Immortalitui // Faramir 🥀

Chapter Thirty-One - First Meetings

Word Count: 1,970 words. 

Warnings: None. 

Numénor was always quiet. The sea always lapped against the shores, creating soft waves that could not topple a stone. Arathiel had not seen a storm in her brother's kingdom for almost two decades and before that it had been centuries. The repetition calmed her. 

Elros' people commanded the sea, they rode its back like a Rider of Rohan sat on their steed. Of course, Numérorians had reigned long before Rohan cemented themselves as a kingdom, but often, Arathiel thought that perhaps her brother's blood may trickle there somewhere. Elendil had always expressed that the bond between soldier and steed was irreplaceable.

It was a day in Numénor where the water was still, and the people were calm when Galadriel arrived on its shores. It had been a long time since she had seen the Commander's face, and indeed a substantially longer time since the she-elf had left Numénor's banks, but Galadriel was not a face she could forget, nor one which was unwelcome.

Arathiel had been intrigued by the mysterious human that accompanied Galadriel, immediat­ely drawn by his presence. It did not worry her, although it should have, that her first thought was to ask of the stranger rather than her brother.

"Who is he Galadriel?" Arathiel had asked, eager as a child.

Galadriel had not questioned her interest, she herself ensnared by the same man. "He is King of the Southlands," she explained.

Confused, Arathiel shook her head. "There is no King of the Southlands my friend."

"His kingdom has been lost but he wears it's sigil as a collar." They were walking, slowly, as it seem­ed that all elves do.

"I was not aware that any of that line had survived." It was a casting remark, a chronology she had read years ago, but a fleeting memory to Arathiel.

While Galadriel's strides were large, meeting an even, elegant pace, Arathiel scurried beside her at times to catch up with her friend.

"Why is he here?" the half-elf asked then.

"He was an aid against the sea monsters and now will ride with me to reclaim his Kingdom and vanquish what is left of Morgoth," she explained.

"Morgoth?" Arathiel countered. "Morgoth is gone Galadriel."

"And yet his influence remains, Sauron remains." She was arguing with her. Arathiel was human still, and it was in her nature to argue, to express aggression, frustration. She had enough emotions for a hundred men, or so her brother had said – which one it had been, she was not sure.

Galadriel now spoke quickly, fervently. Her anger was apparent, and although Arathiel had seen such anger in war, she knew that it differed. Something had happened to Galadriel, and a small part of her knew that it had to do with Halbrand.

That was where Arathiel found herself later that day. It had not taken long to locate the apparent King in the local tavern. He drank a pint of ale, but Halbrand's eyes were firmly focused on every Numénorian in the room. He observed the way they spoke – how their accent rolled off their tongues and caught in their throats. He watched how every man held themselves and how each women inclined towards someone else.

"Are you simply going to stare?" Halbrand asked the air, but Arathiel knew that it had been meant for her. "You are not very good at going undetected."

She smiled, taking a step closer. "It was not my intention to sneak up on you. Am I not allowed to observe you as you are?"