Immortalitui // Faramir 🥀

Chapter Twenty-Two - Home

Word Count: 2,918 words. 

Warnings: None. 

Gondor...

Years ago...

Arathiel often found it difficult to sleep. Gondor was a safe place, one that she had found comfort in more often than not, but with the darkness looming, whispers invaded her dreams and he spoke to her with words of kindness and longing. Words that she knew were lies and only manipulation.

She had found her way to the top of the city, leaning against the balcony that overlooked the city. It never slept. That was something she loved about Minas Tirith. People settled in for the night and others drank until the morning came. Arathiel was unsure of the hour of the night it was, but it was still early enough that the joyful shouts of men and woman at the taverns could be heard. She smiled.

"Do you sleep in your armour?" he asked her and instantly, everything changed.

The she-elf hated that his presence was able to irritate her so greatly, if it could be called irritation. Faramir approached her side, matching the position that she had taken up to watch the city below. He didn't let his gaze leave Arathiel's face.

She knew that he was watching her, not that he was trying to hide it. Arathiel attempted to ignore it, ignore how it made her feel. How all she wanted to do was wipe that look off of his face.

"That would be rather uncomfortable, don't you think?" she countered, taking a deep breath.

"It is only that I do not see you in anything else," he returned.

Arathiel turned her gaze then, meeting his. "One must always be prepared for war."

He regarded her carefully, knowing of the hardships she had faced, or at least the ones that the pages of Gondor's library had spoken of. "Have you ever had a moment of peace Arathiel?"

It was an odd question to ask, anyone would agree. Arathiel certainly did. "What sort of a question is that?"

He smiled, facing his city. It was now Arathiel that could not take her gaze away from the side of his face. "One a fool asks."

"You are no fool Faramir," she told him.

He swallowed nervously. "My father hates me," he admitted.

She sighed at his confession, turning to watch where he did. They did not look at each other as they spoke.

"My father did not like me all that much either," Arathiel returned. "Woman were not meant to fight and yet I insisted on sparring with my brothers and picking arguments with men a lot more experienced that I was."

He looked at her briefly. She had not spoken so honestly to him before. He knew the stories that had been told, but the elf herself had yet to tell him anything about her. Faramir had to admit that he had never been more intrigued by another soul.

"Now I know that you were always a fighter."

Arathiel smiled, and Faramir thought it the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. "I never fit the description of who I was meant to be. Do not take my words the wrong way, my father did love me, your father loves you the same, but is blinded by his self-obsession and conceited nature."

"I am only his second son," Faramir continued. "I am of no importance."

The she-elf paused for a moment, unsure as to whether she should tell him or not. Whether it was right to reveal to him some of her past. Arathiel could not help but want to tell him everything.