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b2memB2MEM Challenge: Young Faramir (5-15) is tired of being second best to his brother. He's tired of being belittled and punished for small things. He's tired of his father not understanding him. He's especially tired of his brother always having to protect him. He runs away. Does he make it out of Gondor? Does he ever come back? What happens to him in the end? If he comes back, why does he? Was it in vain; will anything change? It's all up to you.
Also, alternatively, how does Boromir feel about this? Does he miss his brother? Will he search, and/or obey his father? Will he help Faramir overcome it?
"We are learning to make a fire." (I didn't take this as literally as I might have. But the "fire" of revolution is coming...)
Format: Ficlet
Genre: Family, AU
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mention of Denethor's madness, kitten cuteness
Characters: Denethor II, Hurin of the Keys (as a child), Gondorian OCs, and a kitten
Pairings:
Creator's Notes: This is the continuation of "Isildurchil Dithen". Chapters Prologue-8 can be found either at AO3 or on this Livejournal, but the end of Chapter Eight is reproduced here to help things along.
Summary: Mallor, the young guard who let Captain Targon escape with young Faramir, was condemned to die by the maddened Steward. But when Captain Haldorn was commanded to execute his nephew - could he perhaps find another way? And with news of Faramir's flight, just how long will Dol Amroth be content to remain removed from the coming storm?
The Hidden Prince (ID Prologue)
Isildurchil Dithen chapter one
Isildurchil Dithen chapter two
Isildurchil Dithen chapter three
Isildurchil Dithen chapter four
Isildurchil Dithen chapter five
Isildurchil Dithen chapter six
Isildurchil Dithen chapter seven
Isildurchil Dithen chapter eight
“You know your duty, Captain,” Denethor said. Captain Haldorn, father of Húrin, and uncle to Mallor, had listened to his brother-by-law’s raving with mounting horror; Húrin, standing beside his cousin Boromir, shuddered. Nevertheless, Haldorn bowed obediently, realising that this was his Steward, not his heart-brother speaking.
“I do.” He looked at his elder brother's son and heir with eyes that begged forgiveness. Mallor's eyes, bright with unshed tears, held no condemnation - only fear. And Haldorn knew in that moment that he, too, was afraid. - from Chapter Eight
Captain Haldorn placed his hand on his nephew's arm after Denethor dismissed them, leading Mallor toward the Court of the Fountain, where the Dead Tree stood. It was well that the Steward had permitted him to take Mallor alone, entrusting him with this grim task.
They reached the courtyard, only to find it occupied by his lady wife. Aeärwen, eldest daughter of Ecthelion II, stood before the Dead Tree, gaze fixed on it. Her dark hair was unbound, spilling down past her shoulders, and her grey eyes, tinged with green, spoke of the Sea for which she had been named.
The Sea! Such storms as the Sea wrought were just as likely to be found in Aeärwen's gaze. So it was now, Haldorn thought, as he cautiously approached. "Beloved," he began. She did not turn to look at him.
"Give me Mallor, husband," she said in a low voice. "I must take him to Prince Adrahil, who even now approaches the Citadel."
"What does the Sea Fox in the White City?" Haldorn blinked in surprise. "I have heard no word of this."
"My brother has gone mad," Aeärwen replied. "Surely you did not think I would allow him to reign over our land unchecked? I sent word to the Prince as soon as Faramir disappeared. He has come."
"Where were you when Lord Faramir needed you, Aunt?" Mallor demanded. "He has needed a mother's care."
Lady Aeärwen turned from her regard of the Dead Tree to stare at her husband's nephew. "Think you, Mallor, that I do not grieve Lady Finduilas as much as any? I who was her closest confidante of her own rank - yes, even moreso than her husband!" she hissed. "Do not speak of what you do not understand, Mallor. More lives than yours or Faramir's hang by a thread. I have done what I can for Faramir. But the White City is a man's world, as you both well know. A woman wields her power where she may - in the shadows. I have sent him food. I have sent him water. I have been sending word of him, whenever I had it, to Adrahil, and I have waited for the Sea Fox to make his move. It is not wise to strike ere one is prepared. Adrahil has watched and waited, but that is not to say we have done nothing. At least Faramir should be out of Denethor's reach, by now."
***
When the prince rode from the sea-castle, he brought me with him. I am Kraken, Son of Swansdown of the Line of Ancalime, and my often-splaying ginger paws and twisting tail will account for my name, though I understand there is more to it. My foremother was brought from the shores of the drowned island many uncounted nights ago, but we still remember her and her loyalty to the one who made us Understood. We do not speak to Men as Men speak to each other. Of course not, because Men do not speak to us as we speak to each other. But the Gift was given, that we may be Understood by those of the old sea-prince's line, of he and the shining one he wed. This sea-prince is one of that line, many generations removed. And so, he Understands me, and I Understand him. He is worried for his lost kitten's mate.
She was beautiful, his kitten, a Daughter of the Sea. And she Understood. In fact, I think she almost spoke like my people, more than even humans of her kind did. But her mate is cold and brooding, and does not Understand. Nor will he ever. He does not like cats. My grandsire, Ecthelion, was given as a kitten to the Man for whom he was named, by the very prince who rides with me now. The Sea Prince was younger then, of course; he thought it fine to gift his Kitten's father-in-law with a same-name cat. Why not? It was a fine name. Despite being a Stone-Prince, he was a fine man. His son is not.
He might have been, once, when my grandsire was young. But in those days, when the now-Stone-Lord's son was just a babe in arms, Mother says, he had a rival for the Daughter of the Sea's affection. Or, that is what the Stone-Lord thought. The other man had a promised-mate far away, but Ecthelion (the Stone-Lord, not my grandsire) made a plan I did not understand, so that his son's mate, my master's kitten, would produce a kitten for this stranger, a Northerner. She has smelled this kitten, and he does not smell anything like the Stone-Lord at all. Now the Northerner's kitten is gone, and the Stone-Lord has gone mad. What can my master do, but go to him? And perhaps, in the Stone City, I will find a new master.
Also, alternatively, how does Boromir feel about this? Does he miss his brother? Will he search, and/or obey his father? Will he help Faramir overcome it?
"We are learning to make a fire." (I didn't take this as literally as I might have. But the "fire" of revolution is coming...)
Format: Ficlet
Genre: Family, AU
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mention of Denethor's madness, kitten cuteness
Characters: Denethor II, Hurin of the Keys (as a child), Gondorian OCs, and a kitten
Pairings:
Creator's Notes: This is the continuation of "Isildurchil Dithen". Chapters Prologue-8 can be found either at AO3 or on this Livejournal, but the end of Chapter Eight is reproduced here to help things along.
Summary: Mallor, the young guard who let Captain Targon escape with young Faramir, was condemned to die by the maddened Steward. But when Captain Haldorn was commanded to execute his nephew - could he perhaps find another way? And with news of Faramir's flight, just how long will Dol Amroth be content to remain removed from the coming storm?
The Hidden Prince (ID Prologue)
Isildurchil Dithen chapter one
Isildurchil Dithen chapter two
Isildurchil Dithen chapter three
Isildurchil Dithen chapter four
Isildurchil Dithen chapter five
Isildurchil Dithen chapter six
Isildurchil Dithen chapter seven
Isildurchil Dithen chapter eight
“You know your duty, Captain,” Denethor said. Captain Haldorn, father of Húrin, and uncle to Mallor, had listened to his brother-by-law’s raving with mounting horror; Húrin, standing beside his cousin Boromir, shuddered. Nevertheless, Haldorn bowed obediently, realising that this was his Steward, not his heart-brother speaking.
“I do.” He looked at his elder brother's son and heir with eyes that begged forgiveness. Mallor's eyes, bright with unshed tears, held no condemnation - only fear. And Haldorn knew in that moment that he, too, was afraid. - from Chapter Eight
Captain Haldorn placed his hand on his nephew's arm after Denethor dismissed them, leading Mallor toward the Court of the Fountain, where the Dead Tree stood. It was well that the Steward had permitted him to take Mallor alone, entrusting him with this grim task.
They reached the courtyard, only to find it occupied by his lady wife. Aeärwen, eldest daughter of Ecthelion II, stood before the Dead Tree, gaze fixed on it. Her dark hair was unbound, spilling down past her shoulders, and her grey eyes, tinged with green, spoke of the Sea for which she had been named.
The Sea! Such storms as the Sea wrought were just as likely to be found in Aeärwen's gaze. So it was now, Haldorn thought, as he cautiously approached. "Beloved," he began. She did not turn to look at him.
"Give me Mallor, husband," she said in a low voice. "I must take him to Prince Adrahil, who even now approaches the Citadel."
"What does the Sea Fox in the White City?" Haldorn blinked in surprise. "I have heard no word of this."
"My brother has gone mad," Aeärwen replied. "Surely you did not think I would allow him to reign over our land unchecked? I sent word to the Prince as soon as Faramir disappeared. He has come."
"Where were you when Lord Faramir needed you, Aunt?" Mallor demanded. "He has needed a mother's care."
Lady Aeärwen turned from her regard of the Dead Tree to stare at her husband's nephew. "Think you, Mallor, that I do not grieve Lady Finduilas as much as any? I who was her closest confidante of her own rank - yes, even moreso than her husband!" she hissed. "Do not speak of what you do not understand, Mallor. More lives than yours or Faramir's hang by a thread. I have done what I can for Faramir. But the White City is a man's world, as you both well know. A woman wields her power where she may - in the shadows. I have sent him food. I have sent him water. I have been sending word of him, whenever I had it, to Adrahil, and I have waited for the Sea Fox to make his move. It is not wise to strike ere one is prepared. Adrahil has watched and waited, but that is not to say we have done nothing. At least Faramir should be out of Denethor's reach, by now."
***
When the prince rode from the sea-castle, he brought me with him. I am Kraken, Son of Swansdown of the Line of Ancalime, and my often-splaying ginger paws and twisting tail will account for my name, though I understand there is more to it. My foremother was brought from the shores of the drowned island many uncounted nights ago, but we still remember her and her loyalty to the one who made us Understood. We do not speak to Men as Men speak to each other. Of course not, because Men do not speak to us as we speak to each other. But the Gift was given, that we may be Understood by those of the old sea-prince's line, of he and the shining one he wed. This sea-prince is one of that line, many generations removed. And so, he Understands me, and I Understand him. He is worried for his lost kitten's mate.
She was beautiful, his kitten, a Daughter of the Sea. And she Understood. In fact, I think she almost spoke like my people, more than even humans of her kind did. But her mate is cold and brooding, and does not Understand. Nor will he ever. He does not like cats. My grandsire, Ecthelion, was given as a kitten to the Man for whom he was named, by the very prince who rides with me now. The Sea Prince was younger then, of course; he thought it fine to gift his Kitten's father-in-law with a same-name cat. Why not? It was a fine name. Despite being a Stone-Prince, he was a fine man. His son is not.
He might have been, once, when my grandsire was young. But in those days, when the now-Stone-Lord's son was just a babe in arms, Mother says, he had a rival for the Daughter of the Sea's affection. Or, that is what the Stone-Lord thought. The other man had a promised-mate far away, but Ecthelion (the Stone-Lord, not my grandsire) made a plan I did not understand, so that his son's mate, my master's kitten, would produce a kitten for this stranger, a Northerner. She has smelled this kitten, and he does not smell anything like the Stone-Lord at all. Now the Northerner's kitten is gone, and the Stone-Lord has gone mad. What can my master do, but go to him? And perhaps, in the Stone City, I will find a new master.
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