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The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate For all my foresight, it grieves me to see my little girl in pain. My daughter bears her ordeal with the dignity expected a chieftain’s wife. Only the crushing grip on my hand betrays her agony. She cries out only when the babe enters the world. “A fine boy!” exclaims the midwife, “What will you and your lord call him?” She hands the babe to me while she tends my daughter. Instead of crying, he looks into my eyes. I know then that hope has dawned at last for our people. Gilraen smiles at her son. ”His name is Aragorn.”
Darkening Days
The characters are the property of the Tolkien estate. With thanks to Raksha One by one, death claimed our friends. First, Éomer and the Hobbits, now Faramir. Each death seemed to diminish Estel a little, especially Faramir’s. They were so alike, kindred souls, the last of Númenor. I saw our Steward, once so vigorous and hearty, slowly fading, until the Doom of Men overcame him. “I hope I shall depart with the same accepting grace,” my husband tells me, weeping anguished tears. “I too, am growing old.” Foreboding fills my heart, knowing that Estel must one day follow him. I shall taste the bitterness of mortality with him. Slowly, the days grow darker.
The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate Death of Hope I always knew this dreaded day would come. Yet nothing could prepare me for it. I pleaded with him to stay, much to my shame. Would it have been easier if I had watched him growing ever weaker, losing everything that made him the man he was? I know not. He departed with such courage, full of hope, my Estel to his last breath. Even in death his glory was not diminished. I feel half of my spirit departed with him. I am left but a walking shadow.
The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate “Walk no more in shadows, but awake,” I tell him. I sense so many shadows, not all caused by Sauron’s minions. Those shades reach far back into the past, overshadowing the small child deprived of a mother's love, the restless youth vainly striving for his father’s approval; the darkness of a brother’s deeds and death. Darkest of all is the shadow of the father slain by his own hand, who would have consigned his son to the flames. Walk no more in shadows cast by others. Awake, O Jewel of Gondor, to walk in the sun at my right hand!
I expect to see confusion in his gaze. Instead, he looks at me with love and recognition, almost as if he expected to see me. “What does the king command?” he asks me, thus bringing closer my dreams of marriage and heirs. Love springs between us. Friendship and fealty both, kindled in that instant. I smile, my heart gladdened to have snatched this prize from Sauron’s grasp. Gondor has need of this son and so will I. A/N I could not let March 15th pass without revisiting Aragorn and Faramir in the Houses of Healing.I have already written about them in "First Meeting" and "The One", also on this site, but would recommend Raksha's wonderful "The Falcon and the Star" as essential reading for today. http://www.tolkienfanfiction.com/Story_R Some phases are taken from "The Return of the King" .Tolkien uses the phase. "Love sprang between them" in an earlier draft, which is published in HOME "The War of the Ring." With grateful thanks to Raksha for her help with these drabbles.
The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate.No profit has been nor will be made from this ficlet. But when Aragorn arose all that beheld him gazed in silence, for it seemed to them that he was revealed to them now for the first time. Tall as the sea-kings of old, he stood above all that were near; ancient of days he seemed and yet in the flower of manhood; and wisdom sat upon his brow, and strength and healing were in his hands, and a light was about him. And then Faramir cried: ‘Behold the King!’ - The Return of the King - J. R.R Tolkien With thanks to Raksha and Deandra.
Behold the King
I speak the words of my forefather, bringing together past and present. I take it from him, but do not crown myself. I call rather for Frodo and Gandalf. Today, all are hailing me, but without them there would be no crown to offer. Gondor would lie in ruins under the Dark Lord’s dominion, while I would be dead, or worse, enslaved by him. For many long years have I longed for today. My dreams, though, will only be fulfilled if Arwen is beside me as my wife and Queen. Dark will be my days if I am doomed to rule alone. I scan the sea of faces. So many are here and yet so many are not. Would that my mother had lived to see this day! If only Halbarad were here and Théoden King. Their blood bought my triumph dearly. I kneel before the Wizard in humility. Gandalf places the crown upon my head and speaks a blessing. The crown weighs heavily upon me, reminding me of the many burdens I now bear. New strength courses through my veins. I feel the burden of my long years of wandering lifted. Today, I am reborn as Elessar, Envinyatar. I show my true face at last, the heir of Elendil, the rightful King in whom the blood of Númenór runs true. Faramir, his face alight with joy cries aloud, ”Behold the King!” Shouts of acclamation fill the air as trumpets sound. The sea of smiling faces gladdens my heart. They are my people now. I will protect them as a loving father protects his children. May the Valar grant me wisdom to rule them with justice and compassion! A/N This ficlet suddenly jumped into my head to mark the date of Aragorn's coronation
These characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. No profit has been, nor will be made from this story. With grateful thanks to Raksha. The Silver Crown For long centuries, the Silver Crown had lain in the darkness, waiting for the rightful King to come for it. The old Kings had guarded the crown well throughout the long years of my sires’ Stewardship. The ancient helm shone like a sliver of Ithil, as if Eärnur Last-King had laid it aside but yesterday. I took up the crown that my longfather Mardil left here for safekeeping. My own father would have known little joy in this task. Would that he had chosen life and hope, however faint, instead of the fire! He might have come to love the King as I do. The Crown of the Sea-Kings was indeed a great prize. But greater by far was he who would soon claim it to wear as he renewed Gondor. Long had I yearned for the day that was to come on the morrow. I bore the crown, quickly, anxious to leave the dead in peace. There had been too much death of late. I quickened my steps when I passed the rubble of the House of Stewards. The tree still stood dead and barren, but hope lived in the City! Hope had found me at the very end of my strength. I was lost, nearly taken by Shadow. When I first beheld him, I knew that Elendil’s heir, the King I longed for, had come. He restored me. What other hands could hold such healing power? I knew then that I was safe and so too was Gondor. His hands also recalled Éowyn, the fair Shieldmaiden, from death, to my joy. I pledged her my heart, and she will become my bride. Now, before the gates of our longfathers’ city, the King smiles and thanks me. I can only offer him the crown. He gave me life anew. `For myself,' said Faramir, 'I would see the White Tree in flower again in the courts of the kings, and the Silver Crown return, and Minas Tirith in peace: Minas Anor again as of old, full of light, high and fair, beautiful as a queen among other queens: not a mistress of many slaves, nay, not even a kind mistress of willing slaves. - J.R.R. Tolkien - The Two Towers. A/N. this is a companion piece to "Behold the King"
Flash of Foresight
“You may see them now, my lord.” Denethor impatiently pushed past the waiting woman to see his wife and new son. He was vaguely disappointed. He already had the heir he needed. A daughter would have been nice; a child he need have no fear of being called upon to sacrifice in Gondor’s endless struggles against the Dark Lord. Finduilas sat propped in the vast bed, clutching a small bundle, her face almost as white as the sheets. She looked exhausted. Denethor felt a stab of fear. The Healers had warned him she was not strong. She smiled. “We have a fine boy, my lord. Another jewel for us to cherish. Would you like to hold him?” Rather reluctantly Denethor took the babe from his wife and studied the tiny creature. Its face looked as wrinkled as an old man’s and was framed by a fuzz of black hair. Altogether, it was small and not too fair to look upon, though Finduilas seemed to think otherwise. Boromir had been a beautiful baby. Almost immediately, the infant began to howl. With sudden foresight Denethor knew this child was destined to somehow supplant his brother. Shuddering, he returned him to his mother. A/N A companion piece to the New Arrival.I imagine these events taking place a few moments before the events in that ficlet.
The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. Dedicated to Raksha Boromir cautiously approached the bed. His mother was sitting up, gazing adoringly at a shawl wrapped bundle. “Come, meet your new brother,” said Finduilas. ”Is Faramir not fair?” “He is very small,” Boromir replied, studying the red, wrinkled face without enthusiasm. “I thought you said I was to have a new playmate?” “You will have to wait for him to grow,” Finduilas explained. “I’d rather have a puppy. Puppies are more fun than babies!” Boromir scowled. Faramir suddenly opened his eyes and looked at his brother, stretching out small chubby arms. Boromir tentatively extended a finger, which the baby grasped. “He is strong!” The older boy was impressed. “He will grown into a big strapping boy, just like you,” said Finduilas smiling. I will need you to help me look after him until then.” “Yes, mama,” Boromir replied obediently. Finduilas‘s heart swelled with pride at the sight of her sons together. Her two precious little jewels. How she loved them! “Promise me you will protect your brother?” She tried to disguise the sudden shiver down her spine. “I promise.” “Good boy, now go and play while mama rests.” “I think I like having a brother!” Boromir skipped away smiling. A/N The first mention of Faramir's existence as himself was May 6, 1944 in Tolkien's letter to his son Christopher.
Inheritance With grateful thanks to Raksha. The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. The Ring is rightfully mine. By taking it, I would set Frodo free from a burden too great for one so small to bear. Without my aid, the poor hobbit could not even have reached Rivendell. Once I wield it, none will withstand me. Denethor will yield the rod and I shall be King. I can claim Arwen as my bride. No more waiting; no more hiding in the shadows! Sauron shall be defeated and I will rule over all. Aragorn started at his own folly. The Ring had betrayed Isildur; it would not claim his heir as victim too. A/N Inspired by a recent drabble on Tanqui's LJ
The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate Written for Raksha's Faramir week. With thanks to her. Tamer of Man and Beast Éomer was leaving the stables as Aragorn and Faramir approached. The King of Rohan was ruefully rubbing his arm. “What ails you, my friend?” Aragorn enquired. “The new colt! Never did I think to encounter a horse I could not tame!” Faramir approached the stall, whispering softly to the enraged animal. Aragorn and Éomer watched enthralled as the colt gradually calmed. When Faramir offered him an apple, he nuzzled the Steward affectionately. “Whoever would have believed it?” exclaimed Éomer in astonishment. Aragorn laughed. “There is more to our Faramir than meets the eye, he can tame both man and beast.
The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. No profit has been nor will be made from it.
The Honour of the House “All hail!” The Rohirrim raised their drinking horns. Aragorn and Faramir smiled their thanks. “Let us drink to the memory of the Glorious Dead, Théoden King and all our forefathers who fell fighting with honour! All hail” “All hail!” the assembly echoed with one voice. Faramir’s cheeks flushed with shame. His father had died an ignominious death unlike the fathers of his companions. Even as Théoden had fallen upon the field, Denethor had ignited his own pyre. Aragorn’s kindly gaze fell upon him. Later that evening Éomer sat alone with his guests. “You have restored the honour of your House,” Aragorn told his Steward. “I have wrought no great deeds.” Faramir stared fixedly at the fire. “Who resisted the Ring and helped the Hobbits? Who braved the Nazgûl might? Who gave Gondor into my safekeeping and is rebuilding Ithilien anew? Whose wisdom helps me govern wisely?” Aragorn smiled at his Steward, needing no answers to his questions. “And who healed my sister’s heart and brought her happiness?” said Éomer. “Why, you of course, Faramir!” Faramir turned from the fire and faced them, his head held high. A/N Wishing all my readers in the USA a happy holiday.
Green The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. No profit has been ,nor will be made from this story. To Faramir, the colour green had always been a grim reminder of war. It was after all, the shade of the uniforms that he and his fellow Rangers wore to conceal them from the Enemy. The drabness had mirrored the sorrow in his heart as his father declined and Gondor with him. Each day the Dark Lord’s power had increased. Everything had seemed drained of life and colour by Sauron’s evil power. Now that drabness had vanished. Each colour seemed brighter and more vibrant. The sky was bluer and unclouded by the fumes of Mordor. It was the green though, that caught Faramir’s eye as he rode across the Pelennor one morning. Every tree was clothed in its spring finery of fresh green leaves. The birds flew from tree to tree, twittering joyfully as they built their nests. He too would build his own home soon at Emyn Arnen and nest there with his fair lady. Green was her favourite colour, the hue of her people’s banners. Never before in living memory had the fields been so lush and verdant, promising the most abundant harvest in living memory. It seemed the earth itself was rejoicing at Sauron’s defeat and the coming of the King. A/N. This was written for the AA List prompt," Green" and also entered in the "Summer in Ithilien" challenge.
No Regrets The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate "Do you ever regret?” Aragorn asked Faramir as the two men rode abreast through Faramir’s lands. “Regret what?” The younger man looked puzzled. “That you are not Ruling Steward,” said the King. Faramir laughed aloud. ”How could I, when I have all this?” He gestured around him. Fields once battlegrounds were now covered by waving corn and scarlet poppies. Honeysuckle and wild roses bedecked the hedgerows. Butterflies and bees flitted from flower to flower, blackbirds and thrushes sang sweetly in the treetops. “I have the fairest garden in Gondor to share with my Éowyn. What more could any man want?” A/N This was written especially for "The Summer in Ithilien " challenge, where it won the drabble section, no great achievment,as there were only 3 entries !
The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. With thanks to Raksha Autumn
He used to dread these days, heralding the hardship of a long northern winter.
A/N You can see an illustrated version of this drabble on my site at http://www1.freewebs.com/lindahoyland/impressions.htm This was written as a Hobbit Birthday Gift for my friends on LJ on September 15th.
The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate.
Acquittal
Aragorn sat watching his Queen playing with their children in the gardens. He laughed as Eldarion vainly chased a butterfly. Then his expression suddenly became sombre. “What ails you, my friend?” asked Faramir coming to sit beside him. “Arwen will never see her kinsfolk again because she chose to wed me,” Aragorn said sadly. “She had centuries in which to choose a bridegroom from amongst the Eldar,” Faramir replied. ”She chose you. Together you have created a new family. Do not feel guilty, but rather rejoice that she found in you the joy that had eluded her until you met.”
A/N this was written for the prompt "Guilty" in the AA Group. Wishing all my readers a healthy and Happy New year
The Wink of an Eye The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate.No profit has been,nor will be made from this story. With grateful thanks to Raksha who inspired this drabble. Denethor unveiled the Seeing Stone with eager hands. What would it now reveal of the Dark Lord's evil: distant armies riding, Orcs massing, or the Witch-king himself? Instead, Denethor glimpsed the terrible lidless Eye of Barad-dûr. He steeled himself and looked into its fell gaze. The Eye winked at him. Certain his mind was playing tricks, Denethor looked again. The Eye winked back. Shuddering, Denethor re-covered the Orb; then hastened from the Tower on trembling legs. Sauron stretched his mouth in a lipless grin. It pleased him to trifle with Gondor's solemn Steward. He would drive him to madness yet!
The Rival Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. No profit has been, nor will be made from this story I look at the unconscious man’s face. How like his father he is! Should Sauron fall, Denethor’s remaining son would be the last obstacle between my hopes of Gondor’s crown and winning Arwen’s hand. I am exhausted, yet Gandalf requests I heal my rival: the man who could destroy all my hopes, a man now hovering near death. I take Faramir’s hand and feel his brow. I sense a man of quality and goodness. I cannot allow this man’s life to be forfeit to the Dark Lord when I could prevent it. Whatever it costs me, I must save him. A/N. A very personal view of a favourite moment from LOTR. Written for the "Difficult Decisions "Challenge.
The Shadow These characters belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain. With grateful thanks to Raksha My shadow haunts me still: in dreams, in the looking- glass. I loathed him, yet I loved him too. For were we not akin? He understood the Ring's power, its consuming grasp, like no other. My friends say they understand, but they are mistaken. Even Sam. Especially Sam. His honest, kindly soul could never comprehend what bound me to Sméagol and binds me still. Did I lose my finger or my shadow on the mountain? All unwilling, he destroyed the Ring when I could not. Can a shadow cross the Sundering Sea? I hope not, or my journey is vain.
Wishing all my readers in the USA a very happy Thanksgiving |
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