The Path That Lies Before Him
Title: The Path That Lies Before Him
Authors: Leale & Valour
Rating: PG
Summary: "Faramir saw his entire world and still saw nothing he valued."
Disclaimer: SO not ours. Faramir, Boromir, and their father belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.
Feedback: Like coffee, gets us up in the morning.
Comments: 205 words, co-written by valour and k_leale. We're getting better.
The Path That Lies Before Him
by Valour and Leale
The world seemed to stretch out forever, like a vast thing that doesn't understand all the greatness it contains. Faramir felt on the edge of that world. Felt capable of seeing all the paths that lay before him. Sitting on the ledge, overlooking Minas Tirith, Faramir saw his entire world and still saw nothing he valued.
The fields between Gondor and Osgiliath were his brother's domain, a place to gambol and fight, but his brother gamboled and fought no longer. His brother was broken, washed upon a distant shore. His grace nothing but a memory. As with the glory of Gondor.
The city was his father's realm, a place to work and rule, but his father worked and ruled no longer. His father raged, demanded, accosted. Faramir thought perhaps his father had gone mad. He wished, perhaps, that it was that simple.
It seemed that Faramir fit in no space between the vast heavens and the great Earth and yet he could not abandon this home that he loved to the mechanics of evil forces.
He could not abandon what Boromir had held dear. And so, he chose, turning from the landscape. He would fight for this land, until his death or until his salvation.
Authors: Leale & Valour
Rating: PG
Summary: "Faramir saw his entire world and still saw nothing he valued."
Disclaimer: SO not ours. Faramir, Boromir, and their father belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.
Feedback: Like coffee, gets us up in the morning.
Comments: 205 words, co-written by valour and k_leale. We're getting better.
The Path That Lies Before Him
by Valour and Leale
The world seemed to stretch out forever, like a vast thing that doesn't understand all the greatness it contains. Faramir felt on the edge of that world. Felt capable of seeing all the paths that lay before him. Sitting on the ledge, overlooking Minas Tirith, Faramir saw his entire world and still saw nothing he valued.
The fields between Gondor and Osgiliath were his brother's domain, a place to gambol and fight, but his brother gamboled and fought no longer. His brother was broken, washed upon a distant shore. His grace nothing but a memory. As with the glory of Gondor.
The city was his father's realm, a place to work and rule, but his father worked and ruled no longer. His father raged, demanded, accosted. Faramir thought perhaps his father had gone mad. He wished, perhaps, that it was that simple.
It seemed that Faramir fit in no space between the vast heavens and the great Earth and yet he could not abandon this home that he loved to the mechanics of evil forces.
He could not abandon what Boromir had held dear. And so, he chose, turning from the landscape. He would fight for this land, until his death or until his salvation.