Faramir Fiction Archive

I, Faramir: the latter days (R)

Written by Surreysmum

02 April 2011 | 14742 words

Part 4

1st Narvinyë, 35 IVth Age Palace of Emyn Arnen.

My dearest ‘Mir,

You seemed a little perplexed when I told you I would write a letter for you to read once the first pain of my passing has retreated. But let me try, my love, to take care of you one more time. For that has been my greatest joy: looking after you as best I can. You have been worth it a thousand times over, and have repaid me in hundreds of ways you likely have no idea of.

If I know you at all, I suspect you are spending many hours by yourself in a library just now, chasing your grief away with that wonderful life you live inside your own mind. I am grateful to the Valar you have such occupations, my dearest, and I have never begrudged you those pursuits, though I was never inclined to follow you into them. But now I am no longer there to chivvy you out of your books to eat a meal or relax in the company of friends; I can no longer chase you out of the door and on to your horse to take some exercise and fresh air. Please keep my voice in your head, ‘Mir, nagging woman that I am, and remember to take comfort from others’ company as well as your own, hmm? I do hope you are not still at Emyn Arnen, but are staying for a while with our son or some of our friends.

You are not an old man, ‘Mir, not by any standard. I saw you beginning to feel that way when our first grandchild was born, and I deplore it, for you are still a fine, strong, attractive man with, the Valar willing, thirty or more good years of life before you. I am leaving too soon, and we both know it. Do not, I implore you, turn that unhappy truth into an even unhappier falsehood – that you are living too long, or without purpose.

‘Mir, I am secure in my knowledge of your deep and abiding love. You do not need to prove it to me by rejecting love and intimacy, if you should desire it, from others. The most important thing is that you should truly desire it, my love, and not feel merely driven to it by loneliness or others’ importunities. I know you have never been one to treat the bonds of affection lightly or stray without thought for the sake of bodily pleasures. Through all the years of our marriage you were faithful to me, and I accepted that as my due, and gave you the same consideration according to the customs of my people. But I am no longer there to be faithful to, ‘Mir, and when we are reunited by Eru at the End of Days, it will be in a place and a way that is incomprehensible and beyond all earthly customs. Though I want very much that you keep my memory alive – and I know you will – you must not stop living because of some misguided notion that you must be faithful to my memory. That will not do, and I won’t stand for it, ‘Mir! If you are so foolish, expect nothing more from me in the House of Ilúvatar than a clip about the ear!

There, I cannot say it any more plainly, love. If you feel that you want to do so, marry again, or take a lover if you prefer. You do me no harm, and possibly yourself great good, by doing so. Be your own cautious, careful self, but do what you must, and know that I approve.

I wish I did not have to leave you, ‘Mir, best of husbands, best of fathers, best of men. Of all the cruelties inflicted by my illness, this is the cruelest. I need not protest how much I love you. I know you know.

May the Valar care for you and protect you always,
Your Wynnie.

7 Nénimë, 35th year of the 4th Age, Minas Tirith

I put Éowyn’s letter down beside me. My eyes were overflowing with tears. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to have her sitting next to me so that I could embrace her, kiss her, and tease her for the foolish notion that I could ever wish for anyone else in my heart or in my arms. Still looking after me, even after she is gone.

She is right, though. Next time Ana the Library Elf quietly suggests I might leave my books to join company for dinner in the Great Hall, I will listen. And I will take the twins out tomorrow to build a snow-troll, as Eldarion suggested the other night.

I have put Éowyn’s letter into the breast pocket of my nightshirt, next to my heart. And even though I have been weeping, I think I will sleep well tonight. I always do after Wynnie sets me right with one of her scoldings!

17 Nénimë, 35th year of the 4th Age, Minas Tirith

This afternoon I was working at my usual table in the library when the door burst open, and two huge piles of unwieldy books staggered in, completely obscuring their bearer. I dashed over just in time to steady the piles down on to a table and then look up into the flushed and disgruntled face of the King of Gondor. He muttered a less than royal curse under his breath.

“How fare you, Aragorn?” I asked, a little amused.

“Not well, in truth, Faramir,” he sighed, seating himself and running a hand through his already unruly hair. “I don’t know how you used to do this – I have spent half the day searching through these fusty old tomes, and still I cannot find what I need.”

“What are you looking for?” I asked, intrigued despite myself. It takes quite a lot to put Aragorn so obviously out of temper.

“Our dear Eastern neighbours are challenging the border,” he said. “Of course, it wouldn’t have anything at all to do with the gold ore recently discovered in the Valley of Daer Grath, which was ceded to us hundreds of years ago! It must be recorded somewhere – truly, the last thing we need is a war over something that should be so clearly beyond dispute. But I just cannot find it!”

I considered. “Those borders were surveyed about the fifth century of the Third Age, and I do not believe the original treaties have survived. But Daerwhinion’s Second Chronicle reproduces a lot of material from that age at great length…”

“Daerwhinion! Why didn’t I think of that?” Aragorn leapt up and went to the shelves, pulling down a huge tome amidst a small dust storm.

“I think there are some accompanying maps in the rolled parchment cabinet,” I said, going to look.

It took only a few minutes after that to find what we were looking for. “There!” exclaimed Aragorn triumphantly, his forefinger bumping mine as they both descended at the same moment upon the same point on the map. We grinned at each other. “And here is the clause in the treaty that confirms it.” He clapped me hard on the shoulder. “Thank the Valar you’re here, ‘Mir.” He rolled the map carefully, then tucked Daerwhinion under one arm and the map under the other. “I’m going straight to the Ambassador. Let’s see what he has to say to this!”

At the open door, he paused and turned back to me with a smile that seemed almost bashful. “I’ve missed you,” he said, then hurried off.

As I went back to my own pursuits, I caught myself humming under my breath.

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