Immortalitui // Faramir 🥀

Chapter Six - Progress

Word Count: 4,211 words. 

Warnings: None. 

Arathiel had to admit it. They were getting better. Although mortal and egotistical, they listened to what she had to say and how she said it. They worked much better as a team now and when given a weapon that wasn't their own, each man handled it better than she had expected.

Months it had taken. Arathiel was never good at judging time, but it had been almost a five at her count. She had become welcome in Minas Tirith. The soldiers respected her, as did both sons of the steward. She wasn't sure that Denethor would ever see her as a person.

It had been three days since Arathiel had been near Faramir and she hated that she could remember the exact words he had spoken to her at their last meeting. There had been a discussion between her and Denethor regarding the recent movement around the border. The orcs were gathering and they were priming to fight. Gondor needed to push back soon or else they might find themselves brave enough to barrel through to the city.

He had been waiting outside when she left and had been quick to assure her that the anger his father had was not for her. That he had been only concerned for his people. Arathiel was shocked by his comforting words. She had had many a man angry with her and she knew how to tell the difference, but here, this mortal man no more than thirty years on the earth, was reassuring her of that. It baffled her. He baffled her.

"Are we ever going to fight you?" Dom asked, Arathiel's attention turning back to the men she was with.

Her eyes glanced towards the small bench off to the side of the courtyard. Every day Faramir had sat there, watching her teach his soldiers and then when they left, she would teach him words and wisdom she knew. It had been three days since Arathiel had seen him.

"You're not ready for that Blind," she explained, smirking lightly.

"Are we ready for the orcs then?" a different man added. She didn't know his name but he was strong. A bowman originally, however, Arathiel had found that he was much better with a sword. He had been all to happy to trade weapons for now.

"You'll never be ready for the orcs," she told them. "They are entirely too unpredictable."

"We've learned how to fight unpredictability," Dom explained. "You've taught us how."

"Except you have learned how each other fights, and so without knowing became completely predictable. That took weeks. Do you think you can measure an orcs pattern within seconds on the battlefield?"

There was a long silence amongst the men as they turned to look at each other. They had been so confident in their abilities and Arathiel had just given them a blow to the gut. There was no time to assess how an orc stood or which way it carried itself. Not when it was charging towards you. You had to judge that in the height of battle. Something the elf doubted that most of these men had seen.

"Is there need to be so harsh on them?" a different voice asked.

For a moment, Arathiel thought it might have been Faramir and her heart swelled with the thought of seeing him again. Alas, when she turned around, she found that it was instead his brother.

"Boromir," she greeted.

Arathiel felt stupid for the disappointing feeling in her heart. She wanted it to be Faramir and yet she shouldn't have. He was a man. That was all. A stupid man with stupid hair that changed colour in the sun. He was handsome, nothing more.

"You're taking all of their spirit away," he told her, leaning against a nearby pillar. His eyes watched me carefully. "Let them fight you."

Boromir and Arathiel had began sparring as of late. She, of course, held back for fear of hurting him, but he was good. A brilliant soldier, but it wasn't soldiers that were going to win this war. It was that monster that threatened to burst from its cage inside her mind when a sword swung at her.