Impressions

Impressions
Impressions by Linda Hoyland

These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain


Half hearted - Elrond - Co-written with Raksha

"I have pledged myself to Aragorn, adar; and given him my heart. Together we shall abide the Doom of Men."

My daughter’s words strike me like a blow. Long have I feared the day when a child of mine would forsake the Eldar. I still miss my brother, through all the long years since we were sundered.

Were Aragorn an Elf, I could rejoice with my whole heart. None of my many fosterlings have become so close a son to me as Estel.

And yet, if my brother chose a mortal life, how can I deny it to my child?







The Mission - Faramir

“Your brother shall go to Imladris,” Denethor said firmly to his younger son. “I have granted him the errand.”

“I had the dream several times, father, Boromir had it but once,” Faramir protested. ”Maybe he dreamed, because I told him of my vision.”

“I have decided and will not be gainsaid,” said the Steward, looking at Faramir sharply.

If this dream portended what he thought it might, he was not risking this impressionable wizard’s pupil of a son on such a mission. Should the heir to the sword -that -was broken come forth, he feared Faramir’s head would be turned.

A/N


This was my first attempt at writing a drabble. The challenge in the "There and Back" community inspired me to try.

The idea of Denethor fearing to send Faramir on the mission came about in e mail discussions on the subject with Raksha some months ago and was her idea.

The conversation in the story takes place in July 3018





The Parting Gift - Galadriel

I could have turned him away; made certain he never passed my borders to behold her again. Instead, I bade him welcome, had a bath prepared and fine garments laid out for him.

Joy had long eluded Arwen. I feared her fading. Aragorn ached with emptiness. I saw into his heart and hers.

Destiny dictates that they be united.

Today I bestow the bride gift upon him.

The adoration in his eyes at her name awes me. I lose much at his gaining. Yet, he is worthy indeed.

Though I am doomed to diminish, their fruit will flourish.

I rejoice.

A/N. The events take place as the Fellowship takes leave of Galadriel. She is looking back to events of almost 40 years earlier.




Last Thoughts - Boromir

I wish I could have seen you one last time, Faramir.

Perhaps it is better this way. I failed to fulfil the mission that you would have claimed. Would you have succumbed so easily, little brother? I sought only to bring glory to Gondor.

My eyes grow dim. Elendil’s heir is beside me, holding my hand. Weeping, he blesses me.

I have no choice but to charge him with saving our people.

Had I not fallen this day, would I have hailed him as king? Would I have let this Ranger from the North supplant our father?

I know not......

A/N


This is a sequel to my story “The Slave of the Ring”.


The events take place in the book on 26th February 3019





Blessed by Hope- Éomer - Co-written with Raksha

Hope has long faded from the Riddermark. Yet yield I will not! While I can still bear blade, I shall fight the fierce foes, defending lord and land and my shadowed House.

Today we slew many Orcs, though we lost brave comrades in the battle. I was weary.

Then I espied three strangers, seemingly springing from the grass to ask my aid.

Do I dream? Elves and Dwarves are known in tales of sorcery. But never have I seen the like of the man who stands before me. He stirs my soul.

The light in his eyes kindles hope anew

A/N .The events in this drabble take place in the book on the last day of February in 3019.



Thengling mighty -Théoden

With grateful thanks to Raksha for suggesting the title and beta reading.

For, behold, the darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people: but the LORD shall arise upon thee, and his glory shall be seen upon thee. And the Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising. Isaiah 60 2-3

Darkness enshrouded him. Deep darkness. He knew not for how long. Day followed day, month followed month, and year followed year.

The children of his House tried in vain to lift his spirits. The darkness though was stronger.

Wormtongue's words seemed wisdom, lulling him back to lethargy when inklings of awareness dawned. Dark were his days and darker his disgrace.

Then hope entered the hall. The wizard once grey garbed, now gleamed white. Stretching forth his staff, he kindled anew the King's fading flame.


Darkness dissipated.


Théoden rode forth fighting. Never shone his sun more brightly than at its setting.

A/N Théoden was healed by Gandalf on March 2nd 3019 and died in battle on March 15th.




A Man of Worth - Éowyn

Why does no one understand? I cannot lie here. I want to fight and die beside my brother and beside him, though he loves me not.

What hope remains for me?

The Steward turns to look at me, his gaze both stern and sad. My heart leaps amazed. It were almost as if l looked upon the Lord Aragorn. I sense rare nobility and great strength within this man too.

He gently smiles upon me; his grey eyes kind and insightful. I sense an inner pain there, reflecting mine own.

Maybe Lord Aragorn is not the only man of worth?




This is my version of Éowyn’s first impression of Faramir. at the first meeting Tolkien described in his book .I imagine it takes place around March 20th,depending on how quickly they recover from their injuries. We know the Host departs on March 18th from Minas Tirith.

I imagine this taking place two days after my story “Facing the Darkness” ends.




Flame and Shadow – Aragorn

The King, his Queen beside him, lit the bonfire. It first flickered, then flared to full flame.

Aragorn drew Andúril and stepped away, hailing the year’s rebirth. The firelight rose behind him, seeming to wreath his sword and noble features in living flame.

Faramir hung back within the shadows.

“Come forth and stand beside me,” Aragorn invited.

“A new age has dawned, the returned King should greet the year,” the Steward answered.

“What is the future without the past?” Aragorn replied. “Our land needs both. Together we shall build Gondor anew.”

As he spoke, the bells proclaimed the sun reborn.

A/N .I imagine the events taking place during the Winter Solstice of 3019 after "The White Tree" but before "Shadow and Thought."





The Right Choice - Arwen


I dream of her often, how I imagined our reunion would be, her loving embrace, her joyous laughter.

Now it can never be. I shall not see my mother until the ending of the world. I have made my choice.

My son starts to cry. I take him from his cradle and put him to my breast. He suckles contentedly. The love I feel for him is overwhelming. I understand now the truly wondrous depths of a mother’s love.

Aragorn awakes beside me. He smiles at me, his eyes filled with adoration.

I have chosen rightly. My mother will understand.




A/N . We do not know when Eldarion was born in Tolkien’s version of events.

In my stories this takes place near the end of “Burden of Guilt” and could be a missing scene from the story.




The Lesson - Aragorn and Faramir

The covered object stood in the centre of the table.

Faramir approached it hesitantly. He was known as a tamer of man and beast, but this thing and the memories it evoked caused even his valiant heart to quail.

Yet, learn to use it he must, if he were to prove a worthy Steward of the Realm.

“You do not have to do this, my friend,” Aragorn said gently.

“I must,” Faramir replied. ”It cannot destroy me as it did my father. Sauron is no more.”

“I will teach you how best to master it,” Aragorn replied, unveiling the palantír.

A/N I imagine this scene-taking place sometime after my current story in the second year of the Fourth Age.






Odious Orcs - co written with Raksha

Hidden in a tree, Aragorn watched as the Orcs kicked and beat Legolas and tore off his tunic. They then tied him to the very tree where Aragorn sheltered, and began to whip the Elf.

Legolas uttered no sound as the cruel thongs scored his fair Elven flesh with bloody raised wheals.

“Elendil!“ Aragorn howled, leaping from the tree. Taken by surprise, the vile Orcs stood no chance.

Hastily stepping over their corpses, Aragorn untied Legolas.

“How are you, mellon nin?” he asked anxiously.

“I’m fine, Estel,” Legolas replied, blinking his big blue eyes. Smiling, he fainted into Aragorn’s arms.


A/N. This is a parody and completely AU.It is not linked to my other stories.




Seeing Red

Faramir wept bitterly, tears pouring from his blue eyes.

“Stop crying, boy, or I’ll beat you again!” Denethor said harshly.

“I’m crying because you don’t love me, daddy!”

“It is unlikely I even am your father - you have red hair!” Denethor roared.

“Could the renowned Captain Thorongil be my daddy then?” Faramir asked hopefully, dodging a blow from the enraged Steward’s hand.

“Impossible!” Denethor snapped. “The scoundrel left before you were begotten. He was dark too.”

Faramir looked disappointed, then cheered up as a new thought struck him.

”Boromir does not have dark hair either,” he remarked.

Denethor exploded.


A/N.This is of course,Movieverse and has no connection to my other stories about Faramir



Beloved Hero - A man and his tree.

The tree saw the man approach. It was love; or rather lust at first sight.

The fact that he was pierced with arrows only made him more appealing in its bark-shrouded eyes.

Overcome, the man collapsed. The tree moved forward to support him and caress him with its tender green branches. It shed its leaves to prove a soft bed for him to lie upon.

One of man’s companions’s approached and knelt at his side. Jealously, the tree dropped twigs upon him, but he heeded them not.


The wounded hero breathed his last. The tree wept bitter tears of sap.



A/N. This is a parody, AU and to be taken with a large pinch of salt





The Wink of an Eye

Denethor unveiled the Seeing Stone with eager hands. What would it now reveal of the Dark Lord's evil: distant armies riding, Orcs massing, or the Witch-king himself?

Instead, Denethor glimpsed the terrible lidless Eye of Barad-dûr. He steeled himself and looked into its fell gaze.

The Eye winked at him.

Certain his mind was playing tricks, Denethor looked again.

The Eye winked back.

Shuddering, Denethor re-covered the Orb; then hastened from the Tower on trembling legs.

Sauron stretched his mouth in a lipless grin. It pleased him to trifle with Gondor's solemn Steward. He would drive him to madness yet!

Graphic - Device of Hador by JRR Tolkien created by nerwende.










Further Impressions
The Dawn of Hope

For all my foresight, it grieves me to see my little girl in pain.

My daughter bears her ordeal with the dignity expected a chieftain’s wife. Only the crushing grip on my hand betrays her agony.

She cries out only when the babe enters the world.

“A fine boy!” exclaims the midwife, “What will you and your lord call him?”

She hands the babe to me while she tends my daughter. Instead of crying, he looks into my eyes. I know then that hope has dawned at last for our people.

Gilraen smiles at her son. ”His name is Aragorn.”


This was written to mark Aragorn's birthday and is inspired by this passage from 'The tale of Aragorn and Arwen."
'But Ivorwen, his wife, who was also foresighted, answered: "The more need of haste! The days are darkening before the storm, and great things are to come. If these two wed now, hope may be born for our people; but if they delay, it will not come while this age lasts."



Darkening Days




With thanks to Raksha

One by one, death claimed our friends. First, Éomer and the Hobbits, now Faramir.

Each death seemed to diminish Estel a little, especially Faramir’s.

They were so alike, kindred souls, the last of Númenor.

I saw our Steward, once so vigorous and hearty, slowly fading, until the Doom of Men overcame him.

“I hope I shall depart with the same accepting grace,” my husband tells me, weeping anguished tears. “I too, am growing old.”

Foreboding fills my heart, knowing that Estel must one day follow him. I shall taste the bitterness of mortality with him. Slowly, the days grow darker.


A/N


Faramir died in year 82 of the Fourth Age. Aragorn lived for another 38 years.



Walk no more in Shadows

“Walk no more in shadows, but awake,” I tell him. I sense so many shadows, not all caused by Sauron’s minions.

Those shades reach far back into the past, overshadowing the small child deprived of a mother's love, the restless youth vainly striving for his father’s approval; the darkness of a brother’s deeds and death. Darkest of all is the shadow of the father slain by his own hand, who would have consigned his son to the flames.

Walk no more in shadows cast by others. Awake, O Jewel of Gondor, to walk in the sun at my right hand!



Awakening

Faramir’s eyes open, the clear grey of a true child of Númenor. He resembles me as a son might. His eyes meet mine.

I expect to see confusion in his gaze. Instead, he looks at me with love and recognition, almost as if he expected to see me.

“What does the king command?” he asks me, thus bringing closer my dreams of marriage and heirs.

Love springs between us. Friendship and fealty both, kindled in that instant.

I smile, my heart gladdened to have snatched this prize from Sauron’s grasp.

Gondor has need of this son and so will I.



Written for Raksha's Faramir week. With thanks to her.

Tamer of Man and Beast



Éomer was leaving the stables as Aragorn and Faramir approached. The King of Rohan was ruefully rubbing his arm.

“What ails you, my friend?” Aragorn enquired.

“The new colt! Never did I think to encounter a horse I could not tame!”

Faramir approached the stall, whispering softly to the enraged animal. Aragorn and Éomer watched enthralled as the colt gradually calmed. When Faramir offered him an apple, he nuzzled the Steward affectionately.

“Whoever would have believed it?” exclaimed Éomer in astonishment.

Aragorn laughed. “There is more to our Faramir than meets the eye, he can tame both man and beast.”

Inheritance

With grateful thanks to Raksha.


The Ring is rightfully mine. By taking it, I would set Frodo free from a burden too great for one so small to bear. Without my aid, the poor hobbit could not even have reached Rivendell.

Once I wield it, none will withstand me. Denethor will yield the rod and I shall be King. I can claim Arwen as my bride. No more waiting; no more hiding in the shadows! Sauron shall be defeated and I will rule over all.

Aragorn started at his own folly. The Ring had betrayed Isildur; it would not claim his heir as victim too.


A/N Inspired by a recent drabble on Tanqui's LJ



Death of Hope

I always knew this dreaded day would come. Yet nothing could prepare me for it. I pleaded with him to stay, much to my shame. Would it have been easier if I had watched him growing ever weaker, losing everything that made him the man he was? I know not.

He departed with such courage, full of hope, my Estel to his last breath.
Is this the true Gift of Men that more than memories await?

Even in death his glory was not diminished.

I feel half of my spirit departed with him. I am left but a walking shadow.

A/N Dedicated to the memory of a very dear friend.



The Honour of the House

“Let us drink toasts!” proposed Éomer. “Let us drink a welcome to our guests!”

“All hail!” The Rohirrim raised their drinking horns.

Aragorn and Faramir smiled their thanks.

“Let us drink to the memory of the Glorious Dead, Théoden King and all our forefathers who fell fighting with honour! All hail”

“All hail!” the assembly echoed with one voice.

Faramir’s cheeks flushed with shame. His father had died an ignominious death unlike the fathers of his companions. Even as Théoden had fallen upon the field, Denethor had ignited his own pyre.

Aragorn’s kindly gaze fell upon him.

Later that evening Éomer sat alone with his guests.

“You have restored the honour of your House,” Aragorn told his Steward.

“I have wrought no great deeds.” Faramir stared fixedly at the fire.

“Who resisted the Ring and helped the Hobbits? Who braved the Nazgûl might? Who gave Gondor into my safekeeping and is rebuilding Ithilien anew? Whose wisdom helps me govern wisely?” Aragorn smiled at his Steward, needing no answers to his questions.

“And who healed my sister’s heart and brought her happiness?” said Éomer. “Why, you of course, Faramir!”

Faramir turned from the fire and faced them, his head held high.





Green



With thanks to Raksha.

To Faramir, green had always been a grim reminder of war. It was after all, the shade of the uniforms that he and his fellow Rangers wore to conceal them from the Enemy. The drabness had mirrored the sorrow in his heart as his father declined and Gondor with him. Each day the Dark Lord’s power had increased. Everything had seemed drained of life and colour by Sauron’s evil power.

Now that drabness had vanished. Each colour seemed brighter and more vibrant. The sky was bluer and unclouded by the fumes of Mordor. It was the green though, that caught Faramir’s eye as he rode through Ithilien’s woods one morning.

Every tree was clothed in its finery of fresh summer leaves. The birds flew from tree to tree, twittering joyfully as they build their nests. He too would build his own home soon at Emyn Arnen and nest there with his lady. Green was her favourite colour, the hue of her people’s banners.

Never before in living memory had the fields been so lush and verdant, promising the most abundant harvest in living memory. It seemed the earth itself was rejoicing at Sauron’s defeat and the coming of the King.




No Regrets

“Do you ever regret?” Aragorn asked Faramir as the two men rode abreast through Faramir’s lands.

“Regret what?” The younger man looked puzzled.

“That you are not Ruling Steward,” said the King.

Faramir laughed aloud. ”How could I, when I have all this?” He gestured around him. Fields once battlegrounds were now covered by waving corn and scarlet poppies. Honeysuckle and wild roses bedecked the hedgerows. Butterflies and bees flitted from flower to flower, blackbirds and thrushes sang sweetly in the treetops.

“I have the fairest garden in Gondor to share with my Éowyn. What more could any man want?”



Autumn

Wth thanks to Raksha

The days were shortening, the leaves slowly turning red and gold.

He used to dread these days, heralding the hardship of a long northern winter.

No longer did his spirits fall with the tumbling leaves. Cold nights could be spent by a warm fire with his wife and children and the cheerful company of good friends.

Sometimes on summer days, he lamented his loss of freedom to wander in the wilds, feeling sun upon his skin and the wind in his hair.

Curled on cold nights in his wife's warm embrace, Aragorn Elessar counted the advantages of hearth and home.

icon by annwyn55




Acquittal


Aragorn sat watching his Queen playing with their children in the gardens. He laughed as Eldarion vainly chased a butterfly. Then his expression suddenly became sombre.

“What ails you, my friend?” asked Faramir coming to sit beside him.

“Arwen will never see her kinsfolk again because she chose to wed me,” Aragorn said sadly.

“She had centuries in which to choose a bridegroom from amongst the Eldar,” Faramir replied. ”She chose you. Together you have created a new family. Do not feel guilty, but rather rejoice that she found in you the joy that had eluded her until you met.”



The Wink of an Eye

With grateful thanks to Raksha who inspired this drabble.

Denethor unveiled the Seeing Stone with eager hands. What would it now reveal of the Dark Lord's evil: distant armies riding, Orcs massing, or the Witch-king himself?

Instead, Denethor glimpsed the terrible lidless Eye of Barad-dûr. He steeled himself and looked into its fell gaze.

The Eye winked at him.

Certain his mind was playing tricks, Denethor looked again.

The Eye winked back.

Shuddering, Denethor re-covered the Orb; then hastened from the Tower on trembling legs.

Sauron stretched his mouth in a lipless grin. It pleased him to trifle with Gondor's solemn Steward. He would drive him to madness yet!



The Rival


I look at the unconscious man’s face. How like his father he is!

Should Sauron fall, Denethor’s remaining son would be the last obstacle between my hopes of Gondor’s crown and winning Arwen’s hand.

I am exhausted, yet Gandalf requests I heal my rival: the man who could destroy all my hopes, a man now hovering near death.

I take Faramir’s hand and feel his brow. I sense a man of quality and goodness. I cannot allow this man’s life to be forfeit to the Dark Lord when I could prevent it.

Whatever it costs me, I must save him.

A/N. A very personal view of a favourite moment from LOTR. Written for the "Difficult Decisions "Challenge.