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Fates Mirror (PG) Print

Written by Suryallee

07 January 2012 | 6550 words

Tolkien and all of his works do not belong to me in any form or way, I never planned in the past to make money from this nor do I plan or want to do so in the future! This is just plain Fan-work, nothing more.
Type; Oneshot
Rating; PG
Summary; Little Faramir goes onto the adventure of his life.
Pairings; Legolas/Faramir (kind of).
Characters appearing in the story; Thranduil, Denethor, Legolas, Faramir, (Less in person but mentioned) Gandalf, Boromir, Estel/ Aragorn, Elladan, Elrohir, Elrond, Galadriel, Isildur, Elendil, Anarion, and others.
Genre; AU
Warnings, This is slightly AU! My grammar and stile since I am Native German and this has not been beta read!
Other; This is a bit dark in some ways, at least to me. I tried to not go with the Canon in which Thranduil is a complete jerk the most of the times. I happen to like him, yup, nods. However, I believe he can be ruthless if he wants to get a point across to someone. Furthermore, this story is a dark and slightly different take on a German fairytale called the Earlking I think in English. I German it is der Erlkönig for those who can read my language.
Notes: I took on a challenge on the Faramir Fiction Archive last night. This, points down, somehow did not let me get some sleep, so I wrote it down until 01.00 a clock in the morning!

This an answer to 6th Anniversary Challenge: Green Apples
by Geale.

Well, this is what I made out of it… hope you and Geale will enjoy it^^ Please leave me a nice feedback if you wish, Suryallee

Fates Mirror

“This is unacceptable, he is the only one that can inherit my seat!” Denethor, Steward of Gondor hollered through the throne room. His face red from his anger already bloomed with white blots of suppressed rage, what made his sight a truly unbecoming one to the observer. The one, known under many names as such as Gandalf just shrugged. “It is as it is, my Lord Steward. Your eldest son failed the challenge. The cursed thing did trap him in the end; your unrestrained wants put onto his young shoulders have made Boromir fail the test.

Moreover, as you did say it yourself, only the one who is fated to be the next Steward of Gondor is able to manage this tool of evil. If one cannot withstand its seductiveness, then he is not the one who will one day rule Gondor in behalf of the rightful King!” He turned away from the enraged steward and moved to walk out of the room. As if he had an afterthought, his voice floated through the sunny summer air that innocently filled the room even when he had already reached the doors. “You know this all too, my Lord.

Besides that you have two sons and not only one as you likes to pretend all the time.”

Sitting heavily down onto the lesser throne of Gondor, Denethor balled his hands into fists. Never! Never would he have allowed his youngest to become steward. It was always the older one of the brothers he had groomed for this task in the past, Boromir, who Denethor had moulded after his own image to make him a worthy heir for Gondor’s throne! The lesser son of him, the one that preferred Books to swordplay… in a fuel of anger the steward threw the tiny book from the small table next to his throne. His younger son had written it for his Lord Father in hopes to show him how much he had learned. In his childish hope it would make his father proud… he had been wrong. If anything, it made his father, the man he only was allowed to address with My Lord, even madder. In Denethor’s mind, only a strong man could rule Gondor, a man like himself.

And not a bookworm and wizards pupil like his weaker, lesser son! Faramir, the one who had cost his beloved wife her life while giving birth to the cursed child. He was not even certain of his fatherhood of the boy; he looked nothing like the members of his line nor did Faramir share their love for swords and fighting and taking what they wanted. That brat was a miracle if he had not known for certain that his wife had been absolutely faithful to him all the time, Denethor would have sworn that he was not his!

He never saw the smallish form of a little boy move out of the room like a ghost.

On order of the steward, the item in question was moved on the same day into a chamber of one of the abandoned towers to let it rot there… together with a tiny book, that was thrown inside the room uncaringly with it from Denethor itself.

Two years came and went before the figure of a tiny child crept up the tall stone steps that lead up the abandoned old tower. A tiny and fair face, surrounded by unruly reddish blond locks, was set in a stubborn mask of childish determination to avenge his beloved big brother Boromir.

Yup, little Faramir wanted to take revenge for his beloved brother. Boromir always gave him his cakes in the past! He would defeat the bad evil thing… whatever it was… and then bring his brother back. Then… maybe then his Lord Father would love him too?

Further and further up the eight years old climbed the high set steps of the ancient staircase that had last seen the last king of Gondor step up upon them in the far past. Or so the tiny imp imagined it in his head. He had been six when he had mastered his writing skills enough to write a little book for his Lord Father. Nothing much, just a fairy tale he had made up to pass time. Now he was eight, well, nearly nine, but he did not look like it. Unlike his big brother, he still was no taller as a seven years old child and looked even younger as his right age too. Not even being smarter as all the other children of his age in Gondor together had made him grow up more in size… what angered his Lord Father all the time.

He had told Faramir that Boromir had already wielded a small sword at his age, where Faramir could only passably use his knife yet.

His early shown intelligence and able mind had been it what had made Gandalf take on him and teach the youth allots of things his Lord Father did not like him to learn like history. Faramir loved history! For a short moment, the tiny face filled with joy. Imagining heroes of long gone times and Elves… but he was forbidden to speak of them. All in Gondor were forbidden from it, they were no longer welcome here since ages past. Why, he had no real clue, only that it was so.

Then his face settled back into a mask of comically grim determination to lay siege to the foul thing that took his brother away!

Finally, an hour later the waif hit the last floor of the tower where the item had been thrown away into one of the reminding chambers there. Long unused from anyone, the tower itself was said to be fragile in the build. Eventually it would crumble from alone or be broken in to make place for a new one. Boromir had told Faramir that, to keep his little brother from going there when he was still around. Always he had worried about his little brother’s safety.

The first door Faramir tried was not bulging a bit.

The door was not locked from the outside or inside but seemingly stuck for some reason or another. He shrugged and tried the next further down the hallway. Stepping through it, he fast saw why the other was stuck. Through a hole in the wall, he could see the lights of Gondor far down. The other room’s ceiling and parts of the outer walls had crumbled in, now a thick wooden plank bolted the door closed.

He had to walk a little while through abandoned rooms, stripped bare of all furniture and tapestries. Occasionally a broken old chair or other things stood abandoned in a corner or leaned at the walls. But even the child could see that this place must have been once grand and fair. On some of the walls, he still could make out lavish paintings of a great battlefield. Everywhere were dying Elves, men, and even Dwarfs. Faramir concluded out of this that they showed the great battle of the last Alliance when Lord Isildur had defeated Sauron in the past.

Faramir had never liked the stories of said Lord much. He had always liked it much more to read about his Father Elendil and the first king of Gondor, Lord Anarion and promptly Faramir had been reprimanded from his Lord father because of this when he had once told this to a Guard. The ceilings were high and the rooms wide. Once, this place must have looked truly beautiful, now it was just a sad place full of old ghosts. On some places, the color still looked through the filth that now covered the tower rooms’ walls.

The tower was one of the older ones, out of the beginnings of Gondor. Faramir knew that from Gandalf.

It was differently build from the most others. With wide-open spaces and waterspout’s and artfully made Gargoyles on the outside rims, and in the past these rooms had held the grand suites of the former King’s wife’s or consort’s in the past. Faramir tried to imagine children playing in here and smiled softly. It must have been wonderful to grow up in the old tower and suddenly he felt sad for the sorry look it had now.

Three generations before his, the steward had closed it off fully, since the foundation was giving in and there was not enough money to repair the damages of time.

In the end, he reached the room the old Tower Guard had told him about in the past, the room Faramir suspected his Lord Father’s guards to have thrown the item into, along with his book. The latter had hurt Faramir greatly, since had worked so hard on it. In the past, this had once been the observation room of the old tower. Gripping his knife harder the youth tentatively gave the old Oakwood door a soft push. Nothing happened, the heavy thing refused to move. Scowling Faramir squared his tiny shoulder, sheathed his knife, a present of his doting big brother before he went to the three times cursed test, and pushed harder against the heavy old door.

In the end, he had to use his entire body strength to move it just enough to let him slip past. It promptly snapped back closed after his entrance, the boy shrugged it off; Boromir could help him to push it open later.

Inside it was surprisingly different as the rest of the tower before. It was not dark in here, and the walls still held some of their former coloring, a soft hue of green and dark blue. Great windows all around the walls let the last rays of the evening sun inside and some doves sat nesting in one of the near windows in the mists of the dust all around. Their purring made the child smile.

Not so creepy at all, Faramir thought. So now, where was the monster thing?!

Looking around he could only see the frame of an old bed without a mattress in one corner and a huge mirror standing in another corner between two windows. Nothing evil looking so far, Faramir was confused. The old bed was looking as if it would break by the softest touch; the huge mirror was partially covered with an old and dirty shawl. The frame of it looked odd to the child, as if it was made of metal and not wood. He walked over to look at it.

Who left such a beautiful mirror to stand abandoned into this old chamber when all other important things where taken out?

Faramir could not understand this; the old thing looked highly expensive and very well made. Maybe it had been even made of elven hands! The frame really was of metal that seem to glow in the late evening light and the mirror surface itself seemingly was made of pure silver from what Faramir could tell from his teachings from Gandalf about metals in the past. Elvish Runes run along the frame along with renderings of great ships that looked half like swans and half like ships, the pictures and writing too, looked like it had been written into the metal and not carved into and the boy marveled at the beauty of the object. He could not read the script but he hoped he would learn to do so from Gandalf in the future. He had promised it to Faramir to teach him elvish script.

Then he saw his tiny book and got confused.

How in the name of the Valar had his book ended up on top of the huge mirror?

On the top of the huge thing, a small part looked like a framing over the silver inlay with two exotic looking figurines on each end. It looked like an arch and once the shawl had maybe hung from it to protect the expensive silver surface from harm. On top of the arch, near the left figure of an eagle lay his tiny book, half on and half off the metal frame top. Chewing his bottom lip, Faramir thought of a way to get his book down. Then he suddenly walked over to the empty bed frame and tried to move the heavy thing over to the mirror to use it to climb onto it to get his book back down.

Of course, the universe or maybe the Valar themselves chose this very moment when his little fingers touched the book to make the old frame give and break under the startled boy. The flabbergasted Faramir could only try to lessen his sudden fall by pressing his hands to the silver mirror. Instantly he felt something pass through him what felt strangely like a call but before he could try to understand, he fell onto his bottom… hard.


When his book fell down onto Faramir’s poor head just a second later, another cry of pain joined the first one shortly after in the room.

Rubbing his sore head and bottom, the youth glared at the offending book for some minutes and tried not to cry. And try, was the key word here, because a few fat tears still escaped his firm watch. It hurt to land on hard stone the way Faramir had done and then to get a book on his poor head. Much!

“Why are you crying?”

The voice made Faramir look around wildly in confusion; where did the voice come from?! He had been alone in here, he was certain.

Seeing no one, Faramir shrugged it off and tried to stand, again the gently voice rung through the room.

“Why are you crying? Are you hurt?” This time Faramir rightfully tracked the oddly beautiful voice back to the huge mirror right in front of him. What confused him greatly; since when could mirrors speak?

Only to find out that the mirror was no longer empty nor did it only reflect back his own image any longer.

The silvery surface now showed him another child, maybe a boy in his age or a little older; he could not tell if the other was male or female, the being looked so delicate almost ethereal, with hair like spun gold and bright green eyes.

“Why do you life inside a mirror??” Faramir blurted out in his confusion instead to answer the question. The other child looked back at Faramir confused. “I do not! You do!” “Huh? I do not, I life in Gondor… how odd…” The solemn looking child inside the mirror nodded. “Yes. This is really strange. I also do not life inside a mirror, I live in Greenwood!”

Both children looked at the other confused, then both smiled at each other and giggled.

“Maybe it is like one of the seeing stones my tutor Gandalf told me about? The mirror I mean.” The other Childs eyes widened when Faramir mentioned his old tutor. “You know Gandalf?” Faramir nodded. “Yes, I do. He is sometimes my tutor and teaches me history and such. He is really funny too; Gandalf always tells me stories and such.” He told the other smiling and nodding. This seemed to impress the strange child in the mirror. Who, Faramir noted now, was a head taller than he was and was clutching a highly expensive looking boot, adorned with studded emeralds and other jewels to his chest all the time. Seeing Faramirs confused look at the big boot, the other looked shortly at it too and then he gave Faramir an amused smile.

“Oh, this belongs to my Adar, he told me to get it for him.”

“What is an Adar?” Faramir laid his finger on the silver surface of the mirror. The other child mirrored the motion whilst looking a bit confused. “Uhm… Adar is Adar?” Faramir let it fall; he could always ask Gandalf later, the old man would know of that, he had no doubt.

“I am Faramir, and you?” For the first time he saw the ears of his strange new friend peek through the loose hair. They had points like leaves. Faramir could not help as to gap at them in his shock. The other child smiled brightly. “I am Legolas Thrandulion pleas… you have round ears!” He gasped out astonished in a sudden rush.

“And yours are pointed!” Again, both youths squinted at each other, looking for more strange things on the other.

This moment choose a tall and unearthly looking man to enter the chamber Legolas was in. only to stop death in his tracks when he saw the little golden haired Legolas have a staring contest with a human child in it.

Striding fast over to them on long leather increased legs he addressed Faramir’s new friend.

“Legolas! I told you to stay away from the mirror…” He trailed off when he saw the look of anguish on Faramir’s features who promptly draw in his shoulders as one awaiting a blow and rightfully got the idea that the human child thought he was reproaching Legolas because of him.

Thranduil, King of Greenwood had never seen such a clear vision inside of the cursed thing before. The child was maybe eight or nine at best. One could not tell, he was so tiny and slim… did his parents not feet him enough, he asked himself silently gazing at the tiny looking boy. In addition, the boy showed signs of at least verbal abuse to choose from his reactions, of other kinds of abuse the king could and refused to tell. He was clothed into an old tunic that was much too small for him and much too thin looking for the weather of the season; the Elf wondered how a parent could let his child run around like that in such a time of the year. Outwardly, he showed nothing of his displeasure. Kneeling slowly down next to his son the mighty ruler put on a sincere and reassuring smile. “Now hello young one, and who might you be?”

Faramir found it hard to resist the smile of the beautiful man inside the mirror. Legolas had turned with a surprised mumbled ,Adar, when the tall and regal looking golden vision had entered. “Uhm… I… I am Faramir of Gondor sire, please don’t be mad at Legolas?” The tall Elf, and for that Faramir finally had recognized Legolas and the newcomer to be looked surprised back at him. “Why should I be angry at my Ion?” Seeing Faramir’s confused look Thranduil fast concluded that the boy did not really understand Elvish. The mirror let him understand some but not all. “Ion, means son, he is my Elfling or in your speech, child. And to the angry thing, is that how your father would react?”

Faramir looked down, his cheeks burning with shame.

He never saw the tall Elf shake his head with a sorrowful expression. “He must be… no. better not to speak of such!” Faramir looked confused up at the green-eyed Elf again. What did he mean with this? The tall Elf suddenly stood again and walked over to a small table. A shiny bowl filled with three green apples stood onto it. Taking one, the Elf slowly turned again. For a minute or two, his thoughtful gaze fixed onto Faramir who clutched his tiny book in one hand in apprehension to be under such scrutiny. The youth barely resisted the urge to hop from one leg to the other; the look of the older elf seemed to see right inside of him and into his very soul.

Turning again, Thranduil took another apple out of the bowl. “Say, Faramir, where do you hail from?”

Glad to have a safe topic again, even if his stomach was now softly growling at the sight of the green apples Faramir practically babbled out. “From Gondor, sire! My Lord Father is the Steward of Gondor. And my older brother is his heir… was the heir until some evil thing made him vanish. But I will slay the evil thingy and bring him back!” He bobbed his head up and down enthusiastically what made Legolas giggle madly.

The golden haired elf nodded and chuckled softly to himself in barely concealed mirth.

“As I thought.” Was all what Thranduil said; he walked over to Legolas and Faramir again. There he settled down and took Legolas onto one knee. He gave the Elven child one of the three green apples. The other he suddenly threw through the mirror. “Catch, Faramir!” And what shouldn’t have been possible suddenly was; the apple flew right through the surface like there was nothing there and hit the startled Faramir right in the chest.

The surprised and hungry boy caught it on reflex.

“Oh! Thank YOU my Lord!” Faramir also sat down grinning and rubbed the apple against his slightly dirty tunic. His Lord Father had told him he would not get better clothing until he could prove that he had learned to throw his knife right into the centre of the training puppet. Faramir trained every day since, but still he could not hit the centre. Besides that, it was late autumn and he was slightly freezing all the time.

“And your mother little one, where does she hail from?”

Faramir paused mid, bite. “Uh, Dol Amroth, I was told from Boromir. She died giving birth to me. My Lord Father forbids speaking of her.” Again, the scrutiny of the Elven eyes made the boy uncomfortable. “I thought so… eat your apple little one, you look famished.” Legolas had tugged softly on the older elf’s sleeve. Looking down the mighty Elf raised a golden brow in question.

“He says that Gandalf tutored him, Adar. Can he tutor me too?” At that, the green gaze went back to the human child that now heartily tried to inhale the apple as it looked. “Maybe, I don’t see why he shouldn’t Legolas.” The Elf fell silent for a minute then he suddenly looked down onto the little Elf child again. “Say, Ion, how would you like it to have a friend here in your age?” A sly grin played around the full lips of the Elf whose name Faramir still did not knew but that he somehow liked. He suddenly felt really sleepy and tired. Rubbing his eyes, he yawned cutely.

Behind Faramir, the hurried steps of heavy boots with metal caps did suddenly sound through the lower parts of the tower. Low curses and some muffled shouts of Faramir’s name accompanied the hurried approach of someone.

“Aww! Look Adar, Faramir is tired. And yes, I would love to have someone to play with… why do you ask?” The Elf just gave the Elf child an enigmatic smile. Then he suddenly looked up and at the door behind the now rather drugged to him looking Faramir. “Oh, nothing much, Ion. How would you like to have Faramir here with you?” Legolas beaming face practically lit the room. “I would like that really, really much, Adar!”

Faramir listened bewildered to the two’s speaking. What did the regal looking elf mean? Did he really mean he could stay with Legolas and him? Faramir would have loved to see Elves for real! And the room with the lush looking bed behind the two in the mirror looked soo invitingly nice! It was much nicer as Faramir’s own and always so cold rooms; the elves even had a merry fire burning. His fireplace only was lit in the deepest winter.

To harden him up, his father had said.

Behind the human child, the curses grew in volume slowly but steadily. Hastily running feet seemingly carried heavily armed guards and others through the maze of rooms inside the old tower. Heavy door were flung wide open and against walls in the haste of someone to pass them quickly.

Faramir seemed oblivious to everything else, he felt tired… so tired and all he wanted was to sleep now, if possible inside the lush looking bed with the big cushions inside of the elves room. He wished he could simply crawl over to the two inside the mirror and snuggle up to the big and nice looking Elf too.

The Elf just smiled at the weary looking boy. It was a strange smile, Faramir found. The smile looked almost triumphant and oddly, the boy suddenly felt like the said canary under the gaze of a huge green-eyed cat. Strangely, that did not seem to scare him as much as it should have normally. Faramir rather felt like drowning inside the two pools of emerald of the older Elf and did not mind it at all.

The green gaze went up to the door that now made screeching noises because someone from the other side tried persistently to open it with all their strength.

“Ah… then you shall have your wish Ion. I find it only befitting that a son of Gondor’s Stewards shall be your friend. And your new friend has more of our blood running through his veins, as he knows it yet. He will fit in here just fine when I am finished with educating him. I bet his father never realized how much of our blood runs inside the boy. Maybe that is why he was treated thusly… ahh, who knows? As I know the Istari, if he tutored him then he will have seen in Faramir the same that I have. If you want him, then you may have him, Legolas. After all, the humans still own me more lives as they and their Noldor friends can ever hope to repay!”

For a second the look of the older elf turned murderous, but Faramir still did not feel scared, it was not directed at him he realized fast.

Behind him, the door nearly gave in for a second but then the old door was stuck on the upturned titles of the floor again. Faramir never heard the voices that called out his name, nor did he hear the curses of the men who tried to open the heavy old Oakwood door.

In front of him, the Elf suddenly closed his eyes for a brief moment and seemed to calm down again. When he opened the green orbs again, his cunning smile was back. “Well, Ion why then don’t you just help him along?” The little Elf looked questionably up at the face of the older Elf before he shrugged the slim shoulders and simply did what the older had told him. To Faramir’s wonderment two small arms went smoothly through the silver surface and then Legolas held them out to him. With one look into the green eyes of the smiling Elf child, the boy tossed his tiny book through the mirror, laid his hands inside that of Legolas, and griped them.

With one tug, he practically fell face forward into the mirror and through it right into the lap of the older Elf and onto Legolas. Both children giggled madly at this. Waving over another Elf who had stood on guard just out of Faramir’s vision and slightly behind the huge mirror all the time, Thranduil deftly helped the Elf to take both laughing boys from out of his lap and told him to take both to Legolas rooms quickly. Then he rose gracefully and then he calmly went over to the bowl again to retrieve the last of the formerly three sparkling green apples out of it.

Leaning against the little table, he watched dispassionately the warriors finally break the door in. Denethor stepped through it just in time to see the tall Elven King bite heartily into the apple with a beam.

“Where is my Son Elfking?!”

Swallowing carefully Thranduil of Greenwood gave the human a cold smile. “Oh, now he is suddenly your son? After all the things you have made the child go through in the short years of his life?” Behind the Steward, the guards shifted uneasily around. Each of them had known of the treatment that the Lord had given his youngest since his birth, which had cost his wife’s live. None had liked it and many secretly blamed Denethor for the failure of his eldest two years prior and his line for the trouble in the first place.

“You can keep him if you want just give me my eldest back, you cursed sorcerer!”

The Elf laughed at this, it was not a nice laugh, more a bitter and cold one.

“Have your people forgotten to teach your children not to eat things out of our realms or given from us or to talk to things inside of mirrors?” He eyed the half-eaten apple in his hand with a wistful smile under the burning gaze of the incensed Steward thoughtfully. Thranduil of Greenwood shrugged when he got no answer.

“He was always a disappointment, no wonder he missed that details. I am certain he was told not to. He had his head always in the clouds anyways and not on his training as he should have! He never was like his older brother.”

The elven King shook his head. “The stupidity and excuses of you are disappointing, truly. I will keep the child, he has eaten my apple freely and now he is part of my realm! Under my rule, he shall not suffer anymore. He may learn to his heart’s content, I do not mind, quite the opposite is it actually; one always needs a wise advisor and young Faramir will grow into a lore master, of that I am sure. And to talk about your eldest that I have in my custody too since a couple of years; at least he is smarter as you ever have been! He has prospered much and I believe he will be glad to see his little brother again, don’t you think so too? He always worried himself sick because of him anyways, now he can freely dote on little Faramir again without to have to worry of the repercussions for the boy all the time.”

The elf watched the silently fuming steward with a chilly grin.

Throwing the rest of the apple into the fire where it suddenly did bust into greenish smoke Thranduil looked at it for a few minutes before his green eyes went back to Denethor’s grey ones with a malicious smirk on his lips.

“And after all, why should I send the young man back to you? He is rightfully mine to keep since Boromir luckily for him failed to do as he was told and talked back to me when he should not have done so. Such is the curse I bestowed on your line after your ancestor took the life of my people!” The last he spoke in an arctic and cruel voice.

“Not even Lord Elrond or Galadriel of the Noldor and Lothlorien will help your line now since your forefather murdered my people in cold blood when they only crossed your lands in order to get the second mirror to my allies the Lords of Dol Amroth! It was meant as a present to them and not ever meant to be owned by your house, Steward. Your ancestor stole and murdered them for it in his greed! For all I care your line can vanish from the face of Arda forever.

As long as your line continues, the eldest of each generation has to withstand one night against my wiles to become the next Steward, if you want it or not so it shall stay until the Kings of old return to Gondor. Only this way I can be certain that not another one like that one will ever rule Gondor again in their stead and it will make sure that your line will never abuse of their Steward role ever again.

Long I have waited for one of your mighty line to slip! One, worthy enough to be kept, that is. The most were just plain boring, cruel or uneducated fools, like you before. Well, if you leave out your Lord father, he was one of the very few that even I could like but I couldn’t sway him no matter what I tried and trust me; try a several times, I did! But those two children of yours…I wonder how you could father such children….must have taken after their mother what wouldn’t be a wonder since she was a princess from the line of my Allies…”

He did not seem to see or hear the angry scream of rage of the Steward on the other side of the mirror.

“However, they are mine now and so it shall stay. Rage as all as you want, you know my borders are enchanted and the wood is still full of the foul things that Sauron left behind when we drove him out, if you ever make it past the barrier that is. Not even Elrond Halfelven dares it against my will to come here. Being one of the more tolerable ones of his kin, which he is besides being my friend and Ally in this punishment of your line too.

But be content, Denethor of Gondor, it seems Boromir found someone here who holds his interest, as soon you will learn…although I wonder about it how You will like him… I rather bet that you will not. He certainly does not like you much, as far as I know it. What is not such a wonder since Elrond is raising him as his son in Rivendell. Young Faramir, I will keep him here in Greenwood with me I think. My son loves him already that much I could see and the child will be pleasant to have around here. He has gentle soul that you have nearly destroyed in your madness to rebuild yourself in your children, and he will make a fine friend for my Ion in the future. Farewell!”

With that, the mirror suddenly changed until it only reflected back the shocked guards and their furious and raving Lord. No longer could they see into the rooms of the Elven King of the great and enchanted Greenwood in the North. That no longer any man dared to step a foot into since the debacle ages past. Gondorian were shot on sight and then feed to the gigantic spiders of the enchanted wood. Only the Horse Lords could still use the old Forrest route until today.

Inside a big room inside the underground residence of the King, two small forms cuddled together inside a big bed under a thick mass of lush blankets. A fire in the fireplace warmed up the beautiful room filled with many wondrous toys and even a few bookshelves leaning on one wall. Faramir never had felt so warm and contend before in his life. He even saw his big brother again! The young boy was currently as happy as one could be. Boromir had tucked them both into the bed and than he had gone out with that friend of him whom he had called Estel. Faramir had decided that he liked that Estel friend of his big brother, the man had laughed a lot and had even played a little with Legolas and Faramir together with two stunningly beautiful male Elves who had looked like mirror images of each other.

He now even had a new friend of the Elven race that he could keep and no one was telling Faramir anymore not to play or to read if he wished it!

Beside him, the Elven child watched the dozing off Faramir with adoration in his eyes. The more he knew of Faramir the more little Legolas liked him. And his grown up friends, Estel of Imladris and his two adopted Brothers seem to like the little Brother of Boromir too. Legolas only ever had adults to play within the past. Now he had a friend around his age to make mischief with and he was very happy about that. He liked the loud Boromir, who in the beginning had much trouble to adjust, but since he had become close to Estel he had changed to a person Legolas could like.

In addition, he doted on his new friend, a plus in the little Elf’s mind.

He was much older as he looked, short from growing in the fashion of his kin. At least he could grow up with Faramir in a nearly even manner instead to stay little when the human grew up more. Suddenly Legolas got up and looked down at the slightly startled Faramir. “Whut?” Legolas just grinned. “I just had a splendid idea, Faramir!” The other gave him a bleary look. “Can I keep you with me when we are grown up? Like Estel has your brother I mean?” Faramir gazed up at the Elven Prince in confusion.

Estel and his big brother had a relationship that much his tired mind had found out. They looked clearly happy and besotted with each other. He shortly wondered how it was to have someone there who loved you for just being who you are…he liked Legolas, a big deal. The child nodded. “Sure! I think I would like that!” He told Legolas who promptly beamed down at Faramir and tugged the covers up around the other child to then lie down again and take Faramir into his small arms to hold him.

“Then I will keep you with me for forever!” With that, the green eyes lost their awareness and the elven child joined his new friend into sleep.

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9 Comment(s)

NB: Comments may contain spoilers!

Awe this is so cute… I loved the ending when Legolas asked if he could Faramir, because Estel had Boromir. So sweet is there going to be another addition. Well if not well that is okay I love how your story stopped.

— Angelstar3999    8 January 2012, 00:05    #

To Angelstar3999, Thank you^^ No this is a oneshot only. I am currently thinking about another of December’s challenges

Suryallee    8 January 2012, 12:46    #

First of all: welcome! (offers mug of beer/glass of champagne/cup of herbal tea) I hope you will feel comfortable in this pretty place! :)

I must say I like that sense of “classical” fairy tale that covers the story. When young Faramir roams the tower it reminded me of Sleeping Beauty (or maybe Snow White, because of the mirror). AND now I wonder what may have become of the brothers if they had grown up at the Elven court… certainly we can say the story about the ring would have gone a completely different way!

Plus: Ara- Estel being obviously a happy person who loves to laugh and play with the kids – that´s a very refreshing idea. :) Thank you for sharing!

— raven22372    9 January 2012, 14:14    #

Thanks ^^ (hands over some cakes to the drinks)
That feeling was what I was going for. Glad I archived that.
I wonder myself too. I surely would have been a interesting development to watch, thats certain.

— Suryallee    9 January 2012, 15:32    #

Hello Suryllee and welcome! :)

Wow, this is such a unique take on such a silly request! ;) I will agree with raven and say that I, too, really liked the feeling of classical fairytale here, because it creates a bit of a paradox: we’ve got Tolkien writing his tales and there are certainly elves (fairies, if you like) in them, but at the same time they are so removed (at least this is my opinion) from more “ordinary” fairy tales of (northern) European origin. So, in other words, it’s really fascinating to see these two different traditions woven together! It’s a lovely thing, too, because if I’m not completely lost in my knowledge of folklore, the German Erlkönig is somehow (loosely?) connected to the Scandinavian tales about elven maids seducing your average number of knights and lords and noblemen. And those ballads are just wonderful, and great favourites of mine! So you see, I think you went about this in a splendid way!

And I see that we are of the same persuasion regarding Thranduil. I love to see stories in which is not depicted as a monster (we’ve already got Denethor for that! ;)) but I am sure that he could be ruthless if he perceived it to be necessary. Anyway, I like him as a decent guy, even if he has his own agenda. Which he certainly does here, and which I find quite intriguing! Actually, I never think I’ve ever read a story containing a stand-off between Thranduil and Denethor and the idea is really cool. Somehow I’ve always seen them as very separated from each other, one not really having very much to do with the other.

Oh, and I positively adore the idea of them all being children at the same time. Of course, we all love Faramir here, but mini-Legolas is just adorable. ““Can I keep you with me when we are grown up?” Haha, I loved that!

So thank you for taking on my request! And for giving me a major change of perspective. I very much appreciate that!

Geale    9 January 2012, 18:56    #

This story reminds me of a tale I read in my German classes in high school.
Very nice.

— lille mermeid    9 January 2012, 22:50    #

Thank you soo much^^
Yes, it is very loosely connected to them. And to one named the/Der Schimmelreiter. Both are folk tales here. I love them to bits^^
These old tales have always fascinated me in my youth. I guess that why this one sounds so much like them.
Do you know the Irish tales of the Sidhe? It is a bit more like them, actually.
And no, I don’t like the stories with a Bad Thranduil inserted just to make a plot run. He was never portaid such from Tolkien. Nor was it actually his Father, Oropher. Just as hotheaded, in some way. But he focused on the Nolder and not on much on the other Elven realms or races.
At least, that is my gist of it.
In the case of Thranduil he Once did even tell us a little about, in the Little Hobbit Tale of his, and in there he descripted him as a grand monarch…honestly, how do the people think Legolas turned out like he did?

— Suryallee    10 January 2012, 13:47    #

@little meermaid
Thank you^^

— Suryallee    10 January 2012, 13:48    #

Ohhhhhhh!!!!! This is ADORABLE! Beautifully written!

— Asëa    3 January 2013, 06:17    #

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About the Author


I am a now 40 years old mother who likes to write and to draw in my rare free time, grins ruefully. I love Tolkien, especially the Silmarillion and Faramir of course^^
I was sick for the entire last year, my eyes are making troubles lately. there is not much more about me to write down I think, well besides that I live in Germany, in one of the most beautiful parts of my Country that is. At least in my humble opinion, I just happen to love the Forrest around my town^^!
Greetings back from Germany ___