Faramir Fiction Archive

The Seventh Star (G)

Written by Nerey Camille

04 September 2011 | 954 words

Summary: Faramir has ever found comfort in his six stars, but now that isn’t enough any more.

Pairings: none, really, since it all happens in Faramir’s mind.
Rating: G.
Disclaimer: Gondor and Faramir belong to Tolkien. No profit is being made.

Notes: This is a gift to the wonderful Faramir Fiction Archive for its seventh anniversary. It took me a little more than I expected, but on the other hand, it’s got 700 words in addition to the seven “stars” in it. I’d like to thank our two generous administrators, Iris and Minx, for their dedication and their work, and of course all the people who write here and make this community what it is. I do hope you enjoy this piece of fanfiction, and needless to say, a comment would be very much appreciated.

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The Lord Faramir was walking in the garden of the Houses of Healing, and he felt life run new in his veins, and he was not alone, for the six stars that ever shone on his path were with him.

His mother. Though she had died when he was but a child, her invisible presence was his greatest source of tenderness. To her he owed any kindness that his heart held, the strength to remain gentle in the face of hardships. Without Finduilas Faramir’s soul would long since have become hard and cold.

His nurse. How often she had consoled him, how many times he had found in her bosom a safe haven while her small, warm hands had dried his tears, even after he had grown into a man! She would stand up even to Denethor for him, and her stalwart affection was something Faramir was endlessly grateful for.

His aunt Sidhiel, wife of Imrahil of Dol Amroth. Her husband called her “the Lady of Adamant”, for whenever there was danger or pain, only the smallest hardness in her serene features showed, nay, hinted to the attentive eye that her countenance was the result of an effort of will rather than a naturally relaxed expression. It was Sidhiel who had put Faramir back on the saddle after his mother’s death, and every time he had needed it since. He had learned from her courage, strength of will, endurance and self-control, and though these were not virtues he was glad of exerting, there was no denying he would have died long ago without them.

Alassiel. A beautiful, proud and intelligent face, an enticing body that her colourful garments enhanced rather than concealed. She was the most famous courtesan in Minas Tirith, and also a lover of all arts and knowledge. Faramir had been introduced to her when he reached manhood, as most men of the noble houses and his own brother. Many things she had shown him, and they had become friends. To Faramir she embodied talent, and whatever he knew of pleasure, and a freedom greater than he would ever have himself.

Nesseldë. At least that was how he called her, for he did not know her name. On his way back from a bloody skirmish, he had wandered into a field to ask for water. And there she was, a child climbing down a tree, smiling at him while she chewed an apple she had just plucked. Her skin was dirty and her clothes ragged, but Faramir would never forget her coal eyes shining and her dark locks dancing in the wind as she touched his horse and confidently asked for a ride. Never in his life had he felt so clearly why he and his men fought, why they devoted themselves to that hateful and dangerous life: so that the humble people in Gondor could live in peace and their children could have such beaming smiles, even under the shadow of Mordor.

Nostariel, the forgotten princess of Númenor whose story moved Faramir to tears every time he read it. How she had opposed her King and kin when persecutions started against those who respected the Valar. How she had fallen in love with an Elf and faced banishment to protect him and his people. How she had remained true to her convictions to the bitter end. Whenever he felt lost, her tale would fill him with the force to do what was right.

Six stars, each of them an amaranthine source of comfort. Yet it was not enough now. He felt as if only the borders of his heart were lightened and warm, while its core remained in shadow and chill. Against the present darkness his stars gave him strength and courage, but no joy.

A voice calling his name distracted him from his sombre thoughts. He turned and beheld a cascade of gold around a pale face, and his heart was pierced, for the maiden before him was the fairest and most sorrowful he had ever seen. She needed healing; yet even now she seemed to shine Faramir’s night away. And suddenly he felt that the long wait he had never been aware of was over.

Note about the original characters and their names: All names that aren’t canon are taken from the “Elvish Name Translations” dictionary of Arwen-Undómiel.com.

Imrahil was married, but as far as I know the name of his wife was not mentioned anywhere in Tolkien’s work. Therefore I called her Sidhiel, “peace”, and gave her the traits she has in this story.

Alassiel (“joy, joyful”), Nesseldë (“young girl”) and Nostariel (“woman of noble birth”) are entirely original characters. Nostariel could have been close kin to Ar-Adûnakhôr, the twentieth King of Númenor and the first to persecute the Elves. While no sister or daughter is mentioned in Ar-Adûnakhôr’s genealogy, it is not unreasonable to suppose he might have had one.

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

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