Faramir Fiction Archive

Halfway Home (PG)

Written by Wingy

24 June 2007 | 1463 words

Rating: PG
Pairings: Celeborn/Faramir
Summary: Faramir finds out he isn’t Denethor’s second son. Features Haldir in small amounts.
Notes: This is my first challenge fic, and while I hope it fulfills the wishes of the sender, I also have to apologize for not having it beta-read, so continuity might be on the off-side. Probably is.

Written for the 2007 Midsummer Swap.

Request by Angelstar3999: I would like a story with Elrond/Faramir or Haldir/Faramir together, Faramir must not be mortal, he must be a half elf but with slightly pointed ears. Faramir must not know of this since his mother did not know and thinks his father is Denethor. Denethor is physically and mentally abusive to Faramir. Faramir must choose to belong to the first born after he finds out that his half elven and his father mus be alive maybe Celeborn or Glorfindel and they must find out that Faramir is his son. Denethor must never find out Faramir is not his son or something bad will happen. If Boromir is in this story put him with another man not Elfs for him. Faramir in relationship must be the submissive one.

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Halfway Home

No more than a minute after Faramir had shed his boots and sat heavily, bones aching, at his desk, there came a knock on the door, light and rapid. A message already.

“Lord Faramir?” Haldir. Hadn’t he just taken him to his rooms? What could it possibly be now? “The Lord Celeborn wishes to speak with you. I will escort you to him.” Haldir smiled, a slight turning up of his lips at their corners. “I’m sure you’ll find the news…enlightening.”

As the two walked, a passerby could see few differences, mostly the size and stature of the elf and man. Faramir had broader shoulders, and a more muscular build, though it was no less graceful than Haldir’s. The only thing that would tip anyone off, and it would have had to be an especially observant someone, was the fact that Faramir had pointed ears. True, the points were slight and not very noticeable unless you happened to be skilled at such or looking for them, but once you saw it, you didn’t forget it easily.

The elf, in contrast, was lean, sinewy, and impossibly fair. He was graced with the golden-blond hair of his people, but it shone like the sun in the white corridors of Minas Tirith.

“What was the news your lord wished me to hear, Haldir? I am weary and would like to rest before my furlough is over.” With a tight smile, Faramir inclined his head towards the elf. Irritating lout. Haldir returned the stiff smile with as much good grace as Faramir had put irritation into it.

“You will want to hear it from Celeborn’s mouth only. I confess, I did not wholly believe it when first I heard it, but it is truth. Here we are.” As the two turned the corner to face the ornately carved door to the guest rooms, it opened for them as if by premonition. Lord Celeborn, ruler of Lothlorien, stood on the threshold, still imposing in his formal silver robes.

Faramir only raised an eyebrow, and queried immediately of his host, “Tell me whatever seems to be urgent at this hour and leave it be so that I may find some rest, my lord. I am exceptionally weary from my duties.”

The elf lord inclined his head serenely, and swept his arm inward, inviting the pair to enter. He shut the door silently, settling the latch into place when both Haldir and Faramir had taken their seats. “Faramir, you are not aware of this, but I knew your mother.” Faramir had no open emotional response to this; he had not known Finduilas for very long, and none of that time had been recently.

When the man only blinked, Celeborn sighed and rested his hand on his chin. “You are not Denethor’s son.” That got a reaction from Faramir, quite a strong one at that. All the years he’d wished as a young child to be far removed from that man, fearful and stoic; here was his chance to believe in that delusion.

“You are mine. Finduilas was sent to Lothlorien when she fell ill, and though she was only here for a short time, the dalliance we shared was ultimately far more fateful than either of us had thought. Though, in hindsight, I doubt she knew; she never suspected it was not Denethor’s seed that produced you.”

Faramir’s mouth gaped open, eyes blank from shock. “This is…impossible. I have never left Gondor but for my duty as Captain in Ithilien. I could not have…” He trailed off, as the reality of the statement hit him full force.

Haldir chose that moment to speak what he’d been holding back since the moment he’d seen the steward’s youngest son. “My lord Faramir, has the steward never noticed you have the traits of our kind, or simply never cared?”

“That was uncalled for, Haldir. The boy has more than enough to think about without your comments as well.” Celeborn’s usually serene face was stern and creased with angry lines. He and Haldir stood toe-to-toe, emphasizing the difference in height of the two similarly colored elves, king and guardian.

“If you call Denethor a good father, you have no need to be telling Faramir that he’s not of Denethor’s line! All these years he’s been told he’s nothing, and now you’re confirming it! If that hasn’t damaged him, nothing I can say will.” Haldir wasn’t angry; he was irate. Fully under the belief that he was on the right side of the argument, he swirled through the doorway and slammed the heavy door behind him.

Standing in front of the mirror in his chamber, Faramir stood staring at the side of his face. Gazing unblinkingly at the point, however slight, on his ear, he ran his fingers over the shell of his ears, grazing ever so lightly the tips, and marveling at the sensation from the sensitive skin.

Then, as he sat heavily down, thinking that it made no difference and he was still needed as Captain, an inspiration dawned on him. He could leave Minas Tirith, and live with the elves. If he truly was half elven, and the son of the Lord of Lórien, he couldn’t be turned away, could he? Would the elves accept him as he was?

Faramir’s thoughts were interrupted by a quick, light knock on the door. How this mess started, he thought. He opened it and caught himself looking up into the calm face of his own father. “My lord, you needn’t come here—”

“I came of my own volition, Faramir.” Lifting Faramir’s head just slightly with his fingertips, Celeborn smiled and said, “You have your mother’s eyes. They were the same grey, deep and always thoughtful. I wonder if you remember her?”

Faramir’s face fell as he murmured, “No, I do not. I was too young when she died. She never quite recovered from childbirth, which my fath—the steward—deems a fault of mine. One of many.”

“Then he has deceived you. Your mother withered away because Denethor kept her locked in this city of stone. She longed for the sea, and it was her undoing. She traveled to us for a myriad of reasons, none of which was you.” He paused for a half-second, then spoke again, “Faramir, will you stay here? With Boromir and Denethor?
Or will you consent to come to Lothlorien and live there? You share our heritage, and there you can embrace it, and no one will criticize you for what and who you are. It pains me to see your face set in those somber lines, knowing they could be smoothed away if only you left this prison.”

Faramir was still and silent a full minute before he made any movement, which was backing into the room and dropping into a chair. The elf Lord followed and sat opposite the young man with shining black hair.

“Yes. I’ll go to Lothlorien. I…I don’t know what it will be like, but it must be nothing like this, if what you say is true.”

Celeborn smiled, pulling Faramir towards him out of his seat, and pressing a kiss to his forehead, rubbing the nape of his neck with a free hand. They sat and talked in this vein for some time, conversing quietly as father and son for the first time. Soon, though, because of the advanced hour, Faramir grew tired, and with a small hopeful glance at Celeborn, to see if he would stay, climbed into the bed. A quiet, fierce joy rose in the elf’s throat, blocking his breath.

Finally… he thought. On his way home. Truly home.

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