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Title: Farewell

By: LOTRFaith

Rating: PG for some mentions of abuse.

A/N: Yeah I know, I’m supposed to be writing Mortal Memories. But I think you’ll like this one too:-)

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Farewell

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Dark eyelashes swept upwards revealing vibrant green eyes that rested almost tenderly upon a large alter like stone. Tears sparkled from the pale light and threatened to fall.

A slender hand reached out and touched the blackened surface yet to scrubbed clean. The servants had more important things to done than this job.

Slender fingers calloused from many years of holding a sword and shooting arrows gently traced a name in the soot.

Denethor

It was more than just a name now, it was a name that the bearer had carried until death, and the name was no longer feared, but respected. The name though simple and now carried no authority, it meant a world to the lone figure alive in the Hall of Tombs.

Denethor, son of Ecthelion, steward of Gondor. Father to Boromir, captain of Gondor and Faramir, commander of the rangers in Ithilien. Husband to Findulas, a fair lady whose life had been choked by the walls of stone.

A tear splashed against the cold unforgiving stone. Another quickly followed and soon the figure was overcome.

Sobs wracked the lean figure, and echoed along the cavern filled with the dead.

One slender hand pressed against the soot covered stone and the other pressed against his eyes.

After a few moments, the storm passed and the ginger haired figure lifted his head and quietly spoke.

“Farewell Father.”

He chose not to remember the bruises and the bloodied cuts, the words mean to hurt and tear his emotions apart, but rather he remembered the laughter and the hugs, the words of encouragement and love of Denethor, his father.

Faramir pressed a kiss to the blackened stone, then stood. “Be at peace with Mother and Boromir, Father.”

The hand gave a silent blessing and forgiveness then returned to it’s owners side. Casting a long look around, Faramir sighed.

He had many things that needed to be done. His wounds were fully healed so they provided no support for him to be lying around and doing nothing. Especially now, due to the fact that he was now steward of Gondor.

But at last he could go forth with a sense of peace.

As he walked out, his boots echoing along the halls, he thought and not for the first time of when he opened his eyes to meet those of his father’s.

Perhaps his father had died bitterly, but Faramir would always remember the look of utter joy on his Father’s face before the black oblivion claimed him once more.

Faramir smiled sadly then pushed the doors open letting the bright sunlight stream in.

He took a deep breath of the fresh air and felt as though a silent burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

The wind suddenly blew, sending the ginger locks into disarray, but Faramir paid it no mind, for the wind had brought a gift to the steward.

The laughter of two children chasing each other amidst the fallen buildings reached Faramir’s ears and he smiled.

Hope had been found and rekindled here in the city of Gondor.

An exiled king would crowned. Buildings would be built back up. Friendships would be sealed.

‘Yes.’ Faramir thought rather happily. ‘A new day had finally dawned.’

The End.