Faramir Fiction Archive

Simulacra (NC-17)

09 November 2011 | 30013 words | Work in Progress

II

Several years post Ring War

‘My Lord, someone approaches.’

The young Steward’s eyes snapped up and his face conveyed that he was listening intently. He nodded.

‘Those are no Orcs,’ he replied, still listening. ‘They are elves… and they are friends. Old friends,’ he murmured under his breath as faces flashed in his mind.

Puzzled, the ranger watching him wondered yet again whether the other man could actually scent the wind himself, like an elf or a wild animal. Sometimes his abilities were just too uncanny. But then, he supposed, being raised in constant danger had its consequences. It was good to have their former captain out with them again, if only for a few days. He could see it did both his Lord and the men well.

Unconsciously Faramir brushed back a strand of his unruly golden hair and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Old friends indeed. How was this going to play out? he wondered. A muscle in his jaw flickered as his teeth began to clench.

The company of elves crested the ridge and drew rein a respectful distance from the humans. Their leader dismounted to call his greeting to the Ranger captain. Shoulders squared and chin raised, he drew a breath – and stopped short. As his eyes focused on the ranking man before him, Haldir’s arrogant face broke into a wide grin. ‘Faramir!’

The two leaders strode forward to clasp arms and eyes in a warriors’ greeting before Haldir pulled Faramir into a tight bear hug – a most un-elf-like gesture. ‘It is so good to see you!’ the elf murmured into his old friend’s leathered shoulder. Faramir unthinkingly returned the welcome embrace for a long moment before Haldir felt him stiffen and pull back. The two separated and stood, eyes searching faces for news.

‘Well met, my friend,’ the Steward said at last. ‘Well met indeed. It has been far too long.’ (A recrimination? Haldir wondered.) ‘But how is it we did not know you were coming? Is all well in Lórien?’

‘Aye, indeed. The orcs are subdued, the lands are safe, the crops are planted. In fact, things are so peaceful as to be almost boring for those of us who live by fighting. We weary our graceful Lord and Lady with our fidgeting.’ The discontent of Haldir’s drawled words was belied by the characteristic sneering half-smile slowly creeping across his features.

‘And so we have been sent abroad and come to you for a social visit, by your grace. I bring with me several scholars and bards who would spend time in Gondor’s famous archives and gracious halls, as well as lovers of plants eager to share in the wonders and rebuilding of Ithilien’s storied gardens. And also some adventurers and friends of the Court, who want merely to be here and see those they care for and enjoy company in peace and leisure for a change.’ At this Haldir gestured toward his brothers, Rúmil and Orophin, who now stood a pace behind him. They bowed their heads and clasped fists to hearts in respectful greeting. Faramir thought Orophin’s salute ended in a subtle gesture that included Haldir was of this subgroup as well.

Faramir smiled warmly and nodded to them and to the larger company in greeting.

‘Welcome. Brothers of Haldir and friends of us all. We are glad you have come. Come, let us escort you to the White City. Aragorn, Arwen and the others will be eager to see you.’

The young Steward turned toward the path with quiet thanks to the Valar that his position and training provided ready words for him to speak at times like these, when he had no words of his own.

Haldir fell into step beside Faramir as the ranger guard fanned out around the elven travelers, moving from duty and habit rather than need. He lowered his voice that they might have some privacy.

‘My friend, it has been too long. How goes it? Are you well?’ A stupid question. Could my phrasing be worse? This he can answer only with trivialities or lies.

Memories of the last time they had parted flooded Haldir’s mind. It had been a few weeks after the celebrations of Aragorn’s ascension had concluded. Although they had longed to stay, Haldir and his brothers had been called back to Lórien to continue clearing the surrounding area of remaining orc bands. Haldir had been loath to leave his young lover, who had only just begun to heal from years of torment at the hands of his father, and from darker terrors before, of which only Haldir and a few others had known. He had left once before, as the War of the Ring demanded, and now knew the suffering that decision had caused Faramir. The young man’s most recent scars had still been fresh and his smiles too haunted for the Guardian to ride away with any peace. But ride away he had.

And now several long years had passed – no time at all for an immortal, but for a human, and one with so few others to turn to?

Haldir searched his friend’s profile for signs of anger or absolution. He was not sure which he craved more. He feared Faramir’s anger or bitter withdrawal — in truth he felt he deserved it. He had known his friend needed him. Had known Faramir had no one else left to trust, no one else who had lived through what he had and who could hold him without needing an explanation. Faramir would not explain again, would not reach out again – Haldir knew this. (Or had at the time. How much could have changed?)

And yet he had chosen to fulfill his duty to his Lord and Lady instead – a sworn duty, to be sure, but one a grieving lover might have hoped he would forsake. One his Lady might have urged him to postpone, in fact, had he but asked. And he had longed to, longed to stay behind and tend the young Steward, help him learn to trust again, tell him the world was not such an ugly place, and to prove it.

Yet the immortal warrior was deeply afraid to do that. Afraid of failing. Afraid of making Faramir more vulnerable to a world he could not control.

Afraid for himself as well.

So part of him had been relieved at the Lady’s summons, and he had gone. Knowing his Lady, she had called in order to be sure his eyes were open to the paths before him and chose wisely. He had chosen the familiar path of duty, and of fear, meaning soon to return. If she had disapproved, she had never shown it, and he had never asked. He was finally here, as he had promised, though several years late.

Now Haldir also feared Faramir’s understanding, his forgiveness. Boromir had once worried to him about the ease with which his beautiful brother shrugged off or forgave the most grievous injuries, smiling at those around him while hiding yet more pain somewhere deep inside, using it to fortify a wall between himself and others. To be forgiven for leaving would mean that Haldir himself had become one more person Faramir held at a distance, one more reason for him not to trust, no more than a passing fling at a time of need. Their future time together would be no more than time spent in company, yet alone; the times before, a lie. The world would indeed be an ugly place. Haldir feared that even more.

Beside him, Faramir’s mouth twitched in a sad half smile. The muscles of his eyelids relaxed as if he were focusing on something beautiful, yet distant.

‘Am I ‘well,’ Haldir? I find the word has a new meaning now that the world is changed. I am no longer so sure what it means. Time passes, however. Time always passes. And the mountains we dream of, and that seem to loom ahead of us, we climb with such difficulty, terror and triumph. And then we journey onward until they are but a painting in the distance behind, memories of selves we used to be. In the end I find it more useful to focus upon either the stars above or my feet below, so that I may know where I am truly going and not stumble upon the way.’

Faramir’s words could have seemed either wry witticism or philosophic vagary. Haldir heard them at another level altogether, and ice slid down his chest. In the silence he swallowed at length.

‘Could you not focus instead upon those beside you on the path?’

Without turning toward his companion, Faramir raised an eyebrow.

‘And who might that be?’

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