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Title: This, That and the Other Thing (#3622)
Author: GirlfromGondolin
Chapters: 6

Archive: Tolkien
Category: Lord of the Rings
Description: A collection of drabbles and ficlets written for various different events.
Published: 24 Oct 2007
Updated: 04 Nov 2007
Warnings: None
Type: General
Characters: Denethor; Faramir; Boromir: Finduilas


Chapter 1 - Telling Tales

Telling Tales

Dol Amroth, 2955 TA

“. . . and so, the beautiful princess married the king, and they lived together happily for many an age.” Angelimir shut the book, and considered his two little granddaughters.

“Grandfather, I think I should like to marry a king, when I am grown,” Finduilas said, as earnestly as possible for a five year-old.

“Don’t be a silly goose. You cannot marry the king. We don’t have a king! Only a steward.” Ivriniel was three years older, and was certain she was right about everything.

“Well, I shall marry the steward then!”

Angelimir laughed. “Oh, I think the steward is a bit too old for you, child. And besides, he is already married.”

“See? I told you so.” Ivriniel gave Finduilas a smug look, and stuck her tongue out at her sister for good measure. Finduilas was annoyed now, and glared at her sister, arms crossed defiantly.

“Fine, then. If I cannot marry the steward, I will marry his son!”


Chapter 2 - Learning to Fly

Learning to Fly

They say the Steward is cold and grim, that not even the blooming of spring brings him joy. But they did not see him long ago, on that windy spring day.

Minas Tirith, 2988 TA

Denethor leaned out of the tower window, and surveyed the courtyard. He could see the Tower Guards at their posts, a goodwife walking to the kitchens, and Faramir playing . . . or at least it seemed like playing, for the boy was behaving rather oddly.

Faramir had a very large piece of blue fabric with him. Every now and then, he would fling it into the wind, and then chase it until it fell down, usually right on top of him. The boy seemed disappointed at this, but nonetheless tried the same thing over and over again, with much the same result. Denethor watched for a few more moments, and then decided he had enough. It’s time to get to the bottom of this.

He walked swiftly to the courtyard. “Faramir. What is it that you are doing?”

Faramir greeted his father breathlessly, and held up the blue fabric. “It’s a kite, Father! I read about it in a book.”

Denethor could feel a guffaw coming on, at the sight of Faramir’s “kite”, but the earnest look on his son’s face made him hide his amusement, at least for the moment.

“That is not quite how you fly a kite, son. Would you like me to show you how?”

And that was how, on a windy spring day long ago, the Steward spent much of the day teaching his young son to fly a kite.


Chapter 3 - Everything is Illuminated

Everything is Illuminated

Ithilien, 3003 TA

There was something in the cave with him. A bat! He had never seen one before, except in books. He watched it in fascination for a moment, his curiosity overcoming his fear of the unknown creature. But bats are bad, they spread disease.

He picked up a stone, and readied to throw it, knowing his aim would be true and deadly. That was when he truly saw it. The bat was looking straight at him, gazing at him curiously, as if it had never seen a creature like him before.

He dropped the stone. In the dark, a light dawned on him. I will not kill any creature needlessly.

This was written for Cressida's birthday last year, and was inspired by one of Faramir's lines in The Two Towers.


Chapter 4 - A Bowl of Cherries

Gondor Is a Bowl of Cherries

It was market day. The land, once scorched and black, was now green and fruitful, its bounty not only the fruit of the earth and water, but also the hope that grew in the people's hearts.

He grabbed his young son's hand, making sure the boy did not run off and get lost in the crowd.

"What is your favorite thing here, Papa?"

"I like everything, lad. But I like cherries the most."

"Why cherries?"

"Because cherries are much like people. They come in many different shapes and sizes, and at first, they don't seem quite as good as they look, but if you are patient, you will discover that they are unexpectedly sweet at the end."


Chapter 5 - A Sense of Seasons

The Sense of Seasons

A Spring Scent

A gentle breeze blew through the City from the South, and Denethor took a deep breath, relishing the fresh air. It smelled new and green, but there was something else too. The scent of freesia carried on a sea breeze. It put him in mind of her, and he smiled. Hope and promise, carried on the wind.

Summer's Taste

He touched her face gently. "Warm and sweet. And tender and wonderful."
She wiped the corner of his mouth with her handkerchief, and gave him a sly smile. "Husband, is it just the berry pie you speak of? Or something else?"

Seeing Autumn

Dead leaves crunched under his feet, making him look down. The leaves had turned this year, before he had even noticed. Absently, he picked up a life and twirled it in his fingers. He could see it was mostly dry, its once reddish golden hue turned to the deep brown of decay. The tree will find life again, but how will I?

Winter to the Touch

He ripped the coverlet off the orb, desperate to see what was now beyond even the vision of the Seeing Stone. His hands rested on the glass, and he could not help but notice how cold it was, like the unrelenting ice storm that now gripped the City. He knew then he could not possibly see her in the orb's depths, for she could never abide a place so cold.

Sounds of Spring

He could hear a strange, but oddly familiar, sound and he looked out to find the source. Wind whipped hard against paper, wood and string as young Elboron learned to fly his new kite. A long-buried memory came to Faramir's mind, and he gave silent thanks. 'Twas a good lesson for spring, Father.


Chapter 6 - Quality

Quality

The battle was upon them. A young man, really barely more than a boy, watched as his captain rode to the front of the line, strong and brave, shouting orders and rousing the men as he led them into battle against an enemy of far greater number.

He shivered, and nudged the old soldier next to him. "We are so few. Why is the Captain-General not more afraid?"

The old man smiled. "He is not afraid, lad, because he knows there is nothing to fear. He knows that in Gondor, it is the quality of men that matters, not quantity."

A/N: This was written for illwynd's birthday, and the Captain-General is, of course, Boromir.
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