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Till We Have Faces  by Antane

Chapter Seventeen

A/N: This makes reference to other stories of mine about hobbit Yule celebrations. I don’t know how it was celebrated in Gondor so made something up here. Agape, if you or anyone else knows, do tell! Part of the song Frodo sings is adapted from Sauron Defeated and a little taken from Return of the King.

As the days passed, Boromir’s strength ever increased as did his bond with Frodo. Bilbo was happy to watch them. All mistrust was put to rest. The time was coming when he would leave this land, but he knew he could now. His lad was far from completely healed, but he could see glimpses of it amidst the ruins. His boy would be whole again. He found himself happy that one day Boromir would be also. That was a surprise but a pleasant one. He then knew he had come to think of the man completely differently.

One evening Boromir came back from a solitary walk after dark to where he lived with Frodo and Bilbo to find the two hobbits lighting small candles and placing them in the window.

“Happy Yule, Boromir,” Frodo said. Boromir was pleased to see that his smile reached his eyes.

“Is it a hobbit tradition to light candles? I remember how we welcomed it on the Quest with such.”

Frodo’s smile widened. “I have many memories of such celebrations from Brandy Hall, my first Yule after I came to live with Bilbo at Bag End, and yes, on the Quest.” His smile dimmed but did not disappear completely. “I thought to add to it this year and light candles for those we have lost and those we left behind who still live and love us and who we love.”

The Ring-bearer named each candle in turn. “This is for my parents, this is for Smeagol, this is for Sam, this is for Merry, this is for Pippin, this is for Elanor, this is for Aragorn, this is for Queen Arwen, this is for Faramir.” He named several others, including those of Sam’s children he had seen but had not yet come to be.

“Why do you have two for Merry and Pippin?” Boromir asked.

Frodo’s smiled widened. “I don’t, leastways not for the Merry and Pippin you knew. Sam and Rose will have many children. They just don’t know them all yet! But I saw them and I do not doubt they will have even more than that. I will not wonder that the number of candles will grow for a long while, and there will be more when Merry and Pippin wed.”

“But how will you know?”

Frodo’s smile grew until it took over his whole face. “I will know.”

Boromir looked up at Bilbo who smiled also. “The bonds of love do not break even over great distances,” the ancient hobbit said. “You love your brother. Frodo loves his.”

Boromir looked most at the candle named for Faramir.

Frodo handed him a taper. “Would you like to light some?”

“Yes, I would.” As Boromir did so, he named them. “This is for my mother, this is for my father. This is for my brother. This is for my king and my queen.”

Frodo’s smile was content. “It is good that Faramir should have two. Maybe in time there will even be three.”

Boromir smiled in return. “Another thing you know?”

“Pippin was just as fond as your brother as I am, perhaps even more so.”

Boromir looked at the candle he had named for Faramir and also for Denethor. He wondered about their father’s death, but he supposed the manner did not matter. His brother’s candle was bright and gave him life and warmth. His love and longing was a happy sadness, blessing him in its own way as Faramir always had. How he missed him! But he was here too. Their father’s brightness had long been dimmed but it shone again here.

“In Gondor we call the last day of the year Mettare and it is a holiday for us. As we celebrated Yule on our way to Mordor at the same time, we are not far apart in how we commemorate the passing year and the new one to come. We have large bonfires and feasts and sing many songs. My brother has a beautiful voice which you would only hear that one day. He is rich in lore and always sang of old heroes and lost loves, beautiful ladies and fearsome enemies. We were all enraptured and never wanted the night to end. It was tradition to stay up through the darkness and welcome the dawn with song. Then his voice would be the strongest and there would be many who would join it. Then the cock would crow and the voices would silence. My brother would always smile at me at the end. This is his favorite part of the year. Oh, to hear his voice once more!”

Boromir finally looked at the other candles that were lit. Bilbo pointed them out. “These are for my parents, and for Thorin, Balin, Kili, and Fili. This is for Sam. I will not see him again but if anyone shone near as bright as my lad here, it is Sam. He is here.”

“Yes,” Frodo agreed softly. “He is here.”

The Ring-bearer began to sign, at first quietly, then stronger, part of the same song he had heard Sam sing in the Tower, but he altered it a little.

“I sit and think of you;

I see you far away

Walking down the homely roads

on a bright and windy day.

It was merry then when you would run

to answer my call and take my hand

And now beyond the world I sit

Will you not hear my voice?

Will I not hear yours?”

Frodo was silent, then his smile spread and he nodded. “I will not say the Day is done, nor bid the Stars farewell.”Boromir looked at Frodo. “You must teach me that, little brother. I would wish to sing it to Faramir. But I already know I have heard his voice through you. I will sing so he can hear me.”

“Faramir told me once while the Shadow still pressed down upon us and the darkest days were yet to come, that perhaps one day we would sit by a wall and laugh at our griefs once the night had passed.”

Boromir smiled. “That sounds like something he would say. He was ever hopeful.”

“Let us laugh then in honor and remembrance.”

They both did so and it healed Boromir more than he knew to hear such. The hurts were deep but here the light shone through the cracks in the darkness. He took Frodo’s hand and sang the song with him several times and it reached out to the stars. After the last time, with faces shining, they faced Bilbo.

“Welcome to the family...my son,” Bilbo said.

Boromir was deeply moved. Frodo beamed at him and held Boromir’s hand tighter. The man wept. He had lost one family but he had gained another. Forever would this Mettare be blessed.

Outside the White Tower of Minas Tirith, Faramir looked up at the stars and smiled. His heart grew near to bursting with the joy that he had within him. His voice was stronger and richer that night than any had heard it. “He sings to his brother,” some said and it was true.





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