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The Coldest Winter (R) Print

Written by Geale

09 January 2009 | 77501 words

Lately I have been very inspired and have taken the time to nearly finish this story. What remains are three chapters, including this one, and one epilogue (yes, we will only have one of those, I think). All of this will be posted with about a week in between. Is that a good deal?

Chapter 22 – Choosing

Two days passed, during which Faramir – when he came back from his duties – said the palace was unnaturally quiet. Reportedly there was a tension in the air and when people spoke they did so in whispers more often than not. It had much to do with Deren still being locked away and awaiting his sentence, but it probably had equally as much to do with the rumours concerning the King and his Steward that Faramir finally had admitted swept through the palace like an invisible torrent .

Aragorn was regaining his strength and had even received a few approving nods from the healer. He slept much and his skin benefited from it as it needed undisturbed rest to heal properly. Still, what was most important to him was how Faramir acted around him; contrary to the rest of the palace, in the healing chamber there was not so much tension as there was hesitancy.

What had originally been intended as loving caresses turned into fumbling touches as at least one out two minds wavered and waited too long. When they both faltered, the result was disastrous. Three full cups of tea had so far fallen to the floor, causing the healer to mutter long sequences about ‘healed skin being scorched and injured all over again’ and ‘impossible patients’. In the end, he had had enough and ordered Faramir out of the room if he had no ‘proper business there’.

Aragorn sensed the great void that had appeared in their lives, a void desperately needing to be filled. After Faramir had accepted the fact that the King would have to sire heirs with another, and after he had set his own terms – terms that Aragorn would readily agree to every day of his life – a world of possibilities had opened up to them. Yet, neither of them seemed entirely sure on how to proceed. Faramir had slept in his own chamber, leaving Aragorn to heal, and the King would not dream of begging anything else of him. Not now.

Behind the heavy clouds, the winter sun was slanting towards the western horizon. The inner door opened and the healer stepped across the threshold. He fixed Aragorn with an intense gaze, seemingly making up his mind about something. After a few moments, he put his hands on his hips.

“So, my lord. Where will you have your supper?”

Aragorn stared at him in complete disbelief. “I beg your pardon?”

The healer made a face. “I forgive you. I asked you where you will take your supper?”

“You are letting me out of here?”

“For a couple of hours.”

A thousand ideas at once rushed into his head, but before he had the time to put them in any order, the healer continued.

“I have seen the two of you these past days… Tragic.” He shook his head. “To say the least. I recommend you do something about it.”

Nodding numbly, Aragorn could not agree more.

“Oh, and you just might wish to tackle the rumours while you are at it,” the healer suggested.

Going through them, one idea stood out more than the others, and Aragorn smiled.


The dining hall had been scrupulously altered to accommodate all of his needs and desires. The great table had been pushed far aside and all of the chairs were lined up against one wall. Instead of them, two large, cushioned armchairs were found by the fire-place where also stood a low table already dressed. The scene resembled the one in the antechamber where he had spent almost the entire night with Faramir, except that this one was grander and far more public.

If one took a closer look, it was immediately obvious that it had not been necessary at all to push the customary furniture so far away, but Aragorn had specifically ordered this to be done. He could not say if making a point had ever been more important to him, ignoring what he had done during his mission to extinguish Sauron.

The slow walk to the dining hall had truly been dreadful. It was the first time he was on his feet since after the attack and his body cursed him for even attempting to stand, much less walk. Heavily he had leaned on the two summoned guards, allowing them to carry most of his weight.

“It is good for you,” the healer had nodded contentedly as he stumbled down the hallway. “In any case you shall have to start walking if you do not wish to be confined to a bed for eternity.”

Aragorn had grid his teeth and kept on moving.

But now that he had finally arrived, he was glad he had done it. The fire and the various candles and torches cast a flaming glow about the room, bathing it in warm oranges and reds. The shadowed corners implied an intimacy that was most desired in the King’s heart. The healer had allowed him to drink one or two glasses of wine (‘but no more’) and had recommended him to eat as much as possible as it would ‘give him the strength to walk back to the healing chamber’. Aragorn suspected he would gladly have eaten a full hobbit breakfast – and the Second one – if that could in any way help him.

Pulling the blanket he had sent for earlier closer around him, he leaned back in the chair, saving that well-needed strength for whatever came next. If it came.

He had sent a message with the servants, summoning Faramir to supper in here, but not permitting them to relay any of what was currently going on in the dining hall. He sighed unwillingly, for some reason uncertain that the Steward would even show up. Maybe it was only he who had interpreted the hesitancy between them as hesitancy, while Faramir was feeling less and less inclined to share his time with him?

Pondering was useless, he knew that, but it was impossible to refrain from it.

Someone came to stir the fire and Aragorn could not help himself. “Did you find the Steward?” he inquired.

The girl bowed briskly. “It was not I who was entrusted with the message, but I have heard that he means to come here.”

“I see,” said Aragorn, silently cursing his nervousness and the fact that news seemed to travel more quickly among the servants than to him.

“He should be here shortly,” the girl added and then bowed once more and left.

“Great,” muttered Aragorn after her.

Soon though, anxiety surpassed his other feelings as his eyes fixed themselves upon the doorway and refused to let it go. The hallway lay in shade and it gave him the feeling of being separated from the rest of the world. This was all there was: the dimly lit dining hall, floating freely in the space between the cold winter raging outside, and the darkness opposite it. The darkness that led to wherever Faramir was.

When his eyes finally caught a small movement by the door, Aragorn was not sure what he was seeing; it might be a ghostly vision for all he knew. As it turned out, it was yet another servant, bringing a tray of warm bread. Sinking further into his chair, he watched the servant leave and then he closed his eyes.

He had been drifting in an imageless mist for some time when a low voice broke through his doze.

“Aragorn?”

Slowly opening his eyes, he immediately spotted the outline of Faramir hovering by the door.

“Aragorn?” he called out again, this time a bit louder.

Relief flooded through him as he pulled himself upright to the fervent complaints of his muscles.

“I am sorry, I drifted off.”

Faramir warily walked across the floor with a questioning look about him, and not a small amount of concern.

“Are you well? Aragorn, what is this?” he asked when he was finally standing near the King’s chair.

Still nervous, Aragorn searched his face. “Do you approve of it?”

“Approve?” echoed Faramir. “You are out of bed and that can only mean you walked here by yourself… Does the healer know?”

Before he could move away, Aragorn reached out and grasped his hand. “Yes, he knows. Do not worry so. Does it please you?”

Faramir blinked at him, but he did not pull away. “Is that a confession, Aragorn? Did you walk here by yourself?”

“I had help,” Aragorn admitted. “But, yes, I was on my very own feet.”

Suddenly smiling, Faramir sunk to his knees. “That is good news,” he said. “As long as it was not a foolish idea of yours that you carried out without asking permission?”

“Oh, believe me, he knows. He kept on encouraging me… it was brilliant.” Aragorn heard himself the grumpiness in his tone, but it only served to widen Faramir’s smile and so in the end he was happy.

“I am sorry I missed it.” Faramir rose to his feet and took in the scene before him. “Now, what _is _all of this?”

“I thought we needed some time together, outside the healing chamber,” explained Aragorn, once more feeling the cold pads of anxiety’s feet sneak across his chest.

“And by that you mean in plain sight,” surmised Faramir correctly.

“Yes.”

Nodding slowly, the Steward pulled his hand free and circled the back of Aragorn’s chair. As if he were treading upon glass, he carefully lowered himself into the armchair that was intended for him. When he offered it, his smile was weak.

“I do agree with you, Aragorn, but I am nervous.” His gaze fell and he drew a long breath. “If we do this… well, then we set things in motion, do we not?”

“We do,” said Aragorn quietly, fearful of scaring him away. “If you choose to do this, then it all begins.”

Faramir raised his eyes to meet him. “I am truly scared, Aragorn.”

“Would you believe me if I said I am so too?”

It took a lot of strength not to recapture the younger man’s hand, but Aragorn could clearly see the fright in his eyes and he would not force him. This was Faramir’s decision and Aragorn would never be completely happy if he knew he had somehow influenced the choice to be made, no matter if it was well-intended and only carried out in the name of a vain hope for a love-filled future.

Faramir appeared not to have heard, or he simply did not answer. He sat staring into the fire for long moments.

“Two choices,” he said at last. “Two very different paths may I walk in this life.” He did not take his eyes from the flames that greedily licked at the wood. “I could choose to deny this and live alone – for alone I would live. I could never love someone as I love you.” His voice was steady but low, as if he were speaking to himself rather than to the very person he was addressing. “I would see you every day, for I would not be able to leave, and it would pain my heart greatly to know that you were beyond my reach. Still, it would be typical of me.”

Aragorn swallowed and fought the urge to speak, to assure him that he would never be turned away. He held his tongue, though.

“Or I could choose this,” continued Faramir, nodding at the table before him, but clearly indicating much more than just the wine and the bread. “I could choose to live by your side as your lover… maybe even as your spouse.” There was a faint rising of colour in his cheeks at the words. “Yet it would pain me too, for at times you would have to leave me for another’s embrace.” He finally shifted his gaze to Aragorn. “I can only hope that those moments will be scarce and that your love will not diminish because of them. For my love for you could never lessen.”

He knew not if he was allowed to speak and so he stayed silent. It proved to be the right thing, for Faramir once more drew his eyes back to the fire.

“And this is the hour in which the choice is to be made,” he said, a touch of despair to his voice. “I thought, during the War, that that was the time when the most important choices of my life were to be made. I chose not to take the Ring from Frodo… I chose to fight for Osgiliath, in vain as it turned out, I even chose between life and death for myself… and yet, these choices seem so simple to me right now.”

You will never know how happy I am that you chose to live…

“So what do I do, Aragorn? Both paths will bring me pain.” Then, another smile ghosted across his fire lit face. “But I do believe that one of these would bring me greater joy than anything else ever could.” He turned to face Aragorn fully. “So, I choose you, and the love you have promised me.”

Feeling every tense muscle in his body finally relaxing, and letting out a long breath, Aragorn slumped back into his chair.

“You have it,” he whispered. “I give you all my love, for eternity.”

“Save some for your family and friends,” said Faramir, the smile continuously growing in his features. He gave his chair a push and aligned it with Aragorn’s. “Other than that, I accept your offer.”

“Done,” Aragorn smiled. “Done.”

“Now you may kiss me,” said Faramir with a teasing light in his eyes.

“Is that so? Remember I am an old, weary man who have not used his feet until this evening for many a day.”

Faramir snorted. “Since when do you need your feet to kiss me?”

“True,” Aragorn agreed and leaned forwards, capturing the mouth before him and giving Faramir the most tentative kiss he could muster.

Faramir pulled him closer still, and held him securely in his arms, surrounding him with a type of warmth that the fire had no chance of bringing any living creature. The Steward’s lips were soft upon his, and he gently brushed against them as he hoped to insert faith and trust in the future in the mind and body of his beloved.

When they drew apart, Faramir’s expressive eyes conveyed at least some of this, and Aragorn sent a short but grateful prayer to the Valar.

“So how does one go about this properly,” Faramir asked as he rested his head on the King’s shoulder.

“Do not expect an intelligent answer,” said Aragorn. “I have never done this before.” He eyed the table before them. “I was ordered to eat well…”

Chuckling, Faramir’s head bounced slightly where it lay. “Then I think we should start there,” he decided and abruptly rose from his seat. “Let me see if I can find one of the servants.”

However, as soon as he stood and with a searching gaze surveyed the room, two servants stepped out from the shadows and immediately set to work. Somewhat baffled, Faramir sank back down. “No wonder the place swarms with rumours,” he said in a wondrous tone.

“Which reminds me,” said Aragorn, pulling him close once more. “I was also ordered to tackle the very rumours that you speak of.”

“And here I was under the impression that your feet were too tired,” Faramir teased him but let himself be drawn into an embrace that was just a bit awkward as they were in different chairs.

Acknowledging the approaching servants with a nod, Aragorn only kissed the top of his head. In silence they watched as a steaming stew was placed before them and the bread was taken away and then brought back, reheated. When they seemingly were alone again, Faramir shook his head against Aragorn’s chest.

“I confess I am still nervous.”

“It will be fine. I am absolutely certain of it,” Aragorn told him, daring to believe his own words.

When he, an hour later, was back in his bed in the healing chamber, he still believed them. And he fell asleep to the beautiful sound of Faramir’s voice still ringing in his ears, as he chose love and not loneliness for them both.


The next morning dawned bright and clear, and so matched Aragorn’s mood perfectly. If he for a minute or two pretended that he could not feel his complaining legs, he felt more than ready to rise from his bed and seek out Faramir and proceed with his life. Utterly weary of staying in bed for so long, the King of Gondor proclaimed himself fit to leave the healing chamber. Or he would have done so, had there been anyone around to listen.

Therefore, he was happy when the door opened and revealed a shape blocking out the soft light floating about in the corridor outside.

“I am sorry to disturb you at such an early hour,” said a voice Aragorn had not expected and which quite efficiently killed his hopes of seeing Faramir. “May I enter?”

“Please.” Aragorn made a wide gesture with his hand, indicating the substantial lack of another presence in the chamber.

With a nod, the Elder stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “My sincerest wishes for your swift recovery, my lord.”

“Thank you,” said Aragorn and motioned towards a chair. “Will you take a seat?”

“Gratefully.” Behind the white beard, the Elder flashed a wry smile. “I do not like to admit to it, but I am not as young as I once was.”

His form was indeed stooped and the robes of light grey that fell from his shoulders only served to enlighten the effect that his long beard had. With a sigh he lowered himself to sit. “My back betrays me,” he said mournfully, shaking his head. “In the mornings, when I am rested, it lures me into thinking I could walk an entire circle around the City, but as soon as I have broken my fast I realise it is not so.”

“Old age is the curse of Men,” said Aragorn.

The Elder surveyed him with a curious eye. “Would you then prefer to live forever, my lord?”

More times than he could count had Aragorn considered this. “I was brought up among the Elves. During my first innocent years I believed that too was my fate. Upon realising I was mortal I unreservedly mourned for my destiny, not understanding how one could discover all there was to life in such a limited time.”

“And yet, we seem to find a path on which we tread through life.”

Smiling, Aragorn could only agree. “We do. By the Lady’s grace, indeed we do.”

The inquisitive light did not leave the eyes of the Elder but no subject that was too private to be breeched was brought up. Instead, Aragorn’s guest brought forth a parchment already partially covered in writing.

“My lord, we have yet to consider what to do with Deren.” He handed over the parchment to Aragorn. “I have already noted his crimes and the dates when they were carried out. It is all proper procedure of course, but you will see that I have gone into detail of an unusual kind. As these are grievous crimes indeed, I thought it best to be precise.”

Aragorn read through the paragraphs, realising for the first time how close he had been to entering the Halls. He was not used to considering his own existence as something incredibly vital, having never truly understood the significance of his birth and the importance of his well-being. But now, as the neatly penned words before his eyes hinted at possible disaster if the King of Men – who was he – had perished at the hands of a cruel mind and the icy fingers of winter, understanding began to creep into his mind.

It made him long for someone to hold on to as he still had trouble seeing how he was all of this. It even made him wish for a dose of the healer’s sarcastic humour, and he knew then that the situation was bad.

He let the parchment drop to a rest on top of the covers. “So what do we do?”

The Elder ran a thoughtful hand along his beard. “Behead him?”

Aragorn was relieved to see the disarming glimmer in his eye. “No, I will not do that. Too much blood has already flowed at my feet.”

His guest leaned back in his chair and appeared to examine the windows and the world outside. Silence stretched out between them as the sun – a rare sight this winter – with coy rays embraced the light blue sky.

When the inner door opened and the healer appeared, it took them both by surprise. Even the healer himself seemed slightly taken aback for he blinked an extra time before he turned his gaze to the King.

“It is alright,” Aragorn assured him. “You do not disturb us.”

“I would never dream of disturbing you, my lord. Only once in a while when you seem to forget the importance of resting.” He crossed the floor and critically eyed Aragorn’s facial skin. “These past days have done you good, though. I suppose I should congratulate you upon – dare I hope? – finally having discovered the wisdom of my words.”

Aragorn was about to please him further by muttering, but the Elder broke his unmoving stance and straightened as best he could. “May ask you a question?”

The healer inclined his head.

“Would you say that the attack on the King was, in itself, enough to have killed him, or did the cold outside do most of the work?”

The healer’s answer was delivered at once. “No, the attack would not have been fatal had it taken place indoors. Even so, by dragging the King outdoors, the attacker stated his intention plainly. It is clear to me that he did not have the nerve to strike him dead himself, but hoped that the weather would solve his problem. Ruthless and calculating, but cowardly.”

“You would have preferred it if Deren had killed me instead?” grumbled Aragorn.

The healer’s smile was almost warm. “Not at all! It has been a great joy tending to you, my lord.” He winked unsettlingly. “It has been most interesting.”

The Elder was rereading the parchment he had fetched from the covers. “I shall make a new copy and then return to hear your verdict.”

He took his leave and when the door had closed behind him, Aragorn let his head fall back upon the pillows. “What shall I do with him?” He worded his thoughts out loud, hoping that maybe the action would bring him some clarity.

“Judging by the fresh rumours circulating, I was under the impression that you had heeded my advice yestereve?”

Suddenly feeling years younger, Aragorn made a face and glared. “I meant not Faramir, but Deren. I will not have his shadow casting its gloom over Minas Tirith any longer.”

“Then send him away.” The healer shrugged and began sorting through the herbs he had brought, spreading them upon a clean cloth that he made sure covered the surface of the bed table.

“Send him away,” Aragorn echoed him thoughtfully. Then he drew himself upright. “What is this about ‘fresh rumours’?”

“Ah,” smiled the healer. “It is now common knowledge that the King and the Steward of Gondor have a problem with chairs. They do not seem to understand that two separate chairs never can be transformed into a single one, no matter how hard they try.”

Groaning loudly, Aragorn sank back. But he could not hinder the small smile that insisted on growing upon his lips.


Note: I was asked the question before, and I thought I’d answer it publicly as well. Both Elves and Men go to Mandos after their death. Whereas the Elves await their probable rebirth in Aman (the Undying Lands), Men await their journey to a mysterious land that even the Valar do not know anything about. Only Ilúvatar himself fully knows the fate of Men.

NB: Please do not distribute (by any means, including email) or repost this story (including translations) without the author's prior permission. [ more ]

Enjoyed this story? Then be sure to let the author know by posting a comment at https://www.faramirfiction.com/fiction/the-coldest-winter. Positive feedback is what keeps authors writing more stories!


51 Comment(s)

OMG—all I can say is WOW

— Liv    Saturday 19 July 2008, 14:29    #

Started to read a chapter or two and read eight chapters! I love the variety of emotions they experience as the story progresses.

— trixie    Wednesday 23 July 2008, 5:13    #

Thank you for reading and liking! Makes me very, very happy!

— Geale    Wednesday 23 July 2008, 8:48    #

Love the turn this story has taken: very different from the usual and yet very credible within the context you have created for the two of them!

— Ebbingnight    Wednesday 13 August 2008, 21:44    #

Still reading and enjoying. Absolutely love the interaction between the two of them!
I do believe poor Faramir thinks more than I do ;)

— trixie    Thursday 14 August 2008, 17:55    #

Thank you, thank you!
Hehe, yes, our dear Faramir certainly has an active mind. The story continues… I don’t seem to have the heart to end it, so please, do continue reading! :)

— Geale    Thursday 14 August 2008, 19:40    #

I so often see this pairing portrayed in a way that makes it seem like they are in a relationship because it is convenient. That or Aragorn tolerates Faramir’s adoration.
It makes me so happy to read a story where they are so clearly in love!

— trixie    Thursday 28 August 2008, 15:30    #

OMG! JERK! how do you just go whacking the king i hope faramir kicks deren’s ass next chapter coz we all know that he’s the one who did it.

magos    Friday 12 September 2008, 18:10    #

Haha! Instead of writing another chapter, I should just send you over to Minas Tirith to straigthen things out! ;)

— Geale    Friday 12 September 2008, 18:28    #

This is fantastic! It’s been quite a while since I hit a ‘TBC’ and actually groaned aloud. :P You’ve got a real talent – thank you so much!

— Lasselanta    Tuesday 21 October 2008, 5:29    #

Gods, thank YOU! I don’t know exactly what made you groan, but it must have been the lo-ve-ly Deren! ;) Have faith, all of you – there will be a new chapter arriving, hopefully this week. This season is alway hectic so I don’t have that much time on my hands right now. Thank you for your patience!

— Geale    Tuesday 21 October 2008, 20:03    #

Oh I love this story. I want to take Deren out myself. I hope Faramir gives it to him when he finds out he’s the one. These two need some happy time. I cant wait for more.

— Kelly    Thursday 23 October 2008, 19:38    #

Ugh! I almost yelled out loud when I realized this chapter ended here! I cant wait to find out what happens next!

— Kelly    Monday 27 October 2008, 14:15    #

evil! that is an evil ending! man! totally dyin to know what happens here.

ange    Monday 27 October 2008, 21:11    #

Cliffie? What cliffie? Who, me? NEVER! :D Imagine instead how horrible it would have been if the whole story had ended here and now… Oh, I am so happy to see you engage in this! We have holidays over here this week so I’ll probably do some writing sooner than later this time around. Keep those yells coming ;) I DO love you all!
//the author who is feeling just a tad bit evil tonight

— Geale    Tuesday 28 October 2008, 0:08    #

Oh this vile little man! I’d like to teach him a lesson. I hope he gets his. Poor Faramir. I just knew he was going to be in trouble in the next chapter. Awesome work. Can’t wait for more as always.

— Kelly    Monday 10 November 2008, 23:19    #

Ouch! That was low. Deren doesn’t miss a trick, does he? Please don’t let Aragorn be merciful with this one like he was Grima. This is no time to be noble.

Thanks!

— Vanwa Hravani    Friday 14 November 2008, 16:29    #

Aaw, he’s a sweet one, isn’t he? So… what would an appropriate punishment be?

— Geale    Saturday 15 November 2008, 17:35    #

OMG! Poor Faramir – this one truly makes my stomach hurt. Awesome job! I feel so bad for these two. I hope the Valar grants them some happiness soon and some swift, and hopefully painful, punishment to that horrible creature.

— Kelly    Monday 17 November 2008, 18:10    #

Keep writing! I keep loving it.

— Vanwa Hravani    Sunday 23 November 2008, 3:59    #

Excellent! Truly Excellent! That was well worth the wait. Thank you.

— Kelly    Thursday 11 December 2008, 18:03    #

exhaaaaaaales Thank you! (I actually said that out loud a couple of times.) I was honestly quite nervous when posting this chapter since I don’t want to disappoint you and yet… well, I’ve given all of my reasons above. Hah! I feel much more at ease now! resumes breathing

— Geale    Thursday 11 December 2008, 18:56    #

Ilove the way you describe those two, it’s a lovely variation of the more usual fare. Although I got used to the concept of mpreg in fantasy [however could THAT happen? ;-)] I prefer your way, especially in this case. I’m always happy to discover a new chapter. Thanks for sharing!

— Minkicat    Saturday 13 December 2008, 0:37    #

Thank you, thank you! I’m falling more and more in love with this story as I go along and I will be sad to see it end. I’m insanely happy that, so far, you all seem to approve of my decision regarding Aragorn’s future children. Don’t worry, I have it all worked out. I actually do. Hugs to you all! Oh, and cookies!

— Geale    Monday 15 December 2008, 22:02    #

I’m rather glad you have gone with a more canon solution to their issues. It makes it easier for me to think it really happened that way! ;-)

— trixie    Saturday 20 December 2008, 12:47    #

So even as you let Aragorn be merciful, you won’t let the little bastard off the hook? I admit he deserves a bit more than a smack on the fingers…
Merry Christmas and a very happy and content New Year to you!

— Minkicat    Tuesday 23 December 2008, 17:31    #

Geale, still loving every bit of it. So glad Aragorn finally got the marriage thing sorted out (took him long enough, the brute!). And the healer is, of course, loved. But please, please, please, can’t some Ranger skewer Deren with an arrow somewhere beyond the borders, out of loyalty to Faramir and anger at the pain D caused him? Cause the Rangers are the voice of truth and just vengeance, right? Please? He can float down a melting river with arrows in his back – maybe he tried to sneak back in to Gondor? Please?

Will love whatever you do. Thanks!

— Vanwa Hravani    Saturday 27 December 2008, 12:50    #

Trixie: I do get your point ;)
Minkicat: Same to you! I’ve been debating with myself since forever what to do with Deren… and this was my solution.
Vanwa Hravani: I’m considering… I am. I think that maybe you gave me an idea actually. I do hope all of you will endure a never-ending epilogue! I should try to work it into the last chapter though… OK, I’m rambling. Let me see what I can do for you! And, YES, I took him some time to finally ask the big question! Men… ;)

— Geale    Saturday 27 December 2008, 16:51    #

As Always truly excellent. I will be sad to see this story end as well. I anxiously await each new piece. So glad they are finally together forever. I think some copper locked children would be nice also. However, I think Legolas or Haldir could be persuaded to get our dear Deren between the eyes for his treachery. I’d volunteer to do it myself but I’m sure I’m not nearly as good with a bow. Then let the scavengers have him. Cruel I know but I so hate anyone trying to hurt our Faramir. Poor lad has suffered enough. Thanks so much for this story. I have enjoyed every bit of the ride.

— Kelly    Tuesday 30 December 2008, 21:42    #

I’ve loved reading this fic! you portray the relationship so beautifully! It’s tender and sweet and hot all at the same time:)

— minx    Thursday 1 January 2009, 11:43    #

Oh Geale! That was the most beautiful yet, and that’s saying something. I could feel each touch, and every one was so full of pure love. Lust born of love is such a special beast, and so hard to portray. Yet you did it in spades. Now I’m in love with both of them. Sigh. Your Aragorn is the most gentle and loving and truly admirable I have read. These two both have such strength of character. I’ll be awaiting the epilogue with baited breath – as many parts as you like. Write on lady!

VH

— Vanwa Hravani    Friday 2 January 2009, 18:57    #

You’re all so sweet – thank you!
Kelly: I’ll put you in my next story, if you’ve worked up your skill with a bow by then ;) We shall see what happens in the epilogue…
Minx: I’m glad they’re not only fluffy, but hot as well! That’s always so… very nice, I find ;)
Vanwa: I’m blushing over here. You spoil me! Not saying I don’t like it, though! I’m actually curious about what you will think of the epilogue – which will be in two, long parts. And that’s partially your fault! :D

— Geale    Friday 2 January 2009, 22:07    #

Thank you for including me. I shall practice diligently as to be ready for my challenge. This last part was wonderful. My curiosity is piqued for the epilogue. I can hardly wait.

— Kelly    Monday 5 January 2009, 17:36    #

What I will think about the epilogue? Ah…Sigh. Big long exhale. Love it. Love them. Love your writing. Thank you!

Very happy to see Deren get an arrow in his back, in his gullet, in wherever else he got them. Really like the way Eachann tries to be merciful, yet flashes on Elessar’s ‘unspoken wish,’ how when he finally lets fly, it’s without thought but with the smooth immediacy of both necessity and justifiable honor, targeted by the unseen voice and years of skill. Just as I would picture one of Faramir’s Rangers. What a strong and touching legacy of his command, followed by scenes of his continuing grace as a parent. Also like how Eachann went back the next morning to retrieve his arrows, both covering his tracks and not wasting even good iron on the trash that was Deren. In few words, shows that both the man and what happened to him are unworthy of further notice. The ultimate vengeance. He is only a blip in the past.

The parent sex scenes (early morning, curious children) were oh so well written and so true to life without being either saccharin or unrealistically feral. They speak of deep and abiding love, strengthened, rather than interrupted, by the presence of children. And what to say about the final gifts of naming and of cradling in one another’s arms and Creation? Well, I’ll have to follow Aragorn’s advice here. The words would never do. Know that I’m smiling and content and so enjoyed the journey. Thank you.

— Vanwa Hravani    Friday 9 January 2009, 15:42    #

Phew, I’m glad I did justice to the rangers! Since I’m not very used to writing – any of – them. But I do happen to like Eachann actually, and I figured that he should be the one to… bring matters to an end.

I’m certainly not used to writing family scenes either, but after I had sorted out Eldarion’s character, I just couldn’t stop! (If I’m allowed to say so myself – I love him!)

But, no matter how many children Aragorn concieved, I don’t want his and Faramir’s relationship to change into either a boring one, or a chokingly fluffy one. They are still individuals, and they have their own story – the children, as you say, are adding to it, simply.
And thank YOU for coming all this way with me. New journeys await. Let us see where they take us.

— Geale    Saturday 10 January 2009, 17:05    #

Ooh! That was quite the perfect epilogue. I am glad their relationship endures with the same quiet intesnity. I love how sweet and loving these two remain with each other, and how perfect they are with the kids! I also liked the little bit where Faramir feels for the mother as well. I tink he certainly would be cognizant of her feelings.

Quite a perfect ending, and the sequel is most looked forward to:)

— Minx    Sunday 11 January 2009, 17:01    #

Thank you Minx! Perfect, you say? You won’t hear me complaining… ;)
No, I can’t see Faramir punishing the mother or the kids like that. Ah! He’s so noble it’s endearing!

Now, I am working on a new story, but it’s not a sequel, and has nothing to do with TCW. Primarily because presently I don’t know what a sequel would be like. But who knows, one of these days maybe I will? Thank you again!

— Geale    Monday 12 January 2009, 12:30    #

Absolutely wonderful!!!!!!! Eachann is my hero!! I love that Deren got what was coming to him. And there will be some slightly copper haired children after all. I’m so glad with how everything turned out. I love Mirairael’s name. That was perfect! What a great story! Thanks for sharing it with us.

— Kelly    Monday 12 January 2009, 18:13    #

Oh I forgot to ask before. I was wondering on the pronunciation of Mirairael’s name. I made the assumption that the ai will follow the long I in pronunciation. Is that right? That is a beautiful name. Just wondering for my own amusement. Thank you

— Kelly    Monday 12 January 2009, 20:16    #

Finally got caught up in a timely manner! I have truly enjoyed this tale. It is romantic without being cloyingly sweet. I adore the teasing and banter between the two along with the dry wit.

I have been intrigued by your use of personification and especially liked,’ Her white apron immediately drew the attention of the firelight which excitedly coloured it orange.”

I thought it added a sense of realism that Faramir experienced hurt at Aragorn’s determination that his line must continue. (Doubt if Aragorn would have been thrilled if the situation were reversed either ;-)

Finally, the scene back in chapters 8 and 9 with the under the table seduction was one of the hottest things I have ever read. Wow!

Thank you for sharing!

— trixie    Monday 12 January 2009, 20:39    #

Kelly! Thank you dear! It’s lovely to see so many exclamation marks in a row ;)
I was quite happy with her name too. As for the pronunciation… Well, since I made it up myself (sort of, not stealing the light of glory from Master Tolkien who created the languages) I could not say for certain. Also, I’m far more used to Sindarin than I am to Quenya. However – bear with me now – this is my guess:

‘Mir’ – ‘meer’, as we know already from Faramir’s name.
‘ai’ should be pronounced ‘ai’, as in ‘rye’, which here I would rather see pronounced as ‘a + i’, to tell you the truth, ie as separate vowels.
As for the vowels that are not any of the six diphthongs ( ai, au, eu, iu, oi, ui), I’ve heard that they are to be pronounced separately.
So that should give us: Meer-ai-ra-el?

Anyone who knows this better is welcome to share their knowledge – I have an email address!
I hope I managed to shed some light, though. Perhaps…

— Geale    Monday 12 January 2009, 21:05    #

Trixie, you too have made it to the end! And with some very nice comments as well. I like those!

Yes, I am the person who personifies a lot. But it does make the world so much more interesting! And I highly suspect I will carry on with this winning (?) concept in the future.

And, actually, now that you mention it… I think Aragorn would have been most displeased, had it been Faramir who must take a lover in order to continue his bloodline… That is a very interesting thought indeed!

Ah, the chapters 8 and 9… As a dear reader of mine put it: “The good old under the table action”. I guess that I should include some “on top of the table action” next time ;)

And thank you for reading! For my part, it’s been a pleasure writing!

— Geale    Monday 12 January 2009, 21:23    #

That was kind of what I was thinking. Thank you for the assistance. I think its a cool name. Also I agree wholeheartedly with the under the table seduction scene. I know I read that several times, especially the hallway parts when Aragorn informed Faramir he didnt like to share “anything”. If I had Faramir I wouldn’t share him either.

— Kelly    Monday 12 January 2009, 21:45    #

No, our King doesn’t like sharing… and it now it has served to inspire me further. Give me a couple of days! ;)

— Geale    Tuesday 13 January 2009, 15:22    #

Well now, this sounds intriguing! Since I have some free time this week, I’ll be waiting to see what you come up with ;)

— trixie    Tuesday 13 January 2009, 17:07    #

Oh I just love when you are inspired. Means good reading for me! I’m on the edge of my seat

— Kelly    Tuesday 13 January 2009, 23:17    #

what a wonderful story! i couldn’t stop reading it! PLEASE WRITE MORE!!!

— HugeFan!    Tuesday 22 December 2009, 15:41    #

I think my favorite parts are the perspectives of the elements (the dawn light and the temperature), but I loved the whole story.
The healer was definitely my favorite character, that old dude was awesome.
I’m also very glad Aragorn got his rug, he seemed very happy.

— Anna    Tuesday 17 August 2010, 23:09    #

Thank you! This universe still has a special place in my heart…

Anna, the healer takes his work very seriously ;) And rugs are important! I was pleased that you made the rug connection :)

Thank you for reading!

Geale    Wednesday 18 August 2010, 8:47    #

WOW – a bit tired now after reading for the whole night, but I just couldn’t stop. – WOW

Congratulations on the characters you have written for us readers.
The relationship between Aragorn and Faramir sounds far more convincing than most of the other fanfics have them.
The under the table scene gets full points – not for originality, but for very well written indeed.
The healer is a gem – I’d love to see more interaction with him – perhaps some more stories about the royal family?

BTW I was missing the lecture on positions given to Aragorn and Faramir by the healer…. but one can’t have all, can one ?;-)

Thanks for sharing this great story,

— Kathurien    Thursday 30 September 2010, 1:22    #

Thank you so much! It’s great to hear that you enjoyed it!

I’m afraid the healer’s lectures are closed to the public and I can do very little about that. He’s a stubborn one…

I feel very comfortable in this universe but I will honestly say that I have no ideas for another sequel right now (one already exists – Tale Telling). Although, pretty reviews, such as yours, always make me want to write more :)

Thank you again!

Geale    Wednesday 6 October 2010, 19:19    #

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