Faramir Fiction Archive

Ghost Dance (PG-13)

Written by Helmboy

13 November 2007 | 12496 words

Epilogue

The sun warmed his face and he opened his eyes, raising his head and shielding himself from the brightness with his arm. Raising up on one elbow, he turned and looked toward the window where Glorfindel stood, his hands on the sill and his gaze cast out over the great plain beyond the city gates. He was clad to his waist, his tunic and other garments lying on a chair near the cold hearth.

Faramir studied Glorfindel, noting the broad set of his shoulders and the flow of muscles that formed his powerful physique. They were long muscles, the kind one has when running is a large part of your exercise. He had a bowman’s shoulders and the slight bunch of muscles in one shoulder rather than both due to wielding a sword. His hair was braided into one long thick golden plait and it fell down the length of his back to nearly his waist. A silver band, slim and marked with Elvish lettering rounded his right bicep. On his back, a faint white jagged mark scored his shoulder, extending nearly six inches along his shoulder. Other than that faint blot, the souvenir of some ancient battle, he was free of blemish. It was remarkable consider the life of difficulty and the end he had received that he should be thus.

“The sun is cresting the far away mountains,” Glorfindel said, knowing instinctively that Faramir was stirring. He felt connected to the youngster emotionally after the night before.

“You are preparing to leave,” Faramir said, sitting up, the white sheets that tangled him falling away to his lap.

Glorfindel turned and looked at Faramir, memorizing the curve of his cheek, the faint blush of his light skin, the soft wave of his hair. All of this, he remarked into memory as he mentally prepared to leave. “You look especially beautiful this morrow.”

Faramir flushed slightly, smiling slightly. “As do you.”

Glorfindel moved closer, stopping at the foot of the bed. “Don’t move.” Faramir stilled, his eyes never leaving Glorfindel’s. “I want to look at you.” The older man sighed, shaking his head. “You are beautiful. Your eyes, your emotions are there for anyone to see. I will miss you.”

“I wish I could come with you,” Faramir said, longing in his voice.

“It is not to be,” Glorfindel said, sitting on the end of the bed. “You may come to Imladris and I may come here. That is all there is in these harsh times. All else is folly.”

Faramir stared at his foot, which protruded from the sheets. The night before was a lush and sensual blur. “Did you sleep well?”

Glorfindel smiled. “Have you not heard? We do not sleep.”

“I had,” Faramir said, smiling slightly. “Nice trick, that.”

“We rest by contemplating beauty,” Glorfindel said, his features becoming serious once more. “Your hair, I see it and touch it, the softness of it, it fills my senses. Your skin is soft as well, soft and pale. Your lips, your soft lips… when I contemplate these things, when I touch them if only in my memories, then I feel rested.” He was silent for a moment. “All of this I think about when I am tired and it refreshes me.”

Faramir sighed, shaking his head. “If I think about you, it makes me sad.”

“I am sorry,” Glorfindel replied. A rap on the door broke the moment and Glorfindel rose, walking to his clothing and stepping into the bathing room that joined his suite.

“Come,” Faramir said when the older man was out of sight.

The door opened slowly and Boromir’s face appeared. “You awake?”

“Barely,” Faramir replied, smiling faintly.

“Rise and shine,” Boromir said, walking into the room and pausing at the foot of the bed. His eyes roved his brother’s figure, noting red marks on his upper arms. He did not bother to ask about them, shoving such thoughts from his mind. “Come and dine with me.”

“And Father?” Faramir asked, his voice filled with uncertainty. “What of him?”

“At this moment, I care not about him,” Boromir replied, bitterness in his voice. “He sits at table silently. He watches me with his eyes and says nothing. I believe he has found a newer and more different world this morrow than yesterday. Come down with me.”

“I will come,” Faramir said, nodding.

“Good,” Boromir said, relaxing visibly. He turned and paused at the door, looking back at his brother. “I do not know what there is between you and Lord Glorfindel, Faramir, but I am happy if it pleases you.”

Faramir looked at his brother, a smile forming on his face. “Thank you,” he replied softly. Boromir nodded, shifting his feet uncertainly and then turned to go. “Do hurry.”

The door closed and Glorfindel stepped out, fully dressed. He smiled at Faramir and moved to the door himself. “Do not tarry,” he said with a chuckle.

Faramir nodded and smiled as the great lord slipped into the hall.

Faramir entered the room side-by-side with Lord Glorfindel, sitting together at the table. There were others there, some eating already and others starting and all nodded and greeted the two as if the night before had never happened. At the head of the table, his dark eyes fixed upon the two, Denethor sat nursing a glass of wine. Boromir, sitting in his usual place at his father’s side, nodded to his brother as he and the elf lord took places of honor too.

Breakfast progressed, conversation flowed and when it was concluded, Faramir stood. “Lord Glorfindel has to return to Rivendell this day.”

Everyone looked at Faramir, expressions of sincere disappointment and nervous anticipation lining the table all around. Denethor’s glass paused on its journey to his mouth and he glanced at Glorfindel, who sat completely composed in his seat next to Faramir. “I am honored to have helped host your visit, my Lord, and I hope you return again,” he said with conviction.

“I am honored to have a chance to visit the city again after all these long years,” Glorfindel said, “and it will be my greater honor to return.” Glorfindel rose and turned to Denethor, who sat staring with something akin to dread. “Your son is my good friend. It has been my personal pleasure to visit him in his city and his home. I will convey the hospitality of Gondor to my Lord, Elrond. I extend the courtesy of our hospitality to Gondor and your family. I would consider it a personal honor to be able to see members of this great house visit our valley more often. The long ties between our people are legendary and should be upheld and treasured now as they were then.”

Denethor sat silently, the muscles of his jaw working. Then he set his cup down and stood, malevolency in every movement of his body. “Thank you, Lord Glorfindel. I shall consider this and hope at some point in time I can avail myself of the famed hospitality of Lord Elrond. Please convey my personal regards to his person.”

Glorfindel nodded, watching as Denethor turned and without another word, left the room. Faramir let out the breath he had been holding and noticed that his brother did also. Turning to Glorfindel, he sighed. “You will be going now?” he asked sadly.

Glorfindel nodded, his own expression equally sad. “If you will do me the honor.”

“I will,” he said, turning and following Glorfindel as he walked up the table to Boromir. Extending his hand, he gripped Boromir’s arm in a warrior’s grasp.

“Thank you for coming,” Boromir said, nodding. “I am honored to meet you.”

“And I, you,” Glorfindel said. “I am glad that Faramir has such a brother as you.”

Boromir flushed slightly, nodding. “It is I who am the lucky one.”

Faramir smiled at his brother, a look of naked admiration on his face and then he turned and followed Glorfindel to the door and beyond, into the courtyard where his horse waited saddled. Pausing by his steed, he turned and sighed, smiling sadly at his lover. “I will miss you, Faramir.”

“There are always dreams,” Faramir replied. “When you are far enough away, check your bags. I put the books into them.”

“They will never see the light of day,” he replied. Then he leaned in and they kissed, a soft sweet kiss. Leaning his forehead against Faramir’s, they stood together for a moment. Then with a sigh and a smile, he turned and mounted up, taking a handful of his horse’s mane. “I will write to you.”

“And I, you,” Faramir said, smiling.

“Or better yet,” Glorfindel said, smiling. “I will see you in my dreams.”

Faramir chuckled and watched as the horse turned, beginning the long trek to the main gate below and the cross country trip to Elvish lands in the west. Faramir stood at the ramparts, watching as Glorfindel wend his way downward and until he was gone from sight on the vast plain before the city. He stood there a long time after, his mind filled with memories and worries about the days to come.

“You are back.”

“Yes.”

“And your trip? Was it profitable?”

“Yes.”

“Minas Tirith, is it what you remembered?”

“Yes.”

Erestor paused, staring at his foil, considering the disquiet that seemed to enrapt him. “You appear to be distressed.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You may talk to me about what ails you, Glorfindel. I can listen well.”

“Yes.”

He paused. “Is that, ‘yes, I will talk to you’ or ‘yes, you are a good listener’,” he asked.

“Yes.”

Erestor moved to sit on the bench beside his friend, placing his hand on Glorfindel’s arm. “You do this to yourself and you wonder why it hurts.”

Glorfindel continued to look at the toe of his boot.

“I am sorry.”

Glorfindel looked at Erestor and shook his head. “How do they do it? How do they live such pain-filled lives? How can they not understand that all that matters is the people you love and have in your life?”

Erestor shook his head. “They are human,” he said softly. “You are not.”

“It should not matter,” Glorfindel said, sighing softly. “I love someone who does not have the love of his father. How can you not love your son?”

Erestor shook his head again. “I do not pretend to understand the foibles of men. I am sorry for your pain.”

Glorfindel sighed and nodded. “So am I.”

Erestor rose and turned to Glorfindel. “Come. I will fix you tea.”

Glorfindel grinned in spite of himself. “You always think tea fixes everything.”

“It usually does,” he said, pulling Glorfindel to his feet. “Come. Tell me about perfect buttocks and the foibles and follies of men. I shall tell you of inventories and menus and you will feel better.”

“Do you think so?” Glorfindel said, chuckling for a moment as he turned and followed his friend.

“Works for me,” Erestor said, smiling.

Glorfindel smiled. “Ah, you give me a glimpse behind your armor plating.”

“For this one time only,” Erestor replied, opening the door for the two of them.

“Oh please,” Glorfindel said, pausing and sweeping his hand before him. “Ladies first.”

Erestor, a prim look of brittle triumph on his exotic face nodded. “Pearls before swine,” he said.

Glorfindel’s laughter could be heard all over the house.

Ghost Dance finis

11/12/07 © arcpus@yahoo.com or elwingdior@gmail.com

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