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Winter's Rest (R) Print

Written by Monica

09 March 2005 | 25774 words

[ all pages ]

Chapter Five

Winter arrived in full force the next day in Rivendell, blanketing the grounds with a thick cover of snow. Most of the valley celebrated the first snow, even elves many thousand of years old merrily pelting one another with snowballs. Faramir joined a group of young warriors building several forts and engaged in a few fierce battles, but did not stay outside too long for he found himself chilled after a few hours, despite being warmly dressed. Reluctantly, he retreated inside and found Lord Elrond and Erestor in the main hall with cups of hot chocolate. He cheerfully joined them by the windows, watching the snow fights from the warm safety of the den.

"Ouch!" Erestor winced as one young elfing went down after a particularly fierce barrage of snowballs. The youngster jumped up quickly, however, and retaliated. "Were we ever this rambunctious?" he asked Elrond, frowning at the number of snow missiles that came perilously close to the windows.

"We were far worse, my friend," Elrond chuckled, sharing a smile with Faramir. "And I fear that some are setting a bad example for our guest," he added. Faramir was still weak and his nagging cough had been joined by a sore throat that persisted despite the daily medical brews Elrond prepared. Elrond hadn't liked seeing his patient romping through the wet snow, but he had also seen the smile on the Man's face, and knew that he was enjoying himself. He contented himself with seeing that some medicine was added to Faramir's drink. Those light eyes silently informed Elrond that Faramir was aware that his mug contained something in addition to chocolate, but the Steward had said nothing.

"I thought elves were fierce with arrows, but that is nothing compared to a snowball," Faramir remarked in amusement, savoring the feel of the warm mug in his hands. Elrond pulled a blanket over Faramir's lap and the Steward sighed, but accepted it. "I will have to inform His Majesty that time may be wasted on preparing arrows. The smiths should be concocting snowballs instead, or better yet, arrows with flames to melt your arsenal."

"He has found our secret weapon," Erestor said, deadpan, looking at Elrond.

The Elf Lord smiled at his advisor and guest, inclining his head slightly. "It was a fool's hope that only Estel would know our secret prowess with throwing snowballs," he commented.

"Well, I –" Faramir paused in his rejoined for a fierce sneeze. Erestor was a bit startled, for Elves did not get sick, but Elrond was prepared for this event.

"Upstairs with you now," he ordered lightly, seeing that the prince had quickly finished his hot drink. "The servants have a hot bath waiting and some tea prepared for you. A nap might also suit you before dinner," he added, seeing Faramir yawn. The Steward looked a bit nonplused and the Elf smiled. "I long ago lost track of how many times Estel caught cold after playing in the snow. After much studying, I came to the conclusion that a hot bath and warm drink are the best methods of preventing such an illness."

Faramir looked slightly insulted at the suggestion that he had been 'playing' in the snow. "We were not playing," he said with great dignity. "It was winter battle tactics." But he respectfully took his leave of the Elves and went to his rooms.

He found everything laid out for a perfectly decadent afternoon bath and nap. Shaking his head a bit, he quickly shed his clothes and relaxed in the warm water, sighing a bit in relief as the heat soaked through him. During the past weeks, he had become more than a bit spoiled at the luxurious baths, enjoying the oils and scents always present. It was far different from the conditions he had grown up with; only cold baths and hard camp beds for the younger son of the Steward. Denethor had claimed that he was too soft, and did not deserve any pampering, and Faramir had never known differently.

Faramir sipped the cup of tea that he had found waiting for him on the counter in the bathing chamber and shook his head. So many things were different now, he thought morosely. Boromir was dead, and somehow he -so completely unworthy- had become Steward. Denethor had never expected his younger son to become Steward, and Faramir had certainly never wanted it in the least.

He angrily forced himself to snap out of his dark thoughts. He was weak indeed, he thought, to allow himself to be pulled into such sadness whenever he thought of his father and brother. Why was he so emotional?

Angry, yet exhausted, Faramir rose from the bath and dried himself off. Pulling on the warm nightshirt that had been laid out by the fire, he retreated to bed and fell into an exhausted sleep.


The Hall of Fire was full and merry that night with everyone celebrating the first snow. There were many tales of snowstorms of the past, some of which turned into elaborate humorous stories. Faramir tried unsuccessfully to suppress his laughter as he listened to Glorfindel and Erestor argue over who had gotten colder centuries earlier during a hunting trip. Both seemed determined to win the unofficial title of "ice elf", and their squabbling caused much laughter in the hall. Faramir wandered toward one of the sideboards where refreshments were laid out and was near the door when it opened and a new guest arrived. It took him a moment to recognize the figure, covered in snow.

"Mithrandir" he exclaimed in delight, surprised to see the wizard.

"Aye, Faramir, it is good to see you, my lad." Gandalf shook his hat, causing more snow to fall from the brim. "I think I've discovered a disadvantage to being Gandalf the White; I can't see where my bloody clothes end and the snow begins!"

"Surely you thought of this before," Elrond commented, appearing behind Faramir. The Elf Lord bowed slightly to the wizard in welcome. "We were rather expecting you before the snow flew."

Gandalf sighed, accepted a towel from a helpful she-elf with a smile, and dried his face. "And I planed to be here, but this snow storm came earlier than I expected." Elrond appeared and the Wizard was welcomed into the Hall.

Gandalf kept busy for the next few days, sharing news of his travels, and happily entertaining the Hall of Fire with stories. Faramir saw little of him, but knew that the wizard no doubt had very serious and important matters to speak with Elrond and his advisors. Gandalf had announced that he planned to stay the winter at Rivendell, and Faramir was content that he would have plenty of time to visit with his old tutor. He continued in his new routine of studying in the libraries, sorting materials to send to Gondor, and resting.

The morning of Gandalf's third day in Rivendell, Faramir was surprised to look up from one of his books and find Elrond looking at him. "Am I disturbing you?" the elf asked.

"No, of course not," Faramir answered quickly. He didn't know why his heart beat a little faster when he was with the Elf Lord, and frankly, he wasn't sure he liked it. He gestured to a nearby chair, but Elrond shook his head slightly.

"I was wondering if you would join me in my study, " he asked, his voice musical as always, but with a tone Faramir had not heard before. One of the healer's hands lightly brushed the Man's brow, checking for signs of fever. Faramir had become used to the gesture and let Elrond conduct the brief exam. "We must speak."

"Certainly." Faramir was puzzled, but followed the elf to his private study. He was even more surprised when he entered the room and found Gandalf waiting in a chair. "Mithrandir," he greeted, bowing slightly.

Gandalf smiled at him and stood, taking one of Faramir's hands. "My dear boy, it is good to see you," the wizard said, his eyes intently studying the young steward. "I do apologize for not speaking with you earlier."

Faramir brushed the apology aside lightly. "I know that you have serious matters to discuss with Lord Elrond." He detected a look of concern in the wizard's face and frowned. "Is everything well in Gondor? Are the king and queen well?" He would leave for Minas Tirith that night if needed at home.

"Everything is fine, perfectly fine," the wizard quickly assured him. "I crossed paths with a group of Rangers not five days ago and they say all is well in the city and the lands. You are sorely missed, but Aragorn is managing to keep the councilors in line." The wizard glanced behind Faramir and looked at Elrond, who had closed the door and now joined them. "Please, let us sit," Gandalf said. "The three of us must talk."

The three were seated in chairs near the fire, and Faramir frowned, knowing that something was certainly bothering both the elf and the wizard. If all was well in Gondor, what could it be? He saw Gandalf fidget with his robe and tried to smile a little. "Is it that bad?" he asked.

"No," Gandalf answered quickly, then he paused. "I don't think so. Actually, I have no idea where to begin."

"We have discussed this, Mithrandir," Elrond said, his voice calm. He looked from the wizard to the Steward. "There is something you must be told, Faramir. It is not evil news, but it will not be easy for you to hear. Mithrandir and I knew the time would come; we waited until you had time to rest and regain some of your strength and health."

Blue eyes studied the older beings carefully, Faramir's face becoming impassive. It had always been his shield to guard himself from Denethor's rages as to not let any emotion show. "Then pray tell me know what it is you must," he said, his voice quiet.

Gandalf looked at the fire, and his eyes took on the gaze of someone seeing things not visible. "Faramir, I knew for years that the time would come when Gondor would be besieged. I spent years searching for answers about the evil we could feel growing, but never suspected it was the One Ring. Gondor was the place I could feel the dark shadow the most, and I spent most of my time traveling in that land."

Faramir inclined his head in acknowledgement. "You have long been well known to the Men of Gondor," he said quietly.

The wizard nodded. "And known to the rulers of Gondor. I am an old man, and I have known many Stewards. I tried to find answers to the threat some could sense, and I sought allies in Gondor. Your grandfather was the first to truly sense the danger, and then… Denethor…" he trailed off, uncertain how to continue.

Faramir looked at Elrond nervously, and the Elf picked up the story. "Denethor believed that there was danger, but he thought he could battle it himself. The moment he became Steward he began to close himself off, determined that he alone would find the way to save Gondor. He was not always as you knew him, Faramir, he was full of hope at one time. But as he saw hints of the danger grow, he became more withdrawn and refused to let anyone get close to him. Even your mother."

"My mother?" Faramir was confused. Why would she figure in this story?

"Findulas was full of life and joy," Gandalf said, his voice growing soft with fondness. "And Denethor loved her as he loved no other. But from the moment she married and was brought to the city of stone, she began to fade. Even the birth of her first son could not sustain her when her husband withdrew from her. Denethor loved her still, but soon after Boromir's birth he began to disappear into his chambers for weeks, leaving her alone. Findulas became like a fragile flower, left on rock to wither."

Faramir clenched his fists, not knowing how to respond. He had been told many tales about his mother, and all agreed that she had indeed faded in Minas Tirith. Denethor had in fact blamed his younger son for her ultimate death, and her name had not been spoken for years. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion. "What possible reason could there be to speak of my mother?"

There was a long silence, filled only with the cracking of the fire. Then Gandalf finally spoke.

"Your true father was not Denethor. I am."

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/winters-rest. Positive feedback is what keeps authors writing more stories!


7 Comment(s)

this is a very good story,i hope you continue this love it hould follow faramir back to Gondor7 pick-up Elrond not being abe to stay away. but its a beautiful story

chela — chela    Monday 30 April 2007, 4:36    #

I agree with chela. There should be one more chapter to Elrond’s and Faramir’s story. Perhaps Elrond’s last days in Middle Earth? This was wonderful.

— balrog    Saturday 12 January 2008, 10:47    #

This is a very good story. It’s one of the first stories I ever read on this site, and I think it’s one of the stories that inspired me to start writing on my own! Thank you for this lovely story. :)

— Morwen    Saturday 2 January 2010, 20:56    #

A very nice story.
Well written with a good plot.
Thank you for sharing it.

— Lille Mermeid    Saturday 26 June 2010, 15:57    #

Almost a year has gone by, and I’m back to read this story again. I love it so. :) I hope you write more stuff soon!

— Morwen    Thursday 30 December 2010, 10:52    #

Wow, lovely story!
It made me laugh and say a few “Aaaw“s, and the “I am your father!” Amazing!
One of the best I’ve read ^^

— Laivindur    Sunday 6 January 2013, 1:57    #

I really enjoyed this..you have a great way of depicting both Faramir and Elrond that seemed so natural and believable. Thanks for thsi

— sian22    Saturday 23 August 2014, 0:55    #

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