Faramir Fiction Archive

Mending a Life (R)

11 March 2010 | 1454 words | Work in Progress

Title: Mending a Life
Author: Leianora
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Faramir

How does love come about? Perhaps it is ordained, or maybe it just happens.

“No! No! No! You orc-brained son of a mangy three-legged dog! Do it again!”

The shout from the weapons master made Faramir son of Denethor blush hotly and lower his sword in shame. The man seemed to do nothing but bellow, which did nothing for Faramir’s nerves. Naturally, the more distraught he became, the more he tended to do something wrong. That in turn ended in more yelling from Weapons Master Curufin.

When Faramir had finally completed the pattern of block and thrust to his satisfaction, however, there were no words of praise to balance against the words of outrage. By now, Faramir had grown accustomed to such behavior; for his father treated him with equal disdain. Indeed, the only person in the entire city who loved him without condition and in spite of his many blunders in the art of soldiery was his brother Boromir.

Just after Faramir turned fifteen, he still struggled to perform deeds that would win the praise of his father, but was unsuccessful. He stayed as quiet and kept out of court affairs as much as he could. When the enemies of Gondor sought to invade and conquer, he had no choice but to take up arms in defense of his realm. After much arguing and cajoling from Boromir, he was attached to the company wherein his brother was captain.

It was during the fifth month of the bloodiest combat Gondor had known in the last six generations that men from the lost Dunedain of Arnor came to the nation’s aid. Wise and bold was their captain, a man who named himself Thorongil, and as he fought alongside the Steward of Gondor’s men all grew to love and respect him. His tactics were sound and won Gondor many victories. What truly gained the devotion of the common people as well as the soldiers, however, was his ability to heal those who were sick or wounded during the many battles which followed his unlooked for arrival.

Indeed, the only person who seemed to dislike this mysterious captain was Denethor. Yet since he was the Steward of Gondor and sought only to end the fighting, he mostly kept his displeasure to himself. As Thorongil and his men won victory after victory, the people of Gondor began remembering stories of old concerning the kings in times long passed. They recalled tales of how the kings were healers of the land and the people, and many of them began to wonder if an heir of those kings had come among them at last.

For his part, Thorongil did not seek to gain riches or fame for himself, which made the people respect him even more. When the war finally ended nearly two years later, the Umbarians had been so badly defeated that it would be nearly impossible for them to rebuild their armies and attack their neighbors and their longtime enemies for the next three generations. The deciding victory that ended the war was an audacious tactic Thorongil had devise. He was sure it would succeed, but whether his certainty was borne of foresight or just dumb luck none could say. He and two dozen men representing Gondor and her allies somehow slipped across the border and managed to destroy Umbar’s navy. Every ship was burned, and all of the sailors who had sought to defend the shipyards were slain to the last man. Only three men from Thorongil’s group were lost that day. The Umbarians were so shocked by this daring ploy that their soldiers slunk away during four consecutive nights and were never seen again by anyone.

Gondor’s people rejoiced even as they grieved for their losses. It was at that time that the people began declaiming Thorongil as their king. He accepted the praise of the people and admitted that he was indeed the heir of Elendil and Isildur. The people became ecstatic upon hearing the truth, but The man known as Thorongil, who now called himself Aragorn son of Arathorn, did not take up his crown immediately. Instead, he went among the people helping to rebuild houses and shops, easing the pain of their wounds, both emotional and physical, and generally lending his aid wherever he could. This endeared him to his people even more.

When Aragorn, who was also called Elessar; or elfstone, assumed the kingship a month after the beginning of the New Year, many delegations from other kingdoms began arriving to offer their congratulations. The nobles pledged their fealty to him, and celebrations went on around the nation for over a fortnight. Two months later, the living symbol of Gondor, a white tree which was a seedling brought from Valinor was found growing near the King’s Hallow. It was a sapling of not more than four seasons, but that made it even more of a blessing; for the tree would live to rekindle the nation and the line of kings would continue. This seemed to be a sign, for Aragorn began making mysterious preparations for yet another big event. The palace staff threw themselves into the spirit of the occasion; for their king’s joy was infectious and ran deep.

Less than three months after that, a large delegation of elves from Rivendell and Lothlorien arrived at the city of Minas Tirith which had been renamed Minas Anor. This had been the original name of the capital, and the restoration of that name fulfilled a prophecy which stated that a king of old would one day return to heal the people of Gondor, reunite the realms of Gondor and Arnor, and renew both kingdoms. Into the newly restored city rode the delegation of elves that, as it turned out, were escorting the elvin woman whom Aragorn would take as his wife. She was Arwen, daughter of Elrond Half-elvin and sister of the twins Elrohir and Elladan, both of whom were famous for their prowess as warriors and healers. And so, on the day of midsummer, Aragorn and Arwen were wedded to one another by Elrond himself. Again, the nation celebrated their good fortune as their king rejoiced that his lifelong dream of restoring the glory of Gondor and Arnor had finally come to pass. Having achieved his goal, he was now permitted by Lord Elrond to wed his daughter whom he had loved for well over 40 years.

Faramir was amazed by the return of Gondor’s king and the events which followed. He found that the king was compassionate to even the lowliest of servants, and that pleased him. The only thing that marred his happiness during this time was the dreaded practice with the Weapons Master, and being in the presence of his scornful father.

The king missed very little and sought to draw the young man from his shyness, but Faramir was so awed by him that he could not bring himself to stay calm in his presence. One of his father’s main complaints was Faramir’s indolence. As far as Denethor was concerned, his son was entirely too slothful. He often missed lessons or meals for no apparent reason. This, however, was not the case. For most of his life, Faramir had suffered severe headaches which could not be explained or aided by any of the healers.

Most of the courtiers thought that these headaches were in his mind; and that if he would but try he could make himself stop having them. Some, like his father, believed that he was not truly ill. They felt that he was malingering in order to keep himself secluded. Again, the only person who seemed to believe him was Boromir. If he tried to defend his younger brother to their father, however, Denethor would become enraged. Only when he would speak in his brother’s behalf would the steward shout at his oldest son.

It was during one of the many feasts that followed the queen’s arrival when the unthinkable occurred. Faramir had been suffering from one of his worst headaches. The healers had made him drink some truly disgusting tonics to help ease the pain, but none of them worked. His father had forced him to attend the feast in spite of his discomfort.

As soon as it was possible to do so, he tried to slip away and find somewhere quiet to ease the pounding in his head. As he made his way through the crowd of revelers, a bolt of pain caught him completely off guard. Dizziness assailed him and his vision blurred. The next thing he knew he was falling. He landed, quite literally, at the feet of one of the elves and lost consciousness immediately. Once he came to himself, shame flooded his mind and caused his face to become warm with intense embarrassment.

NB: Please do not distribute (by any means, including email) or repost this story (including translations) without the author's prior permission. [ more ]

Enjoyed this story? Then be sure to let the author know by posting a comment at https://www.faramirfiction.com/fiction/mending-a-life. Positive feedback is what keeps authors writing more stories!