Faramir Fiction Archive

Ghost Dance (PG-13)

Written by Helmboy

13 November 2007 | 12496 words

Part Three

The stars overhead were bright against the inky blackness of the sky. He stopped in the middle of a stone garden and looked up, searching for the Mariner. The trees were too thick here and made even the smaller constellations difficult to find. As he stood staring, he felt rather than heard someone nearby. Turning and looking around, his keen eyes searching the darkness around him, he could see nothing. Willing himself to relax, he inhaled and exhaled deeply. Easy, he thought. You are just a bit unnerved.

“You appear to be tense, young man,” a voice nearby said softly. “Maybe I can be of service.”

Faramir started and glanced around, searching for the source of the voice. “Who are you?” he asked. “Show yourself.”

“Why?” the voice asked, emanating from another direction. “This is so much more fun.”

Faramir felt the hair on his arms rise. “You enjoy scaring people do you?” he asked, glancing all around him as he turned in a circle slowly. “Is this the way guests are treated here? You surprise me. I was told this place was the soul and epitome of hospitality to strangers.”

“It is,” the voice agreed amiably. “Are you frightened?”

“No,” Faramir said, his body wary but no longer scared or startled. “Do you like playing games then?”

“Yes.”

It was silent again. Crickets chirped and the water flowed, filling the air with dazzling sound effects.

“Come out and show yourself,” Faramir asked, moving toward a bench and sitting down tensely.

“What would be the fun of that,” the voice replied from behind him.

Faramir jumped in spite of himself and turned, catching his breath at the sight of the figure behind him. It was the great lord, the noble advisor to Lord Elrond. He was bathed in moonlight, the effect of it making him appear to have an aura of the brightest silvery light. He was smiling slightly, staring at Faramir with the most intense mirth-filled eyes. “Indeed,” he said softly. “What would be the fun of that?”

Faramir leaned forward, staring at Glorfindel, his heart racing. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Why, I am the man of your dreams,” Glorfindel said with a soft silvery chuckle.

Faramir rubbed the palms of his hands on his trousers and stood, licking his lips from nervous tension. “Do you always follow strangers?”

“Only those that invade my dreams,” Glorfindel replied.

“You invade mine. I do not recall summoning you,” Faramir said evenly.

Glorfindel laughed loudly, a musical sound that was pleasing to Faramir in spite of the impertinence of it. “You summon me? I go only where I wither. You came into my dreams and meditations. I admit, however, I was surprised to see you today. I must work on my intuition. I should have felt that you were coming and I did not.” He grinned. “You are a psychic blank spot to me. I am intrigued why that is so.”

Faramir moved closer, the bench the only thing separating them. “I have questions if I may.”

“And I,” Glorfindel replied. “But you must earn them.”

“Earn them?” Faramir replied confused.

“Earn them,” Glorfindel replied with a smile. Then he turned and stepped into the darkness of the foliage.

Faramir blinked and then moved, following swiftly. Ahead of him, illuminated by what appeared to be a self-generating light, Glorfindel hurried up a path, his robes flowing behind him like the wings of an angelic being. Faramir hurried along barely keeping up until they both came to a narrow footbridge over which they would have to cross to reach a winding path into huge trees that was on the other side of the gorge.

Glorfindel paused and looked back, noting that Faramir had just exited the trees they had journeyed through to reach this spot. With a smile and a flourish of robes, he turned and slipped gracefully across, stopping on the other side. “Come,” he called. “It is simple. Just do not look down.” A laugh indicative of music accompanied that bit of advice and Faramir paused at the start of the bridge.

He looked down. A moment of vertigo caught him and then he shook it off, stepping out onto the bridge. Carefully, slowly, he stepped across and when on the other side he paused and let out the breath he was holding. Glorfindel shook his head, snickering. “I said not to look down.”

Faramir glared up at him, suddenly angry. Glorfindel smiled at his rage and turned, heading off up the trail. Faramir, determined to outlast the elf took off after him. The pathway wound and wound and then it ended. Glorfindel was nowhere in sight and there was no place to go. Faramir, angrier yet, paused and cried out. “Where are you?” he asked. As he did, a rope slithered down before him and he looked up. Standing on a flet grinning down at him, Glorfindel replied. “I’m up here.” The smiling face disappeared into the darkness and he was then alone.

Staring at the rope, Faramir considered leaving the way he came but by now he was too intrigued, too invested and so he gripped the rope and began to climb upward. It swayed and his hands burned as he pulled himself up. Nearing the top a hand appeared and he took it, finding himself pulled up like a rag doll by someone with vastly superior strength. When he found his footing, he turned and stared at his benefactor.

Glorfindel was standing in the middle of the flet, his outer robes lying on a cot nearby. He watched Faramir with intense interest as the emotions of amazement, anger, curiosity and attraction filed across the youngster’s face. “Welcome to the edge of our domain.”

Faramir peered around himself and was amazed. Everywhere he looked he could see the home fires of the people who lived here, flickering lights that signaled habitation. He was high up in the trees, standing on a wooden platform that he knew was a traditional form of home for these folk. The house across the gorge was lit up and beautiful as were the stars and moon that were now uninhibited by trees and landforms. He could count them if he had an infinity of time to do so, so thick were they in the sky. Constellations were open for viewing and so was the Mariner. He sighed and then noted that Glorfindel was beside him, looking up as well. “Now you see why we like to live in trees.”

Faramir nodded. He sighed and turned to the bemused man standing beside him. “I do not know you.”

“You do. Just not in the flesh.”

“I do not know what you mean,” Faramir fibbed, turning away from the intensely blue, or were they gray eyes that seemed to see right through him into every private corner he had.

“You do,” Glorfindel corrected gently. “You come into my meditations and dreams. You come to places unbidden and I want to know how you do so, son of Gondor. We have never met but it appears we have always met.”

Faramir felt his cheeks become hot as embarrassment and discovery began to overtake him. “It is a long story.”

“Indeed,” Glorfindel said, pulling up a couple of stools. “The night is young. I am yours.” He sat and watched as Faramir reluctantly joined him. Faramir sat a long while thinking and then he began. “I read a book, one I was not supposed to open. At least Mithrandir said not to read this book.”

“You did.”

Faramir nodded.

“From cover to cover,” Glorfindel added.

Faramir nodded again. “He told me that nothing good would ever come from such a book. Our library and archive is very old and there are documents and books in there from before the First Age. A couple of them have unknown provenances. I was told that they must never be opened. I disobeyed.”

“How old were you when you disobeyed your master?” Glorfindel asked.

“Seventeen,” Faramir replied. He sighed. “I knew it was wrong but I was intrigued. So I read them and the knowledge was not something we were meant to know. I put it out of my mind as best I could.”

“Does Mithrandir know of this?”

Faramir felt himself flush even more. “No. I do not want him to know about it. I have never mentioned it. I do not want to disappoint him. He means something to me.”

Glorfindel nodded. “And where did this knowledge, these books come from?”

Faramir sighed, shaking his head sadly. “There was the thought that they were His, he who must not be named.”

“Ah,” Glorfindel said. “Him. Well, how does this relate to you invading my dreams?”

“I… I have…” Faramir stammered, gathering his thoughts. “I have difficulty in my family.”

Glorfindel nodded. “Your father.”

Faramir looked at Glorfindel with surprise. “How did you know?”

“Sadness surrounds you like a cloud. Even as you meander through my dreams so do I through yours. Your father is a harsh and demanding taskmaster. I doubt without a thrashing that he will learn what a good son you are.”

Faramir flushed. “He is a man with many burdens.”

“And two sons,” Glorfindel interjected. “A man does not abandon a child no matter how old they get nor how difficult their circumstances. This knowledge you have learned. Tell me about it.”

Faramir mused and smiled slightly. “It’s the simplest thing, the easiest and least… traumatic thing really. I project myself out of my body.”

Glorfindel considered this and smiled. “A clever trick. I can do the same as can many of my kind. That you can as well is a neat trick indeed for a man.”

“It lets me go to places I could never hope to see in my lifetime. My father does not give me credit to be what Gondor needs when the call comes. My brother is the one whom he loves best and depends upon the most. It is a burden for Boromir but he bears it from love and duty.”

“You love your brother,” Glorfindel said quietly.

“He is my greatest friend. He has always been my protector. I love him more than anyone or anything, more than king and country,” Faramir said, pausing and flushing with embarrassment once again.

“Do not be embarrassed. Your love for your brother is sweet and good. And you look beautiful when you blush,” Glorfindel said with a grin.

Faramir felt the fire on his face deepen and he looked at his hands, folded together in front of him. “He makes life good for me. Always.”

“And your father, if he knew of this ability,” Glorfindel replied.

Faramir sat straighter, his face darkening with the worry of such a thing. “He would find a way to make it serve his needs, thinking that in the doing of it he was serving Gondor. He would taunt the Enemy and bring havoc down upon Gondor, I fear.”

Glorfindel nodded. Then he rose and walked to the edge of the flet, standing silently for a moment. “I know about it.”

Faramir glanced sharply upward, staring warily at the tall figure that appeared so benign a moment before. “You do,” he replied, an edge to his tone. Rising, Faramir stood, ready for what may come.

Glorfindel turned and looked at Faramir, appraising him. Then he smiled. “I can keep this to myself. For a price.”

Faramir felt his expression harden into disappointment and bitter anger. “Really. And what might that cost me?” he asked, his voice cold and hard.

Glorfindel moved to stand before him, his face a mask. He looked at Faramir a long time, neither man looking away and then he smiled slightly. “A kiss,” he whispered.

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