FIC: The Season of Finduilas for foxrafer (LotR; Faramir, Boromir, Denethor, Legolas, Elboron)
Title: The Season of Finduilas
Author: artemisblack666
Fandom: LotR
Characters: Faramir, Boromir, Denethor, Legolas, Elboron
Disclaimer: The world and characters herein belong to the Tolkien Estate. Written under fair use; no infringement intended.
Summary: Written for foxrafer, who asked for a treat (happier, lighter themes) containing any characters.
The Season Of Finduilas
"...has gone to a better place..."
"...will be happier..."
"...my deepest condolences...so young..."
"...so beautiful...cruel that she was taken away so quickly..."
"...a pity..."
The five-year old boy nodded along with them, accepting their comments politely and blinked back his tears. He bowed and sought their leave. As he turned and forced himself not to run, he could feel their sympathetic glances and stares at his back.
As soon as he was out of their sight he ran all the way to his rooms. He pushed open his door and was thankful that there was no one inside...and remembered that now none but he and the cleaners would ever frequent these rooms again. The dark-haired beauty that he called 'Mother' would no longer come to comfort him when he had nightmares about an island drowning in the sea.
Tall for his age, the boy had no difficulty in closing the door shut. He walked across a small room and entered into a larger oval-shaped room with rich furnishings. He crossed this room too and pushed open yet another door. The room he now entered was smaller and clearly a bedroom. A fire crackled cheerfully in the hearth. The boy threw himself facedown on his huge bed and sobbed his heart his heart out.
Alone, he finally gave vent to his grief.
The huge apartments seemed too rich for a mere boy of five years but this was no ordinary boy. The boy was the second son of the Steward of Gondor. And today was the day that the fair Finduilas of Dol Amroth was finally laid to rest in cold stone.
Five years was too young for anyone to experience death. But yet Faramir had watched his mother go to bed, snuggled up beside her, gone to sleep besides a living if weak body and woken up with a corpse beside him.
His father on entering the room had perceived immediately that his beloved wife had left the confines of the world and his young son snuggling at his dead now wife's side, blinking owlishly.
Denethor had immediately taken hold of his son's arm and dragged him out of the bed. Faramir had struggled, afraid of this fell mood that had seemed to take hold of his father. The Steward had held on to his son, keeping him away from his mother. Denethor was simply afraid, afraid that somehow this son would be taken away him too. Seeing Faramir with his dead wife he had not been angry as the boy thought but the sight had simply struck terror into his heart. He did not want his son,his Faramir, to follow his mother into the afterlife yet.
Not before him.
He would not be able to bear it.
Faramir now lay on his bed, mourning for his mother for he had not even been allowed to mourn in public.
"Faramir?"
Faramir, startled, hastily wiped his cheeks before facing the newcomer. "Boromir." He said evenly.
Boromir stared at him sadly before striding up to the bed and perching upon it, he gathered his brother into his arms. Faramir struggled in his arms, trying to break free but Boromir was stronger. He simply let his younger brother wear himself out and only tightened his hold when Faramir gave up and began to sob against chest.
Faramir clung to him and cried his heart out as Boromir rocked him back and forth and whispered tender endearments in his ears. Faramir's sobs finally decreased to sniffles and his elder brother thought he had finally gone to sleep. But when he tried to let go his little brother clung to him.
Faramir mumbled something inaudibly. "What was that?" Boromir frowned.
"Is she happy now?"
"Yes she is." Boromir whispered, his own heart crying out in grief at the mention of their mother.
"Without us?"
Boromir froze, what was he supposed to say? To say their mother was unhappy would bring grief to Faramir and yet to say that she was happy without them would make Faramir think that Finduilas had not loved them.
"Why these questions, Fara?" Boromir tried a different tack.
"Everyone is saying that she is happier now, so we must have made her unhappy if she so wanted to leave." Faramir sniffled.
"Fara," Boromir started. "You must not believe that what everyone says is true. Mother was unhappy here, yes, but not because of us. There are reasons that we cannot understand. Mother...she...would have died anyway. It is the fate of men. And she would have died before us anyway."
"I hate it," snarled Faramir, "I hate it when people say they are sorry, but there're not. Sorry that she's dead."
"I hate it too." Boromir sighed. "But there are many who loved her and still do."
Boromir tenderly cleaned his brother's face, wiping all the tears whilst holding his own back.
"How did you know that I was here?" Faramir asked.
"Father saw you leave and sent me after you."
The two brothers sat in silence, holding each other. Outside, leaves kept falling.
Year 7 Of The Fourth Age Of The World, Ithilien
Faramir looked out of the window and tried to prevent the smile that threatened to break out on his face.
Wisps of conversation floated out to him, carried by the wind. A tall, slender figure was chasing a small child, neither of them caring to avoid the huge piles of withered leaves.
This went on for a while and then, finally, they stopped. The tall figure bended its legs hand on knees and appeared to be listening to the child. The tall and graceful figure straitened up and nodded. He took hold of the child and carrying him up, settled the child on his shoulders.
Laughing and singing they made their way towards the house. Laughing himself, Faramir bent over the paperwork that he was supposed to be going over. Steadily, the voices grew nearer to his study. One voice was high while the other was smooth. As the door burst open Faramir tried to arrange his looks into disapproving and turned towards the interlopers.
"I'm never going to get my work done," He said.
Legolas smirked as swung Elboron down and threw himself into a chair opposite Faramir. "And why should that bother me?"
"Papa!" His son exclaimed excitedly. "We messed up all the leaf piles! We jumped in them again and again," Elboron beamed.
"I'm sure the gardeners will be thrilled to hear that," Faramir looked at his son indulgently. "Speaking of work..." He said looking at Legolas.
"When was work ever mentioned?" Legolas asked horrified.
Faramir rolled his eyes. "You need to get over your phobia of paperwork."
Faramir found the spectacle of an elf pouting to be very amusing though he tried not to show it. "The number of Dwarf Ale caskets is very high this month. Why?" he demanded.
Legolas raised one fair eyebrow. "Gimli is my friend and he always waxes poetic about his ale so I thought-,"
"The last time you drank it you swore you'd rather shake hands with the Balrog in Moria instead," Faramir stated flatly.
Legolas gave him a beaming smile. Faramir was quite sure that had he been a woman he would have been swooning. "That was then. Our Elven colony here in Ithilien wants to try it again."
"No, you don't." Faramir was sure that some dastardly prank was going to be committed with the ale. After all Legolas did say that he would only wish it upon his enemies.
Legolas gave him a mock narrowed eyed look of anger. "Can I have some Dwarven ale?" Elboron asked guilelessly.
"No!" Both Legolas and Faramir exclaimed in unison.
Elboron pouted and started rummaging in the chest of drawers. Faramir gave his friend a flinty eyed look. "If I order it will you promise not to use the ale to cause chaos?"
Legolas dramatically leaned back and placed a hand upon his heart. "We are bosom friends!"
"And how I regret it."
"Your distrust wounds me deeply."
"Don't tempt me."
"Alright," Legolas straightened up in the chair and Faramir eyed him warily. "I will not cause chaos in Ithilien with the ale. Satisfied?"
"What about the rest of Middle-Earth?"
"Papa who's this?" Elboron asked.
"What?" Faramir twisted in his chair. A small portrait of a dark haired beautiful woman lay in his son's hands. He watched as Legolas took it from Elboron's hands. The fair elf tilted his head as he studied the woman. "She is very beautiful."
"Yes, she was," his friend and son looked at him in surprise. He drew Elboron to him by the hand and placed him in his lap. "That is Finduilas Elboron. She's your grandmother," Faramir regretted that Elboron had no living grandparents to speak of. Theoden and Denethor had died on the same day.
"Today..." Faramir faltered. "Today is the day she died actually." Legolas looked at him sympathetically. He knew what it was like to lose a mother at a young age.
As for Faramir, he remembered the day of her funeral. The same way the red leaves had fallen. The way his brother had followed and comforted him. The worries and fears of his father. He looked out the window. The leaves had fallen the same way on that day and now years later the falling leaves were the only thing that remained as they were while every thing else was changed. Gondor had a king now. Denethor and Boromir were dead. Faramir himself had changed. He was no longer the boy he had been back then. Gondor had a Steward whose name was not Boromir. The shadow of Mordor no longer lay upon his people. Elves were living in Ithilien and he called their leader a friend.
Faramir smiled. He gave the picture to his son, "Why don't you show this to your mother? I think she'll like it very much," Elboron smiled happily and scrambled down from his fathers lap ran out the door to track his mother down.
Legolas was smiling at him. "It is most surprising and pleasing to find that your wounds are healed when you think that even laying a hand on them would cause unbearable agony."
"It is." Faramir smiled. Looking upon his friend he realised that no matter how young Legolas looked he really was very old and very wise.
"Now, about the ale-,"
Faramir groaned and put his head in his hands. And he had been in such a good mood!
"Come, come!" Legolas laughed. "I promised that I wouldn't cause chaos in your lovely country didn't I?"
Faramir with dread finally signed the requisition for the imported ale as Legolas beamed at him.
"Oh I will be travelling to Minas Tirith for a few days," Legolas said casually.
Faramir got a feeling he hadn't got in a very long time. The same feeling he usually got whilst being the aim of an Orc broadsword. "Why?" he demanded.
"Why to visit my friends of course. You are not the only friend I have you know," Legolas sniffed disparagingly.
"Yes I do know and that is why I am so worried. Are you going after the ale has been delivered or before?"
Legolas looked at him admiringly. His human friend was very clever and astute. "After."
He laughed as Faramir gave another distressed groan and jumped from his chair laughing. He bid his friend a goodbye and walked out whistling. The ale was only part of the plan. He had to get the other things ready too. And he was quite sure when Faramir heard of the prank that would be played out in Minas Tirith, he would laugh. Hopefully.
Faramir looked at his desk in despair. Maybe he should send Beregond to the city to warn Elesser. Then he looked at the all the paperwork his king had foisted off on him. He loved his king, he really did but there was a limit.
Faramir leaned back in his chair and smirked.
Author: artemisblack666
Fandom: LotR
Characters: Faramir, Boromir, Denethor, Legolas, Elboron
Disclaimer: The world and characters herein belong to the Tolkien Estate. Written under fair use; no infringement intended.
Summary: Written for foxrafer, who asked for a treat (happier, lighter themes) containing any characters.
The Season Of Finduilas
"...has gone to a better place..."
"...will be happier..."
"...my deepest condolences...so young..."
"...so beautiful...cruel that she was taken away so quickly..."
"...a pity..."
The five-year old boy nodded along with them, accepting their comments politely and blinked back his tears. He bowed and sought their leave. As he turned and forced himself not to run, he could feel their sympathetic glances and stares at his back.
As soon as he was out of their sight he ran all the way to his rooms. He pushed open his door and was thankful that there was no one inside...and remembered that now none but he and the cleaners would ever frequent these rooms again. The dark-haired beauty that he called 'Mother' would no longer come to comfort him when he had nightmares about an island drowning in the sea.
Tall for his age, the boy had no difficulty in closing the door shut. He walked across a small room and entered into a larger oval-shaped room with rich furnishings. He crossed this room too and pushed open yet another door. The room he now entered was smaller and clearly a bedroom. A fire crackled cheerfully in the hearth. The boy threw himself facedown on his huge bed and sobbed his heart his heart out.
Alone, he finally gave vent to his grief.
The huge apartments seemed too rich for a mere boy of five years but this was no ordinary boy. The boy was the second son of the Steward of Gondor. And today was the day that the fair Finduilas of Dol Amroth was finally laid to rest in cold stone.
Five years was too young for anyone to experience death. But yet Faramir had watched his mother go to bed, snuggled up beside her, gone to sleep besides a living if weak body and woken up with a corpse beside him.
His father on entering the room had perceived immediately that his beloved wife had left the confines of the world and his young son snuggling at his dead now wife's side, blinking owlishly.
Denethor had immediately taken hold of his son's arm and dragged him out of the bed. Faramir had struggled, afraid of this fell mood that had seemed to take hold of his father. The Steward had held on to his son, keeping him away from his mother. Denethor was simply afraid, afraid that somehow this son would be taken away him too. Seeing Faramir with his dead wife he had not been angry as the boy thought but the sight had simply struck terror into his heart. He did not want his son,his Faramir, to follow his mother into the afterlife yet.
Not before him.
He would not be able to bear it.
Faramir now lay on his bed, mourning for his mother for he had not even been allowed to mourn in public.
"Faramir?"
Faramir, startled, hastily wiped his cheeks before facing the newcomer. "Boromir." He said evenly.
Boromir stared at him sadly before striding up to the bed and perching upon it, he gathered his brother into his arms. Faramir struggled in his arms, trying to break free but Boromir was stronger. He simply let his younger brother wear himself out and only tightened his hold when Faramir gave up and began to sob against chest.
Faramir clung to him and cried his heart out as Boromir rocked him back and forth and whispered tender endearments in his ears. Faramir's sobs finally decreased to sniffles and his elder brother thought he had finally gone to sleep. But when he tried to let go his little brother clung to him.
Faramir mumbled something inaudibly. "What was that?" Boromir frowned.
"Is she happy now?"
"Yes she is." Boromir whispered, his own heart crying out in grief at the mention of their mother.
"Without us?"
Boromir froze, what was he supposed to say? To say their mother was unhappy would bring grief to Faramir and yet to say that she was happy without them would make Faramir think that Finduilas had not loved them.
"Why these questions, Fara?" Boromir tried a different tack.
"Everyone is saying that she is happier now, so we must have made her unhappy if she so wanted to leave." Faramir sniffled.
"Fara," Boromir started. "You must not believe that what everyone says is true. Mother was unhappy here, yes, but not because of us. There are reasons that we cannot understand. Mother...she...would have died anyway. It is the fate of men. And she would have died before us anyway."
"I hate it," snarled Faramir, "I hate it when people say they are sorry, but there're not. Sorry that she's dead."
"I hate it too." Boromir sighed. "But there are many who loved her and still do."
Boromir tenderly cleaned his brother's face, wiping all the tears whilst holding his own back.
"How did you know that I was here?" Faramir asked.
"Father saw you leave and sent me after you."
The two brothers sat in silence, holding each other. Outside, leaves kept falling.
Year 7 Of The Fourth Age Of The World, Ithilien
Faramir looked out of the window and tried to prevent the smile that threatened to break out on his face.
Wisps of conversation floated out to him, carried by the wind. A tall, slender figure was chasing a small child, neither of them caring to avoid the huge piles of withered leaves.
This went on for a while and then, finally, they stopped. The tall figure bended its legs hand on knees and appeared to be listening to the child. The tall and graceful figure straitened up and nodded. He took hold of the child and carrying him up, settled the child on his shoulders.
Laughing and singing they made their way towards the house. Laughing himself, Faramir bent over the paperwork that he was supposed to be going over. Steadily, the voices grew nearer to his study. One voice was high while the other was smooth. As the door burst open Faramir tried to arrange his looks into disapproving and turned towards the interlopers.
"I'm never going to get my work done," He said.
Legolas smirked as swung Elboron down and threw himself into a chair opposite Faramir. "And why should that bother me?"
"Papa!" His son exclaimed excitedly. "We messed up all the leaf piles! We jumped in them again and again," Elboron beamed.
"I'm sure the gardeners will be thrilled to hear that," Faramir looked at his son indulgently. "Speaking of work..." He said looking at Legolas.
"When was work ever mentioned?" Legolas asked horrified.
Faramir rolled his eyes. "You need to get over your phobia of paperwork."
Faramir found the spectacle of an elf pouting to be very amusing though he tried not to show it. "The number of Dwarf Ale caskets is very high this month. Why?" he demanded.
Legolas raised one fair eyebrow. "Gimli is my friend and he always waxes poetic about his ale so I thought-,"
"The last time you drank it you swore you'd rather shake hands with the Balrog in Moria instead," Faramir stated flatly.
Legolas gave him a beaming smile. Faramir was quite sure that had he been a woman he would have been swooning. "That was then. Our Elven colony here in Ithilien wants to try it again."
"No, you don't." Faramir was sure that some dastardly prank was going to be committed with the ale. After all Legolas did say that he would only wish it upon his enemies.
Legolas gave him a mock narrowed eyed look of anger. "Can I have some Dwarven ale?" Elboron asked guilelessly.
"No!" Both Legolas and Faramir exclaimed in unison.
Elboron pouted and started rummaging in the chest of drawers. Faramir gave his friend a flinty eyed look. "If I order it will you promise not to use the ale to cause chaos?"
Legolas dramatically leaned back and placed a hand upon his heart. "We are bosom friends!"
"And how I regret it."
"Your distrust wounds me deeply."
"Don't tempt me."
"Alright," Legolas straightened up in the chair and Faramir eyed him warily. "I will not cause chaos in Ithilien with the ale. Satisfied?"
"What about the rest of Middle-Earth?"
"Papa who's this?" Elboron asked.
"What?" Faramir twisted in his chair. A small portrait of a dark haired beautiful woman lay in his son's hands. He watched as Legolas took it from Elboron's hands. The fair elf tilted his head as he studied the woman. "She is very beautiful."
"Yes, she was," his friend and son looked at him in surprise. He drew Elboron to him by the hand and placed him in his lap. "That is Finduilas Elboron. She's your grandmother," Faramir regretted that Elboron had no living grandparents to speak of. Theoden and Denethor had died on the same day.
"Today..." Faramir faltered. "Today is the day she died actually." Legolas looked at him sympathetically. He knew what it was like to lose a mother at a young age.
As for Faramir, he remembered the day of her funeral. The same way the red leaves had fallen. The way his brother had followed and comforted him. The worries and fears of his father. He looked out the window. The leaves had fallen the same way on that day and now years later the falling leaves were the only thing that remained as they were while every thing else was changed. Gondor had a king now. Denethor and Boromir were dead. Faramir himself had changed. He was no longer the boy he had been back then. Gondor had a Steward whose name was not Boromir. The shadow of Mordor no longer lay upon his people. Elves were living in Ithilien and he called their leader a friend.
Faramir smiled. He gave the picture to his son, "Why don't you show this to your mother? I think she'll like it very much," Elboron smiled happily and scrambled down from his fathers lap ran out the door to track his mother down.
Legolas was smiling at him. "It is most surprising and pleasing to find that your wounds are healed when you think that even laying a hand on them would cause unbearable agony."
"It is." Faramir smiled. Looking upon his friend he realised that no matter how young Legolas looked he really was very old and very wise.
"Now, about the ale-,"
Faramir groaned and put his head in his hands. And he had been in such a good mood!
"Come, come!" Legolas laughed. "I promised that I wouldn't cause chaos in your lovely country didn't I?"
Faramir with dread finally signed the requisition for the imported ale as Legolas beamed at him.
"Oh I will be travelling to Minas Tirith for a few days," Legolas said casually.
Faramir got a feeling he hadn't got in a very long time. The same feeling he usually got whilst being the aim of an Orc broadsword. "Why?" he demanded.
"Why to visit my friends of course. You are not the only friend I have you know," Legolas sniffed disparagingly.
"Yes I do know and that is why I am so worried. Are you going after the ale has been delivered or before?"
Legolas looked at him admiringly. His human friend was very clever and astute. "After."
He laughed as Faramir gave another distressed groan and jumped from his chair laughing. He bid his friend a goodbye and walked out whistling. The ale was only part of the plan. He had to get the other things ready too. And he was quite sure when Faramir heard of the prank that would be played out in Minas Tirith, he would laugh. Hopefully.
Faramir looked at his desk in despair. Maybe he should send Beregond to the city to warn Elesser. Then he looked at the all the paperwork his king had foisted off on him. He loved his king, he really did but there was a limit.
Faramir leaned back in his chair and smirked.