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Anniversaries

 

Summary: On the one year anniversary of his brother's death, Faramir grieves his passing.
 
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings. I"m just borrowing the characters and will return them albeit gently used.

 





The day dawned grey and cold. Standing on the balcony outside his chambers, Faramir shivered slightly in the morning chill, thankful for his warm cloak. Perhaps it was just as well that the skies promised rain for the weather fit his mood. His soul was as heavy as the storm clouds building upon the horizon. He closed his eyes, longing to bring back memories of happier times; times spent with his beloved brother at his side. Lost in his musings, he jumped slightly as soft, warm arms encircled him.

“What troubles you, my love?” Eowyn’s whisper broke the tenuous hold he’d maintained on his grief. Hot tears suddenly poured down his cheeks to drip into his lady’s golden tresses. She didn’t press him for answers. She simply held him tighter until he calmed enough to speak.

“It’s been…a…a year. A year… since….since… I…. lost him, and yet it… feels…. as though it were merely yesterday.” Faramir’s words were soft and choked. His voice emerged hoarse as though he had to force himself to speak. “Perhaps it is weak for me to grieve so deeply but he was my brother, my mentor and my best friend.”

“Nay, Faramir. ‘Tis no weakness to admit your heart is heavy. Especially when the one lost is most dear to you.” She murmured gently, her lips pressing to his cheek. “It is meet that you would share your grief with me, for have we not pledged ourselves to each other?”

“And yet you have lost those dear to you as well, beloved.” The prince stopped as Eowyn stubbornly shook her head.

“Stop.” She pressed her fingertips against his lips. “I would not begrudge you this pain. True, I have suffered loss as well, but you have lost the one most dear to you. Some wounds take longer to heal than others and this one carries with it a scar deeply imprinted upon your heart.”

Faramir drew a deep, shaky breath as he swept his palm across his face. His eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep and a deep seated fatigue played at his bones. He enfolded his wife in his arms and inhaled the soft scent of roses in her hair. “Eowyn, would you do me the honor of joining me tonight? Some of the rangers and I are going to say goodbye in our own way.”

“It would be my pleasure and my honor to be at your side.” She replied with a loving smile.

 

A few hours later, after the Steward and King had dismissed the court for a midday meal, Aragorn Elessar came to Faramir’s side as he retrieved a wayward parchment.

“Are you alright, mellon nin?” the king asked quietly, noting the weariness in his friend’s eyes. He suspected the reason for the other’s distress but was hesitant to mention it.

“I miss my brother.” Faramir replied candidly although his gaze remained focused on his desk and his voice was barely above a whisper. “Today is a year since he fell. A year since I heard his horn and knew in my heart that ill had befallen him.” He swallowed hard trying to clear the lump in his throat.

Aragorn placed his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. He too felt melancholy at the date, for he still regarded Boromir’s death as almost a failure on his part. “I should have been there. Perhaps if I had, your brother would still be alive.” He murmured almost to himself.

The prince’s head came up in surprise at the words, as he regarded his liege. “You blame yourself?” he asked hesitantly. This was something he had never considered.

The king sighed. “At times, I do. I failed both to protect him and to heal him. I was distracted by the call of the ring and the orcs were able to ambush us. When I saw how gravely he was injured…” his sentence trailed off as the hidden grief of his heart overwhelmed him. He bowed his head, tears filling his own eyes.

“It was not your fault. From what Pippen told me, the orcs were so numerous that it is a wonder any of you escaped.” Faramir protested, his grey eyes intensely studying the king’s face. “You are blameless in my eyes.” He continued, placing his hand over the other’s. A sudden idea occurred to him. “Would you join me this evening? There is something planned that may help to heal your pain.”

“Hannon le, mellon nin.” Aragorn murmured softly.

 

As Arnor slowly sank into the horizon, Faramir escorted Eowyn to the stables. Dressed in the garb of the Rangers, he joined several others robed in the same manner. The horses were quickly saddled, yet the prince delayed their departure. Eowyn glanced over at her husband from her place on Windfola.

“What is it, Faramir?” She enquired gently.

“I thought he was coming.” He answered quietly. “I guess…” He stopped himself as another cloaked figure abruptly joined them.

“Surely you did not despair of my coming, mellon nin?” Aragorn smirked at the look on his steward’s face.

“For a moment there, I did.” Faramir replied sheepishly.  A soft laugh was the only reply as the king accepted Roheryn’s reins from a stable boy and swung easily into the saddle. He rode at the prince’s left side as the small group clattered out of the yard. Soon they reached the banks of Anduin, in the shadow of Osgiliath’s ruins. There Faramir dismounted and the rest followed his lead. He pulled a small object from his saddlebags and turned to kneel at the edge of the water. Eowyn smiled as several of the others joined her husband. She recognized many of the faces among them including Damrod, Anborn and Beregond. She blinked at the sudden flare from a tinder box in her husband’s hand. The flame illuminated a small boat now floating in the river, as Faramir lit the small cloth sail. Several other blazes flared to life as the rangers created a miniature fleet of ships bobbing in the shallows of the great river. She stepped to her husband’s side, taking his hand in hers as he rose to his feet. He favored her with a smile that was both gentle and sad as his grey eyes sparkled with unshed tears. As the current of the Anduin began to sweep the boats downriver, the sails burned brightly in the gathering darkness. Even the moon was covered by high clouds, adding to the somber mood. Eowyn blinked back tears of her own as her beloved’s arm trembled in her grasp. Suddenly from behind her, a soft tenor rose in a soulful lament to the fallen captain.

 

O chì, chì mi na mòr-bheanna
O chì, chì mi na còrr-bheanna
O chì, chì mi na coireachan
Chì mi na sgoran fo cheò

 

Chì mi gun dàil an t-àite san d'rugadh mi
Cuirear orm fàilte sa chànain a thuigeas mi
Gheibh mi ann aoidh agus gràdh nuair a ruigeam
Nach reicinn air tunnachan òir

 

As the song continued other voices joined the first, blending and rising in the stillness of the night. Hesitant at the start, Faramir’s baritone soon strengthened as the men continued into the second verse. Even Aragorn surprised them by adding his own clear bass to the song.

Chì mi na coilltean, chì mi na doireachan
Chì mi ann màghan bàna is toraiche
Chì mi na féidh air làr nan coireachan
Falaicht' an trusgan de cheò

Beanntaichean àrda is àillidh leacainnean
Sluagh ann an còmhnuidh is còire cleachdainnean
'S aotrom mo cheum a' leum g'am faicinn
Is fanaidh mi tacan le deòin

Eowyn didn’t understand the words but she could sense the intent and release behind them. She found herself humming along as she closed her eyes and allowed her spirit to soar with the melodies. As the final chorus flew into the heavens, she felt confident enough to join her own voice with the men.

O chì, chì mi na mòr-bheanna
O chì, chì mi na còrr-bheanna
O chì, chì mi na coireachan
Chì mi na sgoran fo cheò[1]

 

When the last notes faded away, tears overwhelmed Faramir’s eyes and flowed freely down his face. He bowed his head, allowing his grief to surge within his heart. He sensed both the presence of his lady and his king at his side silently lending him solace. He wept until he was spent and the last of his reserves were gone. Aragorn embraced him, the king’s cheeks damp with his own tears.

“A fitting tribute, mellon nin. Boromir would be proud.” He comforted the younger man, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you Aragorn.” Faramir murmured softly as Eowyn pressed her face against his chest, adding her comfort.

“It was beautiful, my love.” She kissed him gently. “His life and legacy will never be forgotten.”

Slowly the little group returned to the horses as the glimmering light from the tiny boats continued to drift down the river. Abruptly, a shaft of moonlight illuminated them as the clouds parted. Faramir looked up as the silvery light struck his face and a smile crept across his features for his heart was suddenly lightened. A gentle breeze wafted across the water, ruffling his hair and bringing with it a sense of Boromir’s spirit, as if to say “Be at peace, little brother. I will always be watching over you.” Faramir’s smile broadened. His brother might be gone, but his essence would live on in the memories of those who loved him.

 

Translation :  The Mist Covered Mountains

Chorus
Oh, I see, I see the great mountains
Oh, I see, I see the lofty mountains
Oh, I see, I see the corries
I see the peaks beneath the mist

I see, straight away, the place of my birth
I will be welcomed in a language which I understand
I will receive hospitality and love when I reach there
That I would not trade for a ton of gold 

I see woods there, I see thickets there
I see fair, fertile fields there
I see the deer on the ground of the corries
Shrouded in a garment of mist

High moutains with lovely slopes
Folk there who are always kind
Light is my step when I go bounding to see them
And I will willingly remain there for a long while

Chorus

 

 

 

 

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[1] The Gaelic words of this song were written in 1856 by John Cameron of Ballachulish, Scotland, although the title was originally "Dùil ri Baile Chaolais fhaicinn" (Hoping to see Ballachulish), and it was set to an air adapted from the English tune "Johnny stays long at the Fair". It was a favorite of King George VI and was played at his funeral and was also played as a lament for President John F. Kennedy's funeral.

 

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