Post by Admin on Jan 9, 2021 1:58:26 GMT
Author: Rebecca Wilkin
Ranking: 2nd place
Summary: Faramir and Aragorn discuss the weightiness of life at court
Rating: K
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings. I'm just playing in the good Professor Tolkien's sandbox
Faramir sighed as he reclined back against the stately tree at the edge of the clearing. He closed his eyes as he listened to the sounds of Arda echoing around him. He stretched out his long lean legs in front of him as he relaxed in the late afternoon’s peacefulness.
“What are you thinking about, mellon-nin?” Aragorn Elessar’s voice broke through the Steward’s musing. The younger man opened his eyes to see the King’s grey eyes twinkling at him.
“I was just considering how nice it is to be preparing our own meals instead of being fawned over by well-meaning servants and over-bearing courtiers.”
His companion laughed softly as he stirred the embers of the small cooking fire the two had built at the edge of Anduin’s rolling waters. The smell of roasting fish wafted on the gentle breeze now whispering through the clearing. “I have never been comfortable with servants and maids waiting on me. Even in Master Elrond’s house in Rivendell, I was more likely to follow my foster brothers into the wild rather than sit at the table with gilded plates and fancy goblets.”
Faramir sat up to meet his friend’s eyes. “But you seem so comfortable at court. Is this a façade that you have perfected?”
Aragorn laughed again. “Nay, mellon. Master Elrond and my mother made sure that I knew how to act for formal events even when my childish heart resisted such elegant affairs. Those early lessons have stood me in great stead as I have moved from simple ranger to respected Captain to Gondor’s King.”
“I sense a story in that lesson. Would you be willing to satisfy my curiosity?” Faramir asked as he retrieved two simple plates and a water skin from their gear. He held out the dishes for the fish now being pulled from the fire.
“I was just into my teens and was far more interested in following Master Elrond’s twin sons off on a hunting trip rather than attend the formal dinner being thrown for a visiting elf lord. My mother felt that I needed to expand my diplomatic experiences and I, being an impulsive young man, of course believed otherwise. So I feigned illness with the intention of sneaking out of my room and following Elladan and Elrohir later that evening. What I did not know was that they had also been told to attend the feast by their father, over their own protests, and had postponed their trip until the following morn.” His grey eyes twinkled in memory. “I waited until I was sure all of the elves were at the feast, along with my own mother before slipping from my bed and sneaking out the window. A tree with sturdy branches grew close enough to the opening that I had no trouble escaping from my room and quickly scrambled to the ground. I was priding myself on avoiding the elves on patrol and in my ingenuity at tricking both my mother and my foster father when I was unmercifully grabbed by the scruff of the neck and firmly planted on the ground.” He chuckled ruefully as he recalled the night so long ago. Faramir set aside his now empty plate as he waited for the tale to continue. “I looked up into the eyes of none other than the Balrog Slayer himself, Lord Glorfindel. Needless to say, I had no other recourse than to accompany him back to the main house. He returned me to my chambers and told me in no uncertain terms that I was to remain there until my mother or Lord Elrond sent for me. It seemed like an eternity before I was summoned to my foster father’s study.” Aragorn’s voice turned soft as he stared at his plate.
“Are you alright, mellon?” Faramir murmured when the King didn’t continue.
Aragorn met his gaze. “Forgive me. Sometimes I find it painful to think I shall never learn from my foster father again. I never knew my human father and Lord Elrond became as much a father to me as anyone could be.” He cleared his throat. “But, I digress,” he smiled, dispelling the somber mood. “In any case, my punishment for deceiving my elders and sneaking off without permission was to attend every formal gathering held in the Last Homely House for the next month. Mother made it quite clear that should my behavior be anything less than appropriate, I could expect to continue to attend for an even greater length of time.”
“And so, you learned to hide the discomfort behind a face of good will and charity,” the Steward chuckled.
“Indeed, but even though I am a King, I still enjoy a rustic meal in the woods with good friends. No amount of court life will even change that.” Aragorn grinned as the ranger of old, rather than the King of reunited Gondor and Arnor. “For even a king needs time away from duty and formality.”
“I heartily agree,” Faramir replied. “The simple life of a ranger is no bad thing at all.”
Ranking: 2nd place
Summary: Faramir and Aragorn discuss the weightiness of life at court
Rating: K
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings. I'm just playing in the good Professor Tolkien's sandbox
Faramir sighed as he reclined back against the stately tree at the edge of the clearing. He closed his eyes as he listened to the sounds of Arda echoing around him. He stretched out his long lean legs in front of him as he relaxed in the late afternoon’s peacefulness.
“What are you thinking about, mellon-nin?” Aragorn Elessar’s voice broke through the Steward’s musing. The younger man opened his eyes to see the King’s grey eyes twinkling at him.
“I was just considering how nice it is to be preparing our own meals instead of being fawned over by well-meaning servants and over-bearing courtiers.”
His companion laughed softly as he stirred the embers of the small cooking fire the two had built at the edge of Anduin’s rolling waters. The smell of roasting fish wafted on the gentle breeze now whispering through the clearing. “I have never been comfortable with servants and maids waiting on me. Even in Master Elrond’s house in Rivendell, I was more likely to follow my foster brothers into the wild rather than sit at the table with gilded plates and fancy goblets.”
Faramir sat up to meet his friend’s eyes. “But you seem so comfortable at court. Is this a façade that you have perfected?”
Aragorn laughed again. “Nay, mellon. Master Elrond and my mother made sure that I knew how to act for formal events even when my childish heart resisted such elegant affairs. Those early lessons have stood me in great stead as I have moved from simple ranger to respected Captain to Gondor’s King.”
“I sense a story in that lesson. Would you be willing to satisfy my curiosity?” Faramir asked as he retrieved two simple plates and a water skin from their gear. He held out the dishes for the fish now being pulled from the fire.
“I was just into my teens and was far more interested in following Master Elrond’s twin sons off on a hunting trip rather than attend the formal dinner being thrown for a visiting elf lord. My mother felt that I needed to expand my diplomatic experiences and I, being an impulsive young man, of course believed otherwise. So I feigned illness with the intention of sneaking out of my room and following Elladan and Elrohir later that evening. What I did not know was that they had also been told to attend the feast by their father, over their own protests, and had postponed their trip until the following morn.” His grey eyes twinkled in memory. “I waited until I was sure all of the elves were at the feast, along with my own mother before slipping from my bed and sneaking out the window. A tree with sturdy branches grew close enough to the opening that I had no trouble escaping from my room and quickly scrambled to the ground. I was priding myself on avoiding the elves on patrol and in my ingenuity at tricking both my mother and my foster father when I was unmercifully grabbed by the scruff of the neck and firmly planted on the ground.” He chuckled ruefully as he recalled the night so long ago. Faramir set aside his now empty plate as he waited for the tale to continue. “I looked up into the eyes of none other than the Balrog Slayer himself, Lord Glorfindel. Needless to say, I had no other recourse than to accompany him back to the main house. He returned me to my chambers and told me in no uncertain terms that I was to remain there until my mother or Lord Elrond sent for me. It seemed like an eternity before I was summoned to my foster father’s study.” Aragorn’s voice turned soft as he stared at his plate.
“Are you alright, mellon?” Faramir murmured when the King didn’t continue.
Aragorn met his gaze. “Forgive me. Sometimes I find it painful to think I shall never learn from my foster father again. I never knew my human father and Lord Elrond became as much a father to me as anyone could be.” He cleared his throat. “But, I digress,” he smiled, dispelling the somber mood. “In any case, my punishment for deceiving my elders and sneaking off without permission was to attend every formal gathering held in the Last Homely House for the next month. Mother made it quite clear that should my behavior be anything less than appropriate, I could expect to continue to attend for an even greater length of time.”
“And so, you learned to hide the discomfort behind a face of good will and charity,” the Steward chuckled.
“Indeed, but even though I am a King, I still enjoy a rustic meal in the woods with good friends. No amount of court life will even change that.” Aragorn grinned as the ranger of old, rather than the King of reunited Gondor and Arnor. “For even a king needs time away from duty and formality.”
“I heartily agree,” Faramir replied. “The simple life of a ranger is no bad thing at all.”