Post by Admin on Jan 4, 2021 3:48:34 GMT
Author: Rebecca Belton
Summary: Faramir recalls a time when the White City wasn't as welcoming as it has become.
Rating: K
Disclaimer: LOTR belongs to JRR Tolkien and his estate. I'm just escaping reality by playing in the good professor's sandbox
“Where is Boromir? Where is my first born?”
Faramir closed his eyes at the familiar questions. Once again, his father’s attention focused solely on his brother. Boromir placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, a reminder that while their father dismissed him, his brother would never forsake him.
“Father. We are here!” Boromir called to his father as the Steward moved through the ranks of infantry and rangers. Denethor embraced his elder son.
“A well fought victory my son. As always you exceed my expectations.” The Steward praised the Captain-General, while pointedly ignoring the Ranger Captain behind him.
Boromir flushed under the praise. “Thank you, Father, but I cannot take credit for a victory that was not mine. If it were not for the advanced warning of Faramir and his Rangers, we would have been taken by surprise and possibly overrun.”
“And yet the Enemy managed to evade the Rangers and attack the main encampment.”
“Father that is not a fair judgment. The Rangers slowed the main group of attackers long enough for us to prepare an adequate defense.”
Faramir closed his eyes, wishing that he were elsewhere as the argument continued. He was accustomed to his father’s disdain, but to experience it, while his father acted as though he were not even present, and in front of his men too, hurt far deeper than the young Captain wanted to admit.
“Captain Faramir?”
Anborn’s voice broke into his thoughts. “What is it, Anborn?” He hoped his friend did not notice his pain.
“There is a message you should see, my lord.” The Ranger’s eyes turned toward the two men behind Faramir. He understood that Anborn was giving him an excuse to leave the still raging argument. He offered a faint smile to his second in command.
“Thank you, Anborn. Please lead the way.” The young Captain was more than ready to leave the uncomfortable situation, even if it meant revealing a weakness to his men.
Aragorn shook his head in disbelief at the story his friend told. “It still astounds me to hear how your father favored your brother over you. I cannot imagine loving one child over another, regardless of that child’s temperament. To belittle you in front of your men and your commander is not only foolhardy, but uncouth as well.”
Faramir sighed as he reclined on the soft grass near his home. “Unfortunately, my men were used to such scenes. They had often watched, albeit as discretely as possible, when my father vented his frustrations and dissatisfaction regarding my leadership. I suppose that is why I avoided the city so much of the time. Not only did I prefer to be with my men, but I also felt more at home in Ithilien. Invariably, the more time I spent in Minas Tirith, the more unsettled and out of place I felt.”
The King studied his Steward. “And yet now you spend more than half your time there.”
Faramir smiled ruefully. “My father is gone and while the White City still holds difficult memories for me, I no longer feel unwanted there. You have helped to change that perception for me, mellon-nin.”
Aragorn returned the younger man’s smile. “You no longer need feel out of place in my court, Faramir. You have not only proven your worth but you have earned the honor due the station of Gondor’s Steward.
Faramir’s smile grew broader at the praise from his liege lord. For quite possibly the first time in his life, he felt welcomed and loved by the one who not only called him back from the darkness but also gave him a chance to fulfill a storied destiny.
Summary: Faramir recalls a time when the White City wasn't as welcoming as it has become.
Rating: K
Disclaimer: LOTR belongs to JRR Tolkien and his estate. I'm just escaping reality by playing in the good professor's sandbox
“Where is Boromir? Where is my first born?”
Faramir closed his eyes at the familiar questions. Once again, his father’s attention focused solely on his brother. Boromir placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, a reminder that while their father dismissed him, his brother would never forsake him.
“Father. We are here!” Boromir called to his father as the Steward moved through the ranks of infantry and rangers. Denethor embraced his elder son.
“A well fought victory my son. As always you exceed my expectations.” The Steward praised the Captain-General, while pointedly ignoring the Ranger Captain behind him.
Boromir flushed under the praise. “Thank you, Father, but I cannot take credit for a victory that was not mine. If it were not for the advanced warning of Faramir and his Rangers, we would have been taken by surprise and possibly overrun.”
“And yet the Enemy managed to evade the Rangers and attack the main encampment.”
“Father that is not a fair judgment. The Rangers slowed the main group of attackers long enough for us to prepare an adequate defense.”
Faramir closed his eyes, wishing that he were elsewhere as the argument continued. He was accustomed to his father’s disdain, but to experience it, while his father acted as though he were not even present, and in front of his men too, hurt far deeper than the young Captain wanted to admit.
“Captain Faramir?”
Anborn’s voice broke into his thoughts. “What is it, Anborn?” He hoped his friend did not notice his pain.
“There is a message you should see, my lord.” The Ranger’s eyes turned toward the two men behind Faramir. He understood that Anborn was giving him an excuse to leave the still raging argument. He offered a faint smile to his second in command.
“Thank you, Anborn. Please lead the way.” The young Captain was more than ready to leave the uncomfortable situation, even if it meant revealing a weakness to his men.
Aragorn shook his head in disbelief at the story his friend told. “It still astounds me to hear how your father favored your brother over you. I cannot imagine loving one child over another, regardless of that child’s temperament. To belittle you in front of your men and your commander is not only foolhardy, but uncouth as well.”
Faramir sighed as he reclined on the soft grass near his home. “Unfortunately, my men were used to such scenes. They had often watched, albeit as discretely as possible, when my father vented his frustrations and dissatisfaction regarding my leadership. I suppose that is why I avoided the city so much of the time. Not only did I prefer to be with my men, but I also felt more at home in Ithilien. Invariably, the more time I spent in Minas Tirith, the more unsettled and out of place I felt.”
The King studied his Steward. “And yet now you spend more than half your time there.”
Faramir smiled ruefully. “My father is gone and while the White City still holds difficult memories for me, I no longer feel unwanted there. You have helped to change that perception for me, mellon-nin.”
Aragorn returned the younger man’s smile. “You no longer need feel out of place in my court, Faramir. You have not only proven your worth but you have earned the honor due the station of Gondor’s Steward.
Faramir’s smile grew broader at the praise from his liege lord. For quite possibly the first time in his life, he felt welcomed and loved by the one who not only called him back from the darkness but also gave him a chance to fulfill a storied destiny.