Not wanting to get drunk Faramir returns to his talan
-Bell Witch 16 March 2006
Faramir considered a moment and then shook his head. “One glass is enough.”
Aragorn actually looked disappointed.
“I should return to my talan now. I do thank you for both the sword and the wine—perhaps another glass at another time when I am less tired.”
“As you wish it,” said Aragorn with a nod.
They walked together most of the way back to Faramir’s talan before parting and Faramir watched the other man go.
Why had he been so kind? Was it simply true that he enjoyed company other than that of Elves or perhaps simply wished to make peace? The more he thought about it, the less it mattered to Faramir. They had spent time together and not argued but talked pleasantly. What might have happened had he stayed for another glass of wine?
No, best not to think of it. The dreams were enough to have to remember, dreams of a man who he had refused.
He thought more as he prepared for bed. He could grow to like Aragorn very much: he could grow to love him even. It was not the man with whom he had a problem, but the lie he had told.
And yet can you blame him for lying? It was for an important reason. That he could not reconcile. Had Aragorn told him how important it was that they join then likely he would have come of his own accord. He would have, Faramir was sure. He lay down. Time enough to consider this again in the morning.
Morning came and Faramir decided not to return to his talan directly after he'd eaten. Aragorn would be busy until later speaking with Mithrandir and the others. A walk would be a good way to think things through.
A lie was the wrong way to get him to come to Lorien, yes. But the reasoning was sound and he had accepted the proposal before he knew about the lie—and Aragorn seemed to be working to correct his mistake. Faramir smiled and then looked up. Seeing Haldir and his brothers, he turned quickly and took a different path.
Do not think of them, what they did at Arwen’s bidding. He was still fit to wed Aragorn and Aragorn still wanted him. Could he forgive the man? He thought that he could but needed a little more time to think about it. He had little—Denethor would soon arrive and put a stop to this, he was sure. Wed Aragorn quickly or return to Minas Tirith with his father? He would rather wed Aragorn, yes.
But he would not be bought with a sword and a glass of wine only. Perhaps in two days he could announce his decision. Yes, if Aragorn continued his wooing two more days then he would forgive the lie. It would mean that he was serious about winning back Faramir’s trust. If Aragorn gave up, then he would return home.
Please let him not give up.
The sound of horses neared and Faramir looked up, surprised to see four men in Gondorian livery. They did not wear full armour and he did not recognise them, but they seemed pleased to see him.
“Faramir!” One called. “We did not expect to see you out here.”
“I was walking. What do you here? I did not think that Lord Denethor would be arriving so soon.”
“He is not, not for two more days at least. We are his advance party, set to tell the Lady of his plans.”
The four men settled a short distance away from Faramir but did not dismount.
“He wished to give warning because he brings with him troops. He brings also ladies—to witness the joining, and wagons of goods as proof that he is not coming to war. We were sent ahead unburdened so that there will be no problem when the Steward’s party arrives.”
So he had the two days at least, that was good.
“Will you come now to speak with Lady Galadriel?” he asked.
The men shook their heads.
“We dare not enter the golden wood unbidden and they will know the moment we step across the border of their lands. We have letters for you to take; one for the Lady, and also for Mithrandir, Lord Elrond, and Aragorn. If you will deliver them we will wait here for the responses.”
Faramir smiled a little sheepishly. Soon to wed a king but now merely a carrier of messages. He walked forward to accept the letters the soldier was fishing out of his pack.
“I will take them and return as soon as possible. I am sure that you will be allowed to stay in Lorien until the rest of the party arrive.” He put up his hand to accept the documents.
A voice behind him spoke. “There is also a message for you, Lord Faramir.”
“Yes?” He half-turned and so missed the letters being pulled back, starting and kicking out when a strong arm lifted him from the ground. “What are you doing?”
“Delivering a message,” the first man said, jumping from his horse to help the other man subdue Faramir. “The message is that there will be no joining. Aragorn will not have you, nor will he have the throne of Arnor for long.”
“Ancir sent you!” Faramir twisted and kicked. His legs were held and one arm. The other struck out against the men who held him, trying to make them let go before the other two could join in and he would be lost.
“Very good, boy,” the first man said. He gave Faramir a punch to the gut that took the air out of him and then moved to grab the Elven sword. The man on the horse yanked hard on Faramir’s arm and a third man appeared and cuffed him across the face.
“Hold him still: get his hands.”
“Make sure he doesn’t drop anything.”
He had no chance against four men and soon Faramir found himself with his hands tied behind his back and a man behind him in the saddle. “Not that I’d mind if you tried to escape and broke your neck, but we are supposed to bring you with us.”
A noise in the trees caught his attention and he looked. It was Arwen. But he was not the only one who had seen her.
“Look at that,” one of the men marvelled.
“Never seen anything like that before.” This was the man holding Faramir. “I think she should come with us as well. We’ve some time to pass and I can’t think of a better way to make hours fly.”
Faramir’s breath caught. She was not in the borders of Lorien or Lady Galadriel would know. The men could get to her. They’d ruin her and she would fade and die.
“Arwen, run!” He yelled out before the man behind him grabbed at his face. He couldn’t shout and he couldn’t see which way she went. If she went away then at least she was safe. If she returned to Lorien then they would find her. Would she tell what she’d seen?
The man not on horseback searched the ground to ensure that nothing and been dropped before mounting again.
“Come on then,” he called. He growled at Faramir. “You have an appointment with King Ancir.”
If he could have spoken, he’d have denied the title. As it was, Faramir could do nothing but be carried away and hope that Arwen might have pity on him.
What happens next?
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