Post by Admin on Dec 31, 2020 23:37:45 GMT
Author: Lorienstale
Ranking: 2nd place
Summary : Faramir is given a choice… The choice to live or die… He has to pick one now, but some people are there to assure themselves that he does the right thing...
Rating : T
Characters : Faramir, Aragorn, Boromir, Denethor, Finduilas of Dol Amroth
Warning : Mention of character death and ghost appearances
"Now Aragorn knelt beside Faramir, and held a hand upon his brow. And those that watched felt some great struggle was going on. For Aragorn's face grew grey with weariness, and ever and anon he called the name of Faramir, but each time more faintly to their hearing, as if Aragorn himself was removed from them, and walked afar in some dark vale, calling for one that was lost…"
I would have followed you...
"Faramir?" called Aragorn, his eyes closed and brow furrowed in deep concentration. His attempt was only rewarded with emptiness. Emptiness and darkness.
"Faramir." tried he, once more, forcing himself to enter the man's mind even deeper. For an instant, he thought he had caught a faint glimpse of light shining in the dark, but it was gone in an instant.
"Faramir…" called Aragorn, once more, his voice getting fainter and fainter as he forced to go deeper into Faramir's mind. There again, a light, stronger than it had been before, but still far away and weak. Yet, it gave Aragorn a sudden spark of hope. Faramir was fading, yet he had not gone entirely out of reach.
My mother...
Faramir was standing on the edge of a cliff. Before him laid a seemingly endless hole, filled only with darkness. Behind him stood a high stone wall, all white and shining brightly. Voices suddenly began to reach the man's ears. At first faint, but growing louder with every passing minute. He could barely make out the words they were saying… "Come", "Son", "Home", "Join"... The voices sounded so familiar… Not all of them, but most of them… "Closer", said a womanly voice which sent a shiver in Faramir's spine... Slowly, he bent down over the edge, and tears began to stream down his face as he recognised the soft voice of his mother calling him…
"Come, my son… Come home… Come home with us… We are awaiting for you…" was she saying.
"Mother?" called the man in a shaking voice, filled with emotion he could not contain… He could not see her, yet how could he ever forget this gentle, soft tone of hers ? Memories suddenly flashed in his mind… Memories of a stormy night… A bed… A too pale face… Pleading eyes… A hand desperately reaching out for him… The falling back on the sheets, where it laid, unmoving, lifeless… Faramir remembered taking it, finally, but it was too late… The pleading eyes were now empty and staring at something that did not exist, the hand was cold...
Slowly, sobbing heavily, he brought his hand forward, into the darkness, in a vain attempt to touch her, wherever she was… To feel that delicate skin once again… Just to have his mother back…
There. He felt it. And it was too much for him to bear. He felt as if the decades of sorrow and mourning were suddenly bursting out of him. The hand was there. That delicate skin, those thin fingers, closing around his own bloodied hand… But it was cold… Cold as ice… Just like in his memory.
"Come home, my son… We are all awaiting for you… Your father and brother are waiting… Come with us…" spoke the voice of his mother…
"Father… Brother…" repeated he without thinking, eyes locked on where his own arm was disappearing into the nothingness.
Boromir and Denethor were down here too… His father and brother… They could be together once more… Like before… When days were brighter and nights were peaceful…
"Faramir?" a voice that sounded weirdly familiar suddenly echoed from what seemed to be the top of the white, shining wall.
So surprised was the young man that he involuntarily let go of the frail, cold hand.
"MOTHER!" cried he desperately as he realised his mistake. Too late, alas… It was there no more… So Faramir simply laid on the cliff, arm frantically searching the nothingness in a desperate attempt to catch something.
Yet his body was now being torn between a small part in the back of his mind telling him to climb up the white wall and reach the unknown yet familiar voice, and his heart, begging him to get down in the darkness and reach his mother, his father, his brother… His family…
But the voice...
My father…
"Mother!" suddenly cried Faramir as he felt a hand closing around his once more. But not even a second after his cry, the man knew he had called the wrong person out, for the new hand was larger, stronger, and felt so much older…
Alas, this was a hand he wished he could have grabbed or at least touched much more often…
"F-Father?" spoke the young man softly as he felt another wave of tears filling his already reddened eyes.
"My son…" spoke the unmistakable voice of Denethor. Yet, for the first time in what felt like ages, the voice did not hold an ounce of anger, of reproach… Only a great tenderness and compassion, "My son, I am so sorry… I did not realise how much my words hurt you… I love you, my boy, with all my heart, I was a fool to lock myself into the past and not focus on what was happening before me..."
At those words, Faramir's head fell forward and small sparkling drops of salty water slowly went down from his cheeks to the dark cloud underneath him… Those were the words he had always dreamed about… Night and day, after every successful mission, every accomplished service… And now he had heard them… And it still felt so surreal…
"Please, my son, come to us… Let me make things right, I beg you…"
Faramir did not answer. What could he possibly answer to this ?
Here again, his mind was telling him to get away, to let the hand go and climb to this unknown voice, but his heart could not bear letting go of a hand he had been waiting all his life to hold.
"Faramir."
The voice sounded so much more powerful now. Powerful and determined. And this time, it was Faramir's mind who won over his heart, as if something had forced him into action, and the man was plainly conscious of his own fingers loosening slowly and letting go of his father's hand.
"NO!" cried he, still, for his heart was now desperately longing for him to fall into the darkness and have his family back…
Yet something felt wrong…
My brother…
"Faramir?" called another voice, much closer than the unknown one.
Faramir's heart skipped a bit as he recognised it. It was coming from behind him.
"No… It can't be…" whispered the young man, all doubt suddenly fading.
"And yet, here I am… Brother."
Not a single doubt remained now, so, very slowly, Faramir got up and tuned around to face someone he never thought he would have ever been able to see in his life…
"B-Boromir…?" whispered he. He wanted to run. To run and hug his dear brother tight in his arms, but Faramir's feet were completely locked on the ground and refused to move.
"Hello little one…" said Boromir, handing out his hand for his brother to take it.
Faramir soon imitated him, and he was only mildly surprised when, instead of feeling his brother's strong and bloodied fingers, he felt… Well, nothing…
He stared at the hand that was held out before him and, before looking back up into his brother's shining yet distant eyes, a small distressed gasp escaping his shaking lips.
For he was now realising that Boromir's body could not occult the bright light of the stone wall behind him.
And that was the moment when it stroke him. His brother was dead. He was there with him no more. And they would never be together again, he would never be able to touch him again, except if Faramir died...
He knew what he had to do.
Slowly, Faramir took a step back, then another, getting closer and closer to the edge of the small cliff.
It was the only way.
His heart had won.
"NO!!!" suddenly cried Boromir, lurching forward and stopping only inches before his younger brother.
So surprised was the young man, that he stopped dead in his tracks.
"I'm sorry, little one, I can't let you do this." spoke the ghost.
His eyes looked so pleading…
"Why? Why can't you? This is too much! I do not want to live without you anymore Boromir… I need you, I need mother, I need… Father…"
"No…" whispered Boromir, shaking his head slightly, "Brother, you are given a choice… You have to choose between life or death. But death… Is irreversible... Death is the choice of fear, of despair, of weakness… If you choose death, it means you are giving up, it means you let the Enemy win. But shall you choose life, you would make a brave, hopeful choice…"
"No one needs me anymore, what difference does it make ?" replied Faramir in a defying tone.
"No brother… You are wrong. People need you over here… That voice who called you? It is the voice of your King, little one. And he is fighting to get you back because he needs you… Gondor needs you, brother, more than you can imagine…" spoke Boromir in a soft and comforting tone.
At those words, Faramir broke once more, and his few remaining tears began to roll down his already wet cheeks.
"But I need you, Boromir…" said he in a very low and unassured voice.
Boromir smiled.
"I am still with you brother… I am still here, we all are." told he, lifting his right hand to point at the area on the left of Faramir's chest.
"We will always be with you."
And so, between two sons, Faramir managed a small smile at his older brother.
He knew what he had to do.
His mind had won.
"Faramir…"
Be at peace, son of Gondor…
There, Aragorn saw it plainly. It was right before him. The spark of light. But it was strong now. Strong and large.
Reacting as quickly as his sore muscles allowed him to move, Aragorn grabbed it with his both hands and closed his eyes.
"Faramir!"
He felt the light entering his entire body and, after a few seconds, the King opened his eyes.
He was back in the Houses of Healing, yet the young man lying deathly pale before him showed no signs of waking up. A tensed minute passed during which Aragorn wondered if he had not failed…
Suddenly Faramir stirred, and he opened his eyes, and he looked on Aragorn who bent over him; and a light of knowledge and love was kindled in his eyes, and he spoke softly.
"My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command ?"
Aragorn breathed out deeply in relief.
The young man was still here.
Ranking: 2nd place
Summary : Faramir is given a choice… The choice to live or die… He has to pick one now, but some people are there to assure themselves that he does the right thing...
Rating : T
Characters : Faramir, Aragorn, Boromir, Denethor, Finduilas of Dol Amroth
Warning : Mention of character death and ghost appearances
"Now Aragorn knelt beside Faramir, and held a hand upon his brow. And those that watched felt some great struggle was going on. For Aragorn's face grew grey with weariness, and ever and anon he called the name of Faramir, but each time more faintly to their hearing, as if Aragorn himself was removed from them, and walked afar in some dark vale, calling for one that was lost…"
I would have followed you...
"Faramir?" called Aragorn, his eyes closed and brow furrowed in deep concentration. His attempt was only rewarded with emptiness. Emptiness and darkness.
"Faramir." tried he, once more, forcing himself to enter the man's mind even deeper. For an instant, he thought he had caught a faint glimpse of light shining in the dark, but it was gone in an instant.
"Faramir…" called Aragorn, once more, his voice getting fainter and fainter as he forced to go deeper into Faramir's mind. There again, a light, stronger than it had been before, but still far away and weak. Yet, it gave Aragorn a sudden spark of hope. Faramir was fading, yet he had not gone entirely out of reach.
My mother...
Faramir was standing on the edge of a cliff. Before him laid a seemingly endless hole, filled only with darkness. Behind him stood a high stone wall, all white and shining brightly. Voices suddenly began to reach the man's ears. At first faint, but growing louder with every passing minute. He could barely make out the words they were saying… "Come", "Son", "Home", "Join"... The voices sounded so familiar… Not all of them, but most of them… "Closer", said a womanly voice which sent a shiver in Faramir's spine... Slowly, he bent down over the edge, and tears began to stream down his face as he recognised the soft voice of his mother calling him…
"Come, my son… Come home… Come home with us… We are awaiting for you…" was she saying.
"Mother?" called the man in a shaking voice, filled with emotion he could not contain… He could not see her, yet how could he ever forget this gentle, soft tone of hers ? Memories suddenly flashed in his mind… Memories of a stormy night… A bed… A too pale face… Pleading eyes… A hand desperately reaching out for him… The falling back on the sheets, where it laid, unmoving, lifeless… Faramir remembered taking it, finally, but it was too late… The pleading eyes were now empty and staring at something that did not exist, the hand was cold...
Slowly, sobbing heavily, he brought his hand forward, into the darkness, in a vain attempt to touch her, wherever she was… To feel that delicate skin once again… Just to have his mother back…
There. He felt it. And it was too much for him to bear. He felt as if the decades of sorrow and mourning were suddenly bursting out of him. The hand was there. That delicate skin, those thin fingers, closing around his own bloodied hand… But it was cold… Cold as ice… Just like in his memory.
"Come home, my son… We are all awaiting for you… Your father and brother are waiting… Come with us…" spoke the voice of his mother…
"Father… Brother…" repeated he without thinking, eyes locked on where his own arm was disappearing into the nothingness.
Boromir and Denethor were down here too… His father and brother… They could be together once more… Like before… When days were brighter and nights were peaceful…
"Faramir?" a voice that sounded weirdly familiar suddenly echoed from what seemed to be the top of the white, shining wall.
So surprised was the young man that he involuntarily let go of the frail, cold hand.
"MOTHER!" cried he desperately as he realised his mistake. Too late, alas… It was there no more… So Faramir simply laid on the cliff, arm frantically searching the nothingness in a desperate attempt to catch something.
Yet his body was now being torn between a small part in the back of his mind telling him to climb up the white wall and reach the unknown yet familiar voice, and his heart, begging him to get down in the darkness and reach his mother, his father, his brother… His family…
But the voice...
My father…
"Mother!" suddenly cried Faramir as he felt a hand closing around his once more. But not even a second after his cry, the man knew he had called the wrong person out, for the new hand was larger, stronger, and felt so much older…
Alas, this was a hand he wished he could have grabbed or at least touched much more often…
"F-Father?" spoke the young man softly as he felt another wave of tears filling his already reddened eyes.
"My son…" spoke the unmistakable voice of Denethor. Yet, for the first time in what felt like ages, the voice did not hold an ounce of anger, of reproach… Only a great tenderness and compassion, "My son, I am so sorry… I did not realise how much my words hurt you… I love you, my boy, with all my heart, I was a fool to lock myself into the past and not focus on what was happening before me..."
At those words, Faramir's head fell forward and small sparkling drops of salty water slowly went down from his cheeks to the dark cloud underneath him… Those were the words he had always dreamed about… Night and day, after every successful mission, every accomplished service… And now he had heard them… And it still felt so surreal…
"Please, my son, come to us… Let me make things right, I beg you…"
Faramir did not answer. What could he possibly answer to this ?
Here again, his mind was telling him to get away, to let the hand go and climb to this unknown voice, but his heart could not bear letting go of a hand he had been waiting all his life to hold.
"Faramir."
The voice sounded so much more powerful now. Powerful and determined. And this time, it was Faramir's mind who won over his heart, as if something had forced him into action, and the man was plainly conscious of his own fingers loosening slowly and letting go of his father's hand.
"NO!" cried he, still, for his heart was now desperately longing for him to fall into the darkness and have his family back…
Yet something felt wrong…
My brother…
"Faramir?" called another voice, much closer than the unknown one.
Faramir's heart skipped a bit as he recognised it. It was coming from behind him.
"No… It can't be…" whispered the young man, all doubt suddenly fading.
"And yet, here I am… Brother."
Not a single doubt remained now, so, very slowly, Faramir got up and tuned around to face someone he never thought he would have ever been able to see in his life…
"B-Boromir…?" whispered he. He wanted to run. To run and hug his dear brother tight in his arms, but Faramir's feet were completely locked on the ground and refused to move.
"Hello little one…" said Boromir, handing out his hand for his brother to take it.
Faramir soon imitated him, and he was only mildly surprised when, instead of feeling his brother's strong and bloodied fingers, he felt… Well, nothing…
He stared at the hand that was held out before him and, before looking back up into his brother's shining yet distant eyes, a small distressed gasp escaping his shaking lips.
For he was now realising that Boromir's body could not occult the bright light of the stone wall behind him.
And that was the moment when it stroke him. His brother was dead. He was there with him no more. And they would never be together again, he would never be able to touch him again, except if Faramir died...
He knew what he had to do.
Slowly, Faramir took a step back, then another, getting closer and closer to the edge of the small cliff.
It was the only way.
His heart had won.
"NO!!!" suddenly cried Boromir, lurching forward and stopping only inches before his younger brother.
So surprised was the young man, that he stopped dead in his tracks.
"I'm sorry, little one, I can't let you do this." spoke the ghost.
His eyes looked so pleading…
"Why? Why can't you? This is too much! I do not want to live without you anymore Boromir… I need you, I need mother, I need… Father…"
"No…" whispered Boromir, shaking his head slightly, "Brother, you are given a choice… You have to choose between life or death. But death… Is irreversible... Death is the choice of fear, of despair, of weakness… If you choose death, it means you are giving up, it means you let the Enemy win. But shall you choose life, you would make a brave, hopeful choice…"
"No one needs me anymore, what difference does it make ?" replied Faramir in a defying tone.
"No brother… You are wrong. People need you over here… That voice who called you? It is the voice of your King, little one. And he is fighting to get you back because he needs you… Gondor needs you, brother, more than you can imagine…" spoke Boromir in a soft and comforting tone.
At those words, Faramir broke once more, and his few remaining tears began to roll down his already wet cheeks.
"But I need you, Boromir…" said he in a very low and unassured voice.
Boromir smiled.
"I am still with you brother… I am still here, we all are." told he, lifting his right hand to point at the area on the left of Faramir's chest.
"We will always be with you."
And so, between two sons, Faramir managed a small smile at his older brother.
He knew what he had to do.
His mind had won.
"Faramir…"
Be at peace, son of Gondor…
There, Aragorn saw it plainly. It was right before him. The spark of light. But it was strong now. Strong and large.
Reacting as quickly as his sore muscles allowed him to move, Aragorn grabbed it with his both hands and closed his eyes.
"Faramir!"
He felt the light entering his entire body and, after a few seconds, the King opened his eyes.
He was back in the Houses of Healing, yet the young man lying deathly pale before him showed no signs of waking up. A tensed minute passed during which Aragorn wondered if he had not failed…
Suddenly Faramir stirred, and he opened his eyes, and he looked on Aragorn who bent over him; and a light of knowledge and love was kindled in his eyes, and he spoke softly.
"My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command ?"
Aragorn breathed out deeply in relief.
The young man was still here.