Tolkien Fan Fiction
| 4 |
| Chapter IV |
| 'Did it hurt?' I said. My brother stopped skimming stones into the sea and looked over at me. 'Did what hurt?' he said. 'Dying, of course,' I said sharply. 'What else would I want to ask you about?' Sometimes my brother used obtuseness as a cloak for sheer obstinacy. He thought for a moment. 'No, it didn't hurt,' he said, and then he gave me his broad smile. 'But the arrows did.' And then he laughed, and I had to join in, shaking my head at him. We sat in companionable silence for a while, enjoying the summer sun, and watching the waves lap the shore of the bay that protected Dol Amroth. The sand was warm and dry beneath my hand and, above us, the gulls wheeled, although I could not hear their cries. There was a fresh salt taste to the air. This was the home of my mother's brother, and oft we had come hither as children, visiting our kin, and we had been happy here. War had never allowed us to take our rest here as grown men. I had not thought to sit with him like this until after the Enemy was defeated. So blue was the Sea, and so soothing, I could have sat there for an age. But with a soft sigh, my brother stood up, and brushed the sand from himself. My eye fell on the strange belt of linked golden leaves about his waist, and I opened my mouth to ask him about it, but he spoke first. 'Time to go, brother,' he said, and stretched out his hand to me. I grasped it, and with his firm grip and strong arm he pulled me up easily. Then he brushed his fingers softly against my left cheek, and I felt the wound there throb, despite the gentleness of his touch. He looked sad for a moment, but then he set his hands on my shoulders and smiled at me; my brother, as I would always remember him, strong and handsome, fearless and fair; my dearest, most beloved friend. I smiled back at him, and he looked into my eyes. 'Goodbye, Faramir,' he said, with love. And then I woke up, to a cold day at the very end of February, and a stone city in mourning. One of my father's servants was bending over me. 'My lord Faramir,' he said, 'the lord steward requests that you attend him and the Council within the hour.' It seemed I had slept until past noon, and I could not deny I felt better for it, and for the lingering consolation of my dream. Quickly, I rose,and washed and dressed, and made for the Tower, where the Council was assembled. Well used were its members to seeing the sons of Denethor return hurt from the front, and none there had seen me arrive in the city unmarked. And I approached my father and kissed the ring on his finger, as was expected of me. He greeted me evenly, and if his keen glance lingered on my face, it was only for an instant. 'Good morrow, Lord Faramir. You have rested, I trust, after your late journey?' 'Thank you, sir,' I said softly, 'I have.' 'Then sit with us; for we have much to consider in the wake of the loss of our most beloved captain.' And so we debated, late into the day, although little had changed of our grim plight, save now we were bereft. It was nigh on midnight ere I was free to leave again for Osgiliath. Waiting for my horse to be made ready, I saw that it had started to rain, a thin but persistent drizzle that would have me thoroughly drenched by the time I reached the river. I pulled a face, and enjoyed while I could the warmth of the stable. 'Fine night for riding, my lord,' said the stableman with a wry grin. 'You're welcome to take my place, Galdor,' I said mildly. He gave a low chuckle, and then his expression changed and he became suddenly busy with his work. I turned to see what had caused this, and was astonished to behold my father standing there. I could not recall the last time he had come to see me set out, if ever he had. His hair was damp and, had his features been given to expressiveness, I would have said he looked as surprised as I was that he was there. Standing facing him, feeling somewhat awkward, I was suddenly very aware that we were not practiced in showing each other affection. And I smiled suddenly at this absurdity, and he frowned back, and I saw that I had disarmed him. 'You've chosen a miserable night to come outside, sir,' I said. 'Aye, well,' he answered, and looked behind me pointedly at Galdor, who was trying to be unobtrusive. I understood the unease of both of them, and sought to relieve their discomfort. 'You should go inside, sir. I think it's getting worse.' He looked up at the dark sky and, as I began to mount, he set his hand on my arm. I halted, and turned to face him. For a brief moment, I thought he might embrace me, but he just looked over my face with the same dark eyes that gazed back at me whenever I stood before a glass. |
Author's notes: The story continues in What The Thunder Said. I wasn't going to quote all of it, but below is the whole of part IV of The Waste Land from which the title and the quotation at the start come. It all just fits so well and it's not very long, so I hope you'll indulge me. Altariel February 4-7, 2002 Death by Water |