
“You knew my mother?” Faramir looked up in curiosity. The elf nodded, saying, “I did. She died at such a young age. She was kind, but sad… much like you. She was very gentle, quite beautiful, and very gifted and talented at many things. She, too, loved and desired knowledge. She spent most of her time with you, since Boromir was so tended to by your father. She worried that you would feel neglected, so she spent far more time with you. I only knew her after she grew weak, though; your father had asked me to come and visit her, and attempt to figure out what ailed her. She was inexplicably weak.” Elrond also seemed to be lost in thought now. “She was supposed to live far longer than she did, and there was nothing I could do.”
“I am sure you did all you could,” Faramir said, his voice soft, leaning forward to place his hand on the elf’s. Elrond realized that the boy was trying to make him feel better.
“You are so kind-hearted, Faramir, even after all you have been through. That is most impressive. It is a wonderful and rare quality.” Then Elrond noticed that the boy’s eyes were watering up, and he was sniffling a bit. Elrond handed him a soft cloth that was on his desk, saying, “I am sorry to have upset you, little one. Did you never hear what your mother was like?”
“Nobody who knew her was ever really allowed to tell me about her, since father does not permit anyone to speak of her,” Faramir sniffed. He wiped his face with the cloth. “The only person who told me anything about her was Faramir, and he only mentioned that she was beautiful, and that she loved me. Now it is no wonder that my father cannot stand me… He does not permit anyone to talk about mother, but I am a glaring impersonation of her, every day.” As Faramir came to this realization, he started to tremble. Elrond embraced the boy, holding him tightly.
“Your father has made countless mistakes with you, Faramir, all of which he will eventually regret. And while you are much like your mother, your father should realize that you are indeed another person – you are unique, and everyone – including him – should be impressed by who you are. I will forever see you as your own person, because you are unique like the rest of us.”
Within the first month of his arrival to his new home, Faramir had finally gotten to meet and spend time with Lady Arwen. Her grace and beauty were altogether fascinating to him; everything about her was intriguing to him, from the color of her eyes to her laugh, even to the way she breathed. Arwen was also incredibly wise, which made her all the more endearing to him. To any question he asked, she had a satisfying answer. He was profoundly fascinated and inspired by Arwen when she showed him her beautiful sword, and she spoke briefly of the times in which she had to use it. She allowed him to hold the blade. She so inspired him to become a strong warrior. If she could be such a heroine and elven fighter in desperate times, surely he could do the same. Perhaps one day, he could even impress her. The thought made him positively giddy.
Although Faramir knew that Arwen only had these same strange feelings for Aragorn, he could not help but adore her. He sometimes wondered if she knew that he adored her, and he suspected she did. But even if she knew, Arwen was kind enough not to confront him about it, or even acknowledge it. She did seem to enjoy his friendship, though, and enjoyed having conversations with him during the lazy days in the House.
Faramir always grew ashamed when Elrond saw him with his beautiful daughter, however, and Elrond noticed that the boy would often get up and escape as quickly as possible from Arwen whenever he was present. Elrond knew that this would not do, this discomfort. Elrond pulled him gently aside one afternoon into a room with some privacy, when Faramir had escaped Arwen once again while he had been in their presence.
“Faramir, you do not have to run away every time I see you and Arwen together,” Elrond stated. “Why do you do this?” Even though the elf knew full well that the boy was embarrassed about showing him that he was attracted to his own daughter, he knew that this information had to get out in the open in order to make Faramir feel more comfortable in the house. The best way to do this was to ask the other person and feign innocence, and allow the other individual to come up with all of the answers themselves, rather than telling them the answers. Faramir struggled to answer the question, even though he knew the exact reasons for his own behavior. He looked to his feet and shuffled them uneasily on the floor, not wanting to say a word. However, Elrond just waited, so he finally said something.
“I don’t want you to see me with her.”
“Why, little one? It looked as though the two of you were having a good time with each other. You were only talking, what is the harm in that?” Faramir shuffled his feet again, gulping. Elrond felt badly, but knew that this had to be done. How else would Faramir get more comfortable with this new part of himself, his feelings of adoration and love?
“We were having a good time,” he said slowly, affirming Elrond’s statement.
“What was the trouble then, little one? Do I interrupt you two?” Elrond probed.
“No!… I just – I don’t know,” Faramir rushed, becoming anxious. He saw Elrond’s waiting glance and rushed out “I fancy her.” Elrond smiled. Ah, he thought, Now we are getting somewhere. “I know you fancy her, Faramir,” Elrond said. “We talked about this a few months previously, I am sure you remember.” Faramir nodded. “Then what is the matter, little one? I already know that you fancy her, and I do not mind. You do not have to hide it from me, I already know you fancy her. It is perfectly natural for you to want to spend time with her, and I encourage it.” Faramir was shocked by the last statement. He had to inquire, or it would drive him slowly insane. “Why? Why encourage it?” he asked. Elrond first sat the two of them down on a nearby bench in a quiet corner of the room, before answering in a gentle voice.
“Faramir, it is most important for you to grow used to your own feelings. As you grow, you will experience many different emotions and think many different thoughts. These next few years will be filled with turmoil, but everyone must go through with them. I am truly sorry if I am making you uncomfortable you by discussing this openly, but I think it will help you in the end. It helped Aragorn, and Legolas, my twin sons, and it helps many other elflings, so I expect that for you it will be no different. It even helped Arwen, when she was young.” He paused, giving the young one a moment to process this information. “Try not to be embarrassed, even though you may feel confused. Simply enjoy your time with my Arwen, and try not to worry about things too much. It is not good for your health.”
While Faramir was still in Elrond’s healing care, Elrond would come into his chambers periodically throughout the day and night to be sure that all was well with his youngest patient. Faramir seemed to be healing quite nicely over the next couple of months, during the summer, when the weather was warm and mild and Faramir was able to eat more good meals and build up his strength a bit more. Just as Elrond had said before, he was beginning to shoot up in height like a sprout in springtime. Faramir grew several inches over the course of the summer.
“Bless the Valar, Faramir, you may very well become taller than me,” Elrond said one morning, when he was giving the boy his check-up. Faramir seriously doubted the elf’s words; Elrond was quite tall, and he himself quite short. Still, though, he felt good about growing taller. He also found that his arms were growing longer, and Elrond ended up giving him a new bow for his archery practice. “This little one will have to be given to another elfling, for you are now too big,” the healer had said with a smile. He was quite obviously proud of Faramir, far more proud of him than Denethor ever had been.
One summer day, however, when Elrond had been busy throughout the day with healing other patients and attending meetings, he did not notice until the evening meal had come that he had not glimpsed his youngest house member all day. Elrond asked Erestor about the boy’s whereabouts, but Erestor also admitted that he had not seen the boy all day, especially since it was not a school day.
“Perhaps he was in the library?” Elrond said to Erestor as they ate.
“I do not believe so, my lord… I was in there today, several times, looking up some information. Young Faramir was not there at any of those times.” When Elrond received that bit of information, he finished his meal rather quickly and decided to investigate whether or not Faramir was in his quarters. The boy’s absence concerned him, although Rivendell was safe enough for Faramir to be anywhere. It was simply the lack of the boy’s presence that made him concerned. Elrond had never fully lost track of an elfling, not even the adventurous Arwen or her twin brothers when they were but young elflings, so he was certain he would find the boy.
Elrond knocked upon Faramir’s chamber door, softly at first, then knocking a little bit louder. There was no response. “Faramir?” No response. The elf knocked again and called his name once more before opening the door a crack, peering inside, his eyebrows furrowed in sincere concern. He felt relieved, however, when he saw Faramir in the far corner of the room, hiding somewhat behind the bed and some of the gauze curtains. Those blue eyes, however, looked at him from across the room. The expression on the boy’s face looked somewhere between startled and guilty. The elf stepped into the room, closing the door behind himself.
“Faramir? Have you been in here all day?” he asked. Faramir nodded, but remained silent. Elrond took a few steps closer to the boy, assessing the situation.
“Is something wrong?” the elf asked. “Are you feeling ill?” Again the boy nodded. “What’s wrong, Faramir? Can you speak?” the elf asked. Faramir shook his head this time. By now Elrond had approached the boy, sitting him down in a chair. He started to feel Faramir’s neck and throat, his brow furrowed once again. After he found nothing physically wrong with Faramir’s neck he looked into the boy’s eyes, searching for some sort of answer. “You are sparking my concern. You can breathe, but you cannot speak – that is peculiar. You have not been ill, so you cannot have a sore throat. I am at a loss.” Elrond watched as Faramir cleared his throat.
“I can speak,” Faramir finally whispered. He feared talking any louder.
“Can you speak in a normal tone of voice and not a whisper?” Elrond asked. Faramir nodded and said, “But I fear doing it…” With those five words alone, Elrond had a very good idea of what was going on. The boy was now hiding his face in his hands, his face obviously flushed.
“Faramir, have you been hiding out in your room all day due to your voice lowering?” Elrond asked, to confirm if this was, indeed, actually what was going on. It would not be the first time he had seen someone young do it. Faramir nodded, hanging his head.
“But you cannot hide in your chambers all day simply because of this,” Elrond explained, holding the boy’s hand and stroking it to give him some comfort. “You must not let these things rule your life. You must not be afraid, there is no reason to be.”
“But it is horrible! I remember when Boromir had to go through with this. Father teased him all the while. Boromir hated it… I don’t want to go through with it, I don’t.” He sounded pitiful. “Your father was cruel to tease, Faramir. I hope you know that none of that nonsense will happen here. If someone even tries, they will hear from me specifically. I will see to it.” Elrond was perplexed, thinking of Boromir’s plight, and felt relieved that he at least had rescued Faramir just in time. Surely he would have taken much more teasing from his father that Boromir ever did. The elf held Faramir gently, and stroked his hair. He knew it would soothe the child. “All is well.”
“I do not wish to speak again.” Though Faramir was being serious, there was also a hint of joking in his voice. Elrond couldn’t hide a chuckle before saying, “Come, now, you must speak. Surely you understand that you will get over this, in time. You must not despair, you are better than that. And you must continue your lessons in our native language, this must not stop you from learning the speech of the elves.” The elf gave him a small smile as the boy looked up, his eyes sparkling in anticipation of learning the elven language.
“Would you like me to prepare you a tonic?” Elrond asked. “Will it help?” Faramir asked in return. The elf stood up and moved toward a kettle filled with water, which had been warming over the fire. “It will soothe your throat. Some tea with lemon and honey would do you good.”
“Thank you,” was all the boy replied, still flushed. “I never would have wanted you to see me this way,” he continued, putting his head down. “I never thought this would happen.”
“What did you believe, Faramir? Did you believe you were invincible to adolescence? No, that would not be good. How else will grow into a man? Your brother survived it, and so will you. It takes a few years of time, and some experiences, but you are strong, and this is part of getting there. It is a necessary evil.” Faramir was amazed by how relaxing Elrond’s voice was, no matter how tense the situation. He relaxed into his chair as Elrond measured honey and sugar into the cup and talked. He squeezed a bit of fresh lemon in for good measure, and the aroma filled the room. “I remember so many years ago, young one, when I myself was growing into maturity; it was a tumultuous time, I will have you know. And my twin sons… well… they were quite a lot to deal with. They had to endure my own wrath.” The elf smiled to himself as he stirred tea leaves into the lemon, sugar, and honey mixture. He inhaled the pleasant scent of the mix as he walked back to the boy and handed the warm cup to him.
“This will help. It will soothe you, and help you to relax.” He walked to the side of Faramir’s bed, pulling back the covers. “I know it is early, but you should sleep instead of being anxious.” Elrond did not mention that he placed a bit of a sleeping draught to the drink the boy was now consuming. Elrond bid Faramir a good evening and left him alone to think, ponder, and dream.
As the summer and early autumn months came and went, Elrond observed how well Faramir was learning elvish battle tactics of the bow, and Erestor was beginning to teach him how to use the elvish blades in addition to the bow. Elrond noted that Faramir had certainly grown taller, and thankfully his voice had evened out a bit, becoming several octaves lower over time.
“He is quite skilled with the blades as well as the bow, Master Elrond,” Erestor said one day, when he visited Elrond in his study. “I predict that he will become quite the warrior, and may shock his fellow men when he returns home.”
“I agree with you; he will grow strong. And I think a bit of shock would do his own father some good,” Elrond said rather darkly. Elrond could imagine the fear in Denethor’s eyes at Faramir’s return, his boy fully grown and trained, and quite frankly, capable of kicking the man’s ass. He smiled wickedly to himself, before forcing himself to stop thinking such things. It was no good to be so evil. “Our Steward Denethor must awaken if we are to have any hope of defeating Sauron, or at least keeping his evil at bay.”
“Indeed. I feel that Faramir will be serving an important role, with his position as the Steward’s son – but are you really planning to send him back?” Erestor asked. Elrond could hear a hint of anxiety in his chief assistant’s voice, something that didn’t happen very often. Elrond knew that Erestor cared for Faramir as much as he did. “I think we both know that he must face his own father eventually,” was all he said. He stood by the window, musing about something, and Erestor knew from the concentrated expression on his master’s face that he was in no frame of mind to speak to anyone. Elrond often preferred to be alone with his own thoughts.
Elrond himself had pondered the very question Erestor had asked aloud, wondering where exactly Faramir would end up residing in his adult years. He had rescued the boy from the wrath of Denethor, and he had been successful. But at that point, he had no considered where the boy would go. He was surprised to find that his own heart was heavy at the thought of Faramir returning to Gondor, the same type of heaviness a parent feels for a child leaving home for the first time. How could he have already grown so attached to the child? He was just a child… but Elrond supposed it was the child’s past that made him feel so much anxiety for Faramir’s future. Would he send the boy with his archery skills to become the greatest ranger of Ithilien? Should he keep him safe in Rivendell to do scholarly research in the libraries and archives? Should he return to Gondor, to the service of his father? The latter would be Elrond’s last resort, but he had to figure out what Faramir wanted, as well as figure out what would be morally correct. He paced the floor, eyes focused on the designs engraved into the tiles below his feet.
“Elrond?” came the voice he had learned to know so well. Elrond looked up to see Faramir standing in the doorway, looking quite gangly and covered in a light sheen of sweat. The sword in his hand proved that Elrond’s guess that he boy had been practicing swordplay was correct. “Good afternoon, Faramir. Have you completed your studies for the day?”
“Yes, I have.” The way Faramir hesitated in the doorway indicated that he had something to say, but did not know how to say it. Elrond looked to him expectantly, all ears. Faramir lowered his eyes, saying, “I am sorry – but I overheard both Erestor and yourself speaking a few moments ago.” For once, Elrond was surprised. Erestor must not have closed the door to his study when they had been speaking. Growing slightly panicked, he remembered his words. ” I think we both know that he must face his own father eventually.”
“You are concerned about what I stated before,” Elrond said. He sat down at his desk and rummaged through some papers. “It disturbed you. I am sorry, Faramir, it was something that your ears were not supposed to hear.” He turned around to face the boy, guilt growing in his chest.
“Do not be sorry,” was all Faramir said. Elrond sighed, reflecting upon Faramir’s gentle nature. “You truly are so much what your mother once was, Faramir,” Elrond mused. “She was so like you. I do miss Finduilas, but I see her in you – and that comforts me.”
“But what will I do? What will I confront my father about? What can I possibly do to make him listen? He will not listen to me; he never has.” Faramir’s eyes expressed severe anxiety his body restless. “He does not listen to me like you do.”
“Your father listens to no one, save for a very few people, such as his advisors and your brother. Though it may be difficult to see, that is simply how your father behaves now. Men can be weak, but you… I feel that you will be strong. And that strength will stem and grow from facing your own father.” Elrond had spent a good deal of thought on that. “ I think you have already felt that destiny in your own heart.”
“I know. I have felt it. I knew I would have to go back to him one day. I just don’t know how much of an impact I will have on him.” Elrond could hear the defeat and anxiety in the boy’s voice, and it worried him, if only slightly. He turned around, and Faramir saw that the elf’s face was now pleasant. “Do not worry now. The time for this will come, but it is not now – and when the time comes for you to face these fears, you will feel much more prepared and far less troubled.” As the boy left to return to his swordplay, Elrond was left to ponder the not-so-distant future of the Steward’s youngest, most gifted son.
Author note: And I’m back again! I’ve written several more chapters for this story. This chapter might seem a little rusty since I was just starting the story up again, but it gets better, and if I seem to still have readers and comments, I will keep on updating. I hope you are all out there somewhere, and I hope you had a happy holiday season. (Can you believe it’s 2012 already?) Okay, without further ado…
Chapter Five
Time passed quickly in Elrond’s eyes. Having existed for so many years, five years of seasons and training and meandering in the lives of men and elves seemed to pass in the amount of time a few short months would take in the eyes of Men. There were many changes that took place during the five years and their seasons. Faramir grew into the age of seventeen, whose brother visited him during a few of the winter seasons. He became well practiced in swordplay, and even more of an expert with the bow. Elrond knew that Faramir’s fellow Men would hardly be able to distinguish Faramir’s shot from that of the elves; he had indeed grown very accurate. And with the personal tutoring of Elrond and Erestor, Faramir became extremely learned in the history of Middle Earth.
Through his studies, Elrond had trained Faramir to be an extremely critical thinker, very logical and strategic in the planning of imaginary battles. He had grown incredibly skilled at drawing maps, which was what filled most of the content of Faramir’s many leather journals. Maps filled the young man’s chamber walls as well; Elrond found it rather endearing that the youth would hang maps and papers on the walls and surround himself with other interesting information is in chambers, keeping books at his bedside The rest of the entries were filled with his experiences in Rivendell, along with the most interesting parts of books he had ever found in the libraries of Rivendell. He was both physically and mentally trained and skilled, much stronger than he would ever have been in Gondor. Erestor also assisted in Faramir’s training,
While Boromir had been physically very strong, Faramir possessed some of this strength but was also lithe and skilled, rather precise and light on his feet like the elves he had grown up with. There was a certain lope in his step that had smoothed him out the older he had gotten, as if a whisper of the elves’ grace had impressed upon him. But Elrond though this young man was perhaps a perfect example of a blend between Man and Elf, Elrond could still see the mortal side of him, the human side.
His education in the elvish language through both tutoring and practical experience made him quite skilled in the language, so much so that he was able to speak with his neighbors and elven friends in their native tongues. With Elrond, however, they mostly spoke in Faramir’s native language, the common tongue. Elrond frequently encouraged Faramir to keep in touch with his own heritage and to not completely absorb himself in the elvish ways of life, for he was truly one of the Men; his true lineage was something to be proud of. This encouragement was accompanied by visits in the winters from Boromir, who travelled to Rivendell to spend time with his brother and the elves.
“You should proud of yourself, little brother,” Elrond overheard Boromir saying one evening, after many had retired to bed. The two brothers had remained in the dining hall, drinking wine and enjoying one another’s company, not knowing that they were not alone. “You have come quite a long way since I last saw you, and I hope never to be your enemy in a battle in which you are wielding your bow.”
Elrond heard Faramir laugh, a great chuckle. It brought the elf great contentment to hear the youngest man laughing so wholeheartedly and sounding so content with his brother. The two brothers exchanged a few more jokes before the conversation grew quieter. The ears of Men would not have been able to hear the whispers, but Elrond could hear every hushed word – and had no intention of leaving them be.
“How is father?” Faramir asked. He kept his voice hushed, sounding hesitant. There were a few seconds of silence before Boromir’s response, “He is well enough.”
“Does he wish to see me return?”
“You know that I cannot truly answer that… he never tells me his true thoughts on the subject.”
“But what do you think? You know him better than most anyone else, you are one of his several chief advisors.”
“I think he would see you return, little brother, but I fear that his intentions would be foul.” Elrond heard Boromir sigh in what seemed like distress. “I feel you would be much better off here. Elrond has been more of a father figure to you than father ever can be… you know I think that.”
“I do know,” Faramir replied. “I just don’t know if it’s the right thing to do. I feel as though I should return to Gondor, to fight and defend our people. I have been taught here indeed, but I was to keep using our common tongue at times to keep myself in touch with my roots. I was not to forget that I am a Man, I belong to Men, and I belong to Gondor.”
“I do understand, little brother.” Boromir was trying his best to be comforting now, though it wasn’t his strongest suit. “I think you would be better off here.”
“Doing what?” Faramir asked. “I have been trained. I am not just good with the bow, I am good with the blade also. I can set aside my skills with the bow… if that is what father wishes to see.”
“That is not something I can decide for you, little brother,” Boromir replied. “I only know that father wished for both of us to become good swordsmen. He believes only swordsmen are useful in midst of battle.”
“He has not yet seen me with the bow,” Faramir retorted. “Can he ignore such skill and killing power with weapons other than the sword, if that weapon’s master is able to kill with ease using a different weapon?”
“Father seems able to ignore whatever he pleases,” Boromir replied. The answer came with such stunning honesty and bluntness that neither brother had a word to say for a few long moments, until Faramir broke the silence.
“I think it will be time soon for me to return to Gondor. At least for a time.” There was a pause. “I think it will do everyone a world of good for me to be reintroduced, even if I do not stay for long. At some point, I must return there. And believe it or not, brother, I miss Gondor. I miss her beauty, although my home here is very beautiful. I miss the libraries, even though there are many more manuscripts here. I miss so many things about Gondor, brother… and I think I miss them only because Gondor is my true home, and a city brimming with the power of Men. I cannot help but have a little pride.”
“Spoken like a true son of the Steward,” came the older brother’s reply. “I am glad you wish to return, although I fear it will not be an easy process for anyone. But I do not believe that now is the proper time.”
“Is now truly not a proper time, brother, or is it simply easier to push this situation back so as not to confront it?”
“That is a possibility, brother.” Boromir sighed. “Though I am the older one, you always have had more insight. But truly, I do think that your age is still a bit too young. You are old enough to do a worthy job, I am sure. But with a few more years of age and experience, I think you will be strong enough to face what lies ahead. Do not fear, little brother. There will be plenty of time for you to prove yourself to father. The time is probably not now, though.”
The next morning, just a little after dawn, Boromir set off once again for Gondor. Though the Steward seemed able to keep things stable, Boromir was one of his chief advisors, and so Boromir began making his journey back to Gondor after a very early morning meal.
“We wish you safe travels,” Elrond said, as he bid Boromir farewell. Elrond then lowered his voice; now that he and Boromir were alone for a moment, he could speak about the issues at hand. “I do know of last night’s conversation. Faramir is indeed still too young to be journeying back to Gondor just yet.”
“Indeed.” Boromir was slightly surprised that the elf had learned of the private conversation. “Several more years must pass, at least. I am still glad that he wishes to return, but he is far more safe here. I cannot spend all my time overseeing how our father treats him.”
“That is understandable.” The elf placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Do take care, Boromir. I speak for all elves here when I say that we are glad you come to visit with us, and spend the winter festival holidays here. We like to keep connections with Men, especially the brother of Faramir. We do care very much for him.”
“I am glad for that,” Boromir said. “For now, I must go on. Do take care, master Elrond.” With that, Boromir was off, and Elrond made his way back up the steps and through the hallways to the breakfast hall as the sun rose steadily over the trees and waterfalls.
When Elrond joined the rest of his assistants and counselors in one of the large dining halls for breakfast, Faramir was already seated at the table along with a few other elves. Although elves did not find sleep necessary, they adhered to evening hours of alone time, and morning and daytime hours were reserved for socializing and working on whatever business needed attending to. Being one of Elrond’s understudies as well as a useful young man, Faramir always arrived in the dining hall to sit and have breakfast. This was the normal routine for any of their mornings when there was not a holiday.
“How do you fare this morning, Faramir?” Elrond heard Glorfindel ask, as he approached the table. Faramir was already seated in his normal place, across the table from Glorfindel and Rúmil. He looked even further buried in his thoughts this morning. “I am well,” he finally replied, but in reality, he looked deeply buried in some dark thoughts. Faramir was always this way when his brother left; seeing family go away was always difficult for the young man, although he had gotten better at it as he aged. Elrond was well aware that Glorfindel knew of this sad and withdrawn behavior, and was simply trying to cheer the young one up. By the time Elrond could begin pondering how to bring some cheerful topics of conversation to the table, Arwen arrived and seated herself at the table, choosing to sit next to Faramir. She quietly began engaging him in conversation. “We should go out riding today,” she said. “The weather is perfectly fit for it, and I think it would do you well to see the sun.” Faramir nodded in reply, trying to shake himself out of his sullen attitude. “That would be lovely, lady Arwen,” Faramir replied, “but you do not need to fuss over me.” She smiled, replying, “I do not fuss much over you. But I do know that today is a fine day for riding. I believe Glorfindel is coming along, too.” Elrond smiled to see that Glorfindel would be joining them, knowing that the more company Faramir had today, the better off he would be. Caring for his peoples’ mental health was just as important as caring for their physical health. While Elrond was beginning to consider Faramir as more of a son, he tried to keep the distance by insisting that Faramir was more like one of his patients. He was caring for him long term and giving him a happy home, to set him out into the world as a free and willing Man, to do the work that would need to be done.
After the morning meal was finished, Faramir decided to move himself back toward the libraries. Although he had finally taken Arwen and Glorfindel up on going horseback riding throughout Rivendell in the early afternoon hours, he was quite content with the idea of spending some time alone with the manuscripts in the libraries. He wandered through the halls, being alone with his thoughts, until he was interrupted.
“Faramir.” The voice was so familiar to him now, that he stopped and turned around while Elrond was still approaching him. “Where are you going?”
“To the libraries, my lord.” Faramir wondered why Elrond was asking him this; he only traveled down this hallway when he was going off to read manuscripts. Surely this wise elf knew, as always, what he was up to. “Is there something you need from me?”
“You haven’t spoken to me with such formality in quite some time,” Elrond replied, looking Faramir in the eye. “I am simply Elrond to you; you know that.” Faramir looked up at him and replied, “Yes. I know that. I’m sorry. I’m just going to take some time to think, and I always go to the libraries when I think, and this is the only way to the libraries. So when you asked where I was going, I was confused. I am sorry.” Faramir’s tone of voice and behavior were both very calculated, and the elf noticed it straight away. Whatever this behavior was, it did not seem healthy.
The afternoon passed by as always. Arwen and Glorfindel managed to pull Faramir out of the library later in the afternoon to do a little bit of riding with them. Elrond watched them from afar, from the comfort of his study and his desk. Not more than an hour of riding had gone by, however, when all three returned to the stables and Faramir slinked back off to his shrine of books. Not more than quarter of an hour later, Elrond heard his daughter entering his study.
“Ada.” She walked casually about the room, admiring her father’s office furnishings and taking in some of the fresh air coming through the window, but she was deep in thought. She turned to her father after a moment. “I fear for Faramir. Of course, Boromir just left, but he is simply not acting the same. We know he experiences his blues; he is one of Men. But his behavior appears to be far worse this time.” Elrond, ever caring about his daughter, saw the worried look upon her face and began walking her towards some of the nearby garden courtyards lying outside one of his office doors and conversed with her.
“What do you fear about Faramir?”
“He is more withdrawn than normal. He went with Glorfindel and I to go out riding, which I am sure you saw, but he did not pay much attention or get much joy out of it. He was distracted. You know he loves riding horses, Ada.”
“Indeed, he does.” Elrond became a bit more concerned. “I was indeed hoping that some time spent with you, and Glorfindel, would help our young man to feel more upbeat after his brother parted ways with us today. That is odd.”
“That’s not all, Ada.” They were now in the courtyard, and she sat down on one of the benches to rest. “Glorfindel tried to discuss a strategy game with Faramir, trying to get him to play. That didn’t work either.”
“Perhaps Faramir was not interested at that moment in playing a particular game, although he does love strategy and logic,” Elrond mused. The boy was usually up for games, so he could not deny that his daughter had a point.
“Glorfindel also told Faramir about some new maps, Ada.” Elrond looked up at her, roused from his thoughts. “He was discussing some older maps, something Faramir had not seen before. Faramir seemed slightly interested by it, but then brushed it off, saying nothing more about it at all. And then he stopped into his chambers for a moment, while I was heading down the hallway to see you – after our ride – and he came back out of his chambers holding another one of those blank books. You know the ones he writes in so much, although the words he writes, I do not know.”
“He is young,” Elrond stated. “You know this. Though you are younger than I, you know that Faramir is a mere seventeen years old. He is still considered an infant in our eyes, really. His thoughts and dreams get poured out on those pages, along with maps. I do agree… it is strange that he was not interested in learning more about the maps Glorfindel was talking about.” He stood up. “Do not worry, dear daughter. I am sure Faramir will be feeling better about things soon, but I should tend to him. I am sure he is back in his favorite set of book stacks.” Elrond placed a finger under his daughter’s chin, and drew it up so he could better see her face. “Do not fear. Your concern for him is very motherly, though, and I get joy from seeing that side of you. You are a warrior of a daughter, and for that I am most proud. But this reminds me of a day when I might have elflings from you, to care for and dote on.”
“Someday, there will be children of my own – though I fear it will still be a while from now. You have lived so long though, Ada – I am sure you can wait slightly longer.” With that, the undomniel smiled, got to her feet, and swept off to attend to business elsewhere while Elrond made his way back down toward book stacks.
When he entered Faramir’s favorite library, the young man was sitting in the corner near the fireplace. There was a large stack of reading next to him, books and scrolls and papers all together, picked out individually to browse and read. Deeply engrossed in reading as always, it took a moment for him to look up. Once he saw Elrond, he jumped up from his chair, as if caught doing something improper. He backed away a few steps toward the corner of the room as Elrond moved toward him.
“Faramir?” Elrond asked, as he approached him. “What is wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, I just didn’t expect you.”
“Well, please. Sit back down.” Elrond took a sit in the chair across from Faramir’s, and waited for the boy to do the same. Faramir seated himself once again, not taking his eyes off Elrond.
“Faramir,” Elrond began, “I know that something is deeply troubling you. I do not know if it is simply sadness that your brother has left, or if it is something more. You are exhibiting signs of a deep grief, one which I am not sure can easily be broken out of without assistance from others.” As Elrond expected, his pupil reacted rather defensively.
“I need no help, I am fine!” he began, crossing his arms. “I am truly fine. I simply came here to read my manuscripts. I went out riding earlier today. I feel fine. I would just like to return to my reading and work.” When Faramir saw the stern look on Elrond’s face, he knew that such statements were not going to work. Still, he did not give up his tough face. He wanted the elf to not worry about him, no matter what it took. Elrond pressed forward.
“I know that you want to be strong, Faramir. And you are strong. Feeling sadness… well, Men seem to percieve it as a weakness, a lack of strength and reserve. However, I already know that for such a young individual, you have had to withstand difficult facts about your life and your future that you might not have had to face directly until now.” Faramir looked away from Elrond now, afraid that his eyes might give away how truthful the elf’s statements were. Elrond struggled to make eye contact with him again and said, “You have to face some days directly, with the fact that your father does not seem to appreciate you or your talents, even talents which are strongly developed. I know that you wish to confront him, but I strongly believe that you do not yet have the strength to do so.” Elrond was going to continue, when he heard a sound come from Faramir’s direction. The youth’s face was buried in his hands, unmoving. Elrond stood up and moved behind Faramir’s chair, and placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders – they were shaking with tears.
“Come now, Faramir. I know the situation is difficult, but do not make yourself overtired from it,” Elrond said. “You must keep up your strength, but I believe it is beginning to fail you.” The elf took the boy’s hands in his own, and realized that they would not stop trembling with tension. Elrond became quite concerned at this point. Looking into Faramir’s eyes, which were bloodshot and stained with tears, he realized what must be done.
“You must rest. I cannot let you out of my sight until you are feeling much better. I am going to take you back in as one of my patients, and you must adhere to my healing methods until you are mended. Do you understand?”
“I don’t need it!” Faramir began protesting in earnest, though he knew it was in vain. Once Lord Elrond decided someone needed his healing care, he was always right and he always got his way. It wasn’t that Elrond’s healing was harmful or unpleasant; in fact, it was much like being on holiday. But Faramir, being his age, simply wanted to be left alone. The elf gave a stare so strong that he youth stopped his protests immediately.
“I do not mind what you say right now; I have made myself clear. You need much rest, you have grown weary again. You are not strong right now, and you deserve having someone to care for you. I hope you will take all of this with grace, because it will help you. You know this by now.”
“I do.” Faramir had calmed down by this point, but looked overtired. “What are you going to have me do?”
“You will rest,” Elrond said. “It is quite simple. You are not to go out and improve your training and skills with the bow or the sword until I say it is right to do so. It is too cold outside for Men to dwell, especially those who are ill and require time to rest. The winter season is a bit too harsh for Men, even in Rivendell. I will prepare some medications and tonics for you, which will take hold of your health soon. Until then, you must be patient with me, despite how strong you may feel. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” Faramir replied after a moment, but his thoughts were already far away. Elrond placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, grabbing the young man’s attention again. “Are you sure there is nothing else you wish to talk about? Is there anything else I do not know that is grieving you?” Elrond asked. When the boy shook his head, Elrond knew that it was not the full truth, but let the matter rest. All things would be revealed in time.
Author’s Note: Finally updating this story again… At this point, I wonder how long it will take me to complete it? Feel free to R&R… if you have any ideas about how this story should continue, feel free to give me input. :)
Chapter Six
Just after that evening’s meal, Faramir had been sent to bed early by Elrond. Now under the elf’s healing care, Faramir was to obey strict rules of an early bedtime and plenty of sleep to enable some well-deserved restful healing. Elrond sat in his study while the boy slept, pondering his own thoughts as usual, but Erestor knew that his lord was under more stress than usual.
“You are worried about Faramir, are you not?” Erestor asked, approaching Elrond as he worked at his desk. Elrond felt no need to hide his thoughts from Erestor, replying, “I am indeed. I have not seen such behavior and hurt from him since he first arrived here.”
“Is it not perfectly normal for younger Men of his age to still respond emotionally to stressful situations?” Erestor asked, although they both knew he was correct. Elrond nodded vaguely, saying, “That much is true. However, Faramir is usually far better at controlling himself. He appears more mature than other young Men of his age.”
“Perhaps he deserves a bit of a break,” Erestor suggested. The elf sat down with a book, and flipped absentmindedly through its pages. ”He will only be young once, then an adult for such a short time. Then he will grow old… and like all other Men, he will die.”
“That one has much work yet to complete before his life is over,” Elrond replied, “and I think you know that.” Elrond’s foresight hinted to him that this Man and his standing, being one of the sons of the Steward of Gondor, told him much about the boy’s future role in Middle Earth… Particularly for Gondor.
“I do know that. I do not mean to be so rash.” Erestor stood up and said, “I mainly came to you merely to alert you that the boy is not truly sleeping. I just passed his chambers, he’s awake and writing away in his notebook.” After that statement, Elrond looked up at Erestor with a somewhat stern look. “Why were you watching him?”
“I am sorry my lord,” Erestor replied, apologetic. “He did not even know that I opened his doors and had one mere glance inside. I merely suspected that he was awake, and indeed his was – and far too engrossed in his writings to notice I was even there.”
“Very well then, I will ask him about it. He needs his sleep, and I made that absolutely clear to him.” Elrond stood and walked down another winding hallway to prepare a tonic for Faramir and Erestor followed behind, saying, “While you are the healer of this House, I am your closest advisor, and I know that you are under more duress lately. Please allow me to care for you also; someone must help you.”
“I need no tending to, Erestor; you know that.” Elrond fussed over preparing Faramir’s tonic, blending the ingredients in a mug. “The heaviness of my thoughts does not weaken me as it does for Faramir, or other men, or even some elves. You know this.”
“Indeed I do,” Erestor responded. “However, I do think you fail to realize how much I wish to care for you.” Was there something in Erestor’s voice that hinted at something more? For once, Elrond could not fully tell.
“I do realize, Erestor.” The calm timbre of Elrond’s voice soothed his companion. “Do not worry for me. I am well, and under no more stress than I can normally handle. After surviving all I have, there is nothing on my mind that can worry me to a point of exhaustion again.” Having fully prepared the tonic, the elf headed down the hallway alone to Faramir’s chambers. Knocking once on the door, he entered before the bewildered boy had a chance to hide his books and return to bed. “Doing a little bit more writing, I see?” Elrond asked with a slight smile, the tone of his voice akin to a parent catching a child stealing an extra cookie from the jar. He brought the tonic to Faramir, handing it to him. “This is for you.”
“Another tonic, perhaps?” Faramir asked, trying to make light conversation after being caught. He took a deep drink, and knew from the taste that it was indeed one of Elrond’s magical concoctions – probably one for sleeping. The elf sat down next to Faramir on the bed and stated, “I do not know what is on your mind, young one. But I am hoping you will open up to me soon, given that I am someone you can tell you worries to.”
“Isn’t that being a bit weak at heart?” Faramir asked, looking up at the Elf. Elrond smiled. “In situations such as these, it is the opposite. Even the mightiest of warriors must confide their own worries and concerns once in awhile. There is no escaping it, and discussing issues with a trusted friend is the best way to resolve those issues more quickly. I hope, by now, that I am one of your trusted friends.”
“Oh, you are.” The way Faramir immediately worked to please Elrond was both endearing and worrisome.
“Then what were you writing so vigorously in your journal?” Elrond asked. “I think it must know some of your secrets.” When Faramir looked up at Elrond again, there was an expression of surprise and fear. He seemed to be frozen for a moment, before quickly looking away and saying, “I wasn’t writing much. Just scribbles.”
“You and I both know that those were no scribbles,” Elrond said. “Would it be better if I simply read it, or would you rather tell me an edited version of the words you’ve been writing on paper late this evening?”
The sigh that came from Faramir’s lips was distraught, and filled with hesitation. Elrond noticed that the boy was beginning to shake, but he didn’t know what for. He placed an arm around his shoulder and murmured, “What is it? You can let it go. You need to tell someone.” When there was no response he prompted, “I know that things are difficult with your father, but this is why you need healing. You need time, before facing that sort of challenge. We discussed this. I would be happy to discuss it further, if you wish.” At that point, Faramir thrust himself into Elrond’s arms for a hug and didn’t let go. The elf hugged the boy for a few moments, but realized that something was still wrong. Instead of opening up about this difficult topic that had been brought out into the open, Faramir was still hesitant. Then Faramir said, “Em… Elrond… that is what makes it so hard for me to talk. The thing I have been most worried about is not that… my brother and I discussed that, and it is indeed stressful to think about reuniting with father, but there was something else that my brother and I discussed one evening while he was here. And it has bothered me since, and I can’t get some of these thoughts out of my head.” Faramir heaved another great sigh after that statement, as if the words were lifting a bit of a burden off his shoulders. Elrond knew they were making progress. They couldn’t stop now.
“I see. What is it that you two discussed?” the elf asked, genuinely curious. As far as he could remember, he had not overheard any other conversations of the two young Men talking alone.
“Well…” Faramir sat up so he could look Elrond in the eye. “Boromir was telling me about… um… some times he’s had back in Gondor during the rest of the winter festivals and holidays, but they were about time he spent with… a few maidens…” Faramir trailed off and Elrond picked up in his stead, saying, “I am assuming your brother was talking about some of his own sexual escapades, was he not? He is certainly of a proper age to be doing so… oh, Faramir. You are becoming flushed.” Elrond did his best to remain calm as always, although inwardly he was fighting the urge to giggle at the petrified and embarrassed look on Faramir’s face. “I know we have briefly discussed sexuality before, so why is this a large matter?”
“Well… he was telling me some stories about it, and they were all about ladies he had been with, and I realized… I’ve never really had a lady of my own, and I wondered if that was… strange.”
“Oh, it’s certainly not strange, but you are just coming in to the age of finding someone of your own to spend intimate time with. There is no specific time to find someone, but if you found someone now, I am sure you would be with her. The primary problem, for you, is that you live in an area surrounded by elves,” Elrond chuckled. But something on Faramir’s face told him something else was amiss.
“That’s just the problem,” Faramir murmured now. “Surrounded by eleves. I have always been fascinated by them. I remember the infatuation I had for lady Arwen when you first brought me here, but I have never felt that for anybody else. Well, anybody except for… no. Nobody else.” Faramir began fidgeting with his own hands and clammed up, but Elrond was far too intrigued to let this go. “Who is it?” he asked. No response. “You were about to say the name. Who is she? Faramir?” The elf gave a light sigh, then asked once more, “What is her first name?”
“It’s not a lady!” Faramir suddenly burst out, before placing a hand over his mouth and turning away. Elrond was slightly baffled by the sudden outburst of behavior, but handled it as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “I am listening, young one. It is a male that you are attracted to?” he asked, wishing to get to the point before the man shut down and never told him anything again. Slowly, Faramir nodded.
“There is no shame in being attracted to another male,” Elrond said, feeling a sense of relief wash over him for a moment as he realized that Faramir’s troubles were something that could be quite easy to get over in this accepting environment. “I hope you know that. You know that the elves do not discriminate against the sexuality of others, as long as every act is consensual between all partners involved.” Elrond found this thought a bit bemusing; though a few Men were known to display homosexual attraction toward other males, the elves were the primary race in Middle Earth known for their acceptance and practice of homosexual acts. However, as Elrond pondered who Faramir’s affections might lie with, he realized that there were very few Men in all of Rivendell that Faramir could be attracted to. He asked, “Faramir, who is he?”
“I do not think it would be wise for me to tell you,” Faramir replied, looking genuinely fearful and hesitant. Elrond smiled a little. “Now, really. You already admitted to me all those years ago that you were sweet on my own daughter, so I am sure I can handle hearing this. You can tell me, and it will be kept in the strictest of confidence.” Elrond saw Faramir beginning to trust him and waited for the answer, which finally fell off of Faramir’s lips.
“Erestor.” When the word finally came out, Faramir instantly began searching in Elrond’s eyes for a negative reaction. Even after five years of being in good friendship with Elrond, he always feared losing the old elf’s trust and friendship. Elrond looked away for a moment, deep in thought. Though the situation was perfectly serious to Faramir, to Elrond it was like watching a young elfling admit to a crush on another older elf. It was no big deal; in fact, Elrond found it endearing as well. However, he knew that Faramir’s feelings needed to be treated with care, so he spent a few moments assuring the young man that things would be all right.
“No need to fear, dear Faramir,” Elrond soothes the Gondorian. “It is normal to have these feelings. With living so long, most elves are widely aware of the number of crushes individuals can have on them, and it is not alarming. And sometimes, it is most welcome.” Though Elrond was almost certain that Erestor was not interested in Faramir in that way, he did not want to crush the boy’s feelings. “Why is it that you feel so attracted to him?”
“I can’t really explain it,” Faramir whispered back, keeping his voice hushed as if Erestor was just around the corner. Faramir certainly didn’t want many knowing about his mixed-up feelings for the elf.
“Well, that won’t do. That is much too vague of an answer. I think you know that, as well.” Elrond considered things for a moment, and remembered just a few moments ago when Erestor had stopped in to Faramir’s chambers to check on him. “You have spent as much time with Erestor as you have with me, learning to use the bow and studying many maps. What would have drawn you to Erestor, and not me? Attraction is certainly an interesting phenomenon, isn’t it? You must focus on the small details in an individual, to determine what it is that you truly enjoy about them.” When Faramir began blushing a deep scarlet, Elrond couldn’t help but to smile. He prompted the lad once again to tell him what was on his mind.
“Well, I was just thinking… I mean, both Erestor and you have taught me for a long time, and you’re alike… and so I don’t know why I would only have feelings for him.” Faramir finally met Elrond’s eyes. “I do not know why I am so fascinated with elves.”
“Elves are fascinating to many, sometimes even to ourselves!” Elrond replied. “That may seem slightly narcissistic, though. It is perfectly normal to be curious about them, and being curious in this way is not out of the ordinary.” In his heart, Elrond knew that Faramir’s infatuation was innocent – he was going to have a hard time not telling Erestor, simply because it was so sweet.
Meanwhile, Faramir’s own thoughts were swimming with ideas. What should he be telling the elf? How much should he tell? In reality, it wasn’t just Erestor that he liked – he found many elves in Rivendell to be attractive. And even though Elrond was the eldest of them all, he remained rather youthful in appearance, somehow. So much age and experience wrapped in one individual was always something that drew Faramir to Elrond, even when he had only read about Elrond in texts as a young child in Minas Tirith. These thoughts began overwhelming him, and he forgot the conversation for a moment until Elrond said, “Faramir, you’re shaking. Whatever is the matter? What are you worried about?” He took the young man to his shoulder now, embracing and comforting him. The Man’s words came with much hesitancy.
“I… I don’t even think I like just Erestor,” Faramir finally admitted. He had to get this news off of his own chest, before it absolutely crushed him. He couldn’t lie to Elrond, no matter how much he wanted to. He could keep secrets from the elf, but it would crush him – and Elrond always seemed to notice whenever Faramir was feeling guilty. “It seems that lately, almost every elf I see… I find him attractive. And hardly ever any of the female elves, although there have been a few in the past couple of weeks…”
“Faramir.” Elrond liked the fact that the boy was talking, but he wanted to interject. “As frightening as these things may seem to you, I have no doubt that they are perfectly normal behavior for your age. You are still learning many things, and sexuality is not something to be excluded in that learning process. You have grown up among the rest of us elves, and have forged some of the first close friendships of your life with male elves. I have a feeling that this behavior and these crushes on so many elven men – all simultaneous crushes, it seems – will fade in time, after a bit of your curiosity wears off.” Faramir listened intently, hoping that Elrond was right. He looked the elf in the face and asked, “Have other people done this before?”
“Many do it,” Elrond replied. “You are most certainly not the only one. These feelings are something that should be enjoyed, not worried about. Sometimes they are not even about obtaining sexual pleasure. Perhaps you may just want to hold someone’s hand.” As Elrond said so, he tested the water by slowly grasping Faramir’s hand and holding it in both of his own, caressing it quite tenderly. Elrond felt Faramir tense up and he blushed again, and knew then that the boy had a harmless crush on him as well. Faramir looked up at him after a moment and muttered, “You know, don’t you?”
“I think I do,” Elrond replied gently. “But it is quite all right.” But as he spoke, Faramir’s eyes would not leave his lips. After a moment’s hesitation, the elf asked, “Faramir… have you kissed someone before?”
“Kissed?” The young Gondorian looked slightly confused, but Elrond knew he was only fussing to keep from giving an answer straight away. “Sure. I’ve kissed on the cheek, I’ve been kissed on the cheek, I’ve kissed lady Arwen’s hand…” he trailed off when the elf began smiling at him, one of the biggest smiles he had ever seen the elf give. Faramir sighed. “No,” he finally admitted, “I have never kissed someone… like that. I have never been kissed by anyone, either. …Why are you asking me about this?”
“You can’t keep your eyes off of me,” Elrond grinned. “Even now. You are doing it again.” Faramir tore his eyes away and looked to the floor, apologizing. “I’m sorry. I guess I was just…” he took another deep breath, bracing himself. “I guess I was just wondering what it would be like. With you.”
“I know,” Elrond murmured, “That’s quite all right… It’s all very innocent. Do you want to try it?” he asked out of fun, and the Gondorian jumped. “Relax! Relax,” Elrond said, and took a deep breath. The young man followed his lead, taking the edge of the tension off. “It’s quite all right if you don’t want to. I would understand if you were curious and wanted to practice. But you have to be sure that you would be satisfied knowing that I was your very first kiss, out of many kisses I am sure you will receive in your lifetime. That is the deal.”
“No, I think I want to.” Faramir sounded more determined now, and the elf fought not to chuckle. This ought to be an interesting learning experience for him, the elf mused. I have told him before that he is always welcome to discuss topics of sexuality with me, but this is the first time he has ever accepted any help. Being an elf of so many years, kissing the young man was not an issue. He would be one of many kissed, not that any one kiss was less special than another.
Faramir readied himself, looking into Elrond’s eyes, and seemed to freeze. Elrond asked, “Are you waiting for me to make the final move? Or are you going to do things yourself?”
“Sorry… I am trying.” Faramir looked awkward and embarrassed; not only did he not know how to proceed with giving a kiss, but he was also not quite able to believe that he was about to kiss one of the most prestigious and well-known elves in all of Middle Earth who had lived through ages. But before he could think much further, the elf’s face got much closer to his own… he began to realize that Elrond was taking over, leaning over him slightly; he felt one of the elf’s strong hands take a hold of his waist and draw him close. The two of them made a strange contrast; Faramir, young and inexperienced, held safely in the arms of an elf who had seen much war and turmoil over the millenia and was more experienced in affection, kissing, and lovemaking than this man could ever begin to imagine.
Elrond could not deny feeling a bit conflicted at that very moment; he had cared for this boy since he was a child. He reminded himself that this kiss was only meant to give Faramir some clarity as to whether his fascination with male elves was a passing curiosity, or something he wished to explore further. Yes, this kiss is innocent. Elrond smiled to himself, as their faces got within inches of each other, eyes exploring each other. Elrond waited; he was not going to rush the boy’s first kiss, and knew that Faramir had to learn how to do it through his own practice and experience. He simply wanted to make it as easy as possible for Faramir to make his move, which he began to do quite naturally. Faramir’s approach appeared slow and gentle, and was doing well – until suddenly, just as the elf lord closed his eyes, Faramir lurched himself upward and pecked the elf quite hard on the lips. Elrond opened his eyes, slightly jarred, to see Faramir leaning away with his hands over his mouth.“That does not even count,” Elrond chuckled. “You are going to have to try again. More slowly, and more gentle. Take your time and enjoy it. Would you like me to show you, little one?” he asked, seeing that Faramir was blushing again. Faramir nodded, and Elrond slowly brought the boy’s hand down from his face. Pulling him close once again, Elrond leaned in and took his time. He laid one sweet, gentle and tender kiss perfectly on Faramir’s waiting lips. It took several long seconds before the elf gently pulled away. Faramir seemed to have forgotten to breathe for a moment. He could smell the elf’s unique scent. The feel of his velvet and silk robes was both comforting and somehow erotic, which enticed and confused him. Suddenly, he appeared to come to his senses, came out of the immersion of the experience. He jumped rather quickly away from Elrond.
“I cannot believe — I am so sorry, Elrond. I cannot believe I have done this to you.” He springs to his feet, light and spry and quick as always. The elf lord stands up as well and reaches out to calm the man down, asking “Faramir? You have done no wrong… I am sorry if I have confused you.”
“No, no – I’m fine. I’m just going to – I didn’t mean – I have to go out on a ride. I’ll return in time for dinner.” And with that, he fled, more confused and yet on top of the world than he thought he could possibly be all at once. Elrond merely attempted to adjust to what had occurred… and to ignore the feelings he would have to admit to experiencing.
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This was indeed a lovely story. I hope that you will continue with it.
— Ingrid Wednesday 30 December 2009, 13:40 #Thank you for letting us read it