Immortalitui // Faramir 🥀

Chapter Forty - Reunited

Word Count: 1,972 words. 

Warnings: None. 

She had yet to see the man that she truly feared to face, but his camp was under her gaze. Arathiel stood in the woods, hood up and figure hidden. She watched as the Gondorian soldiers gathered. She had spotted the Hobbits almost immediately and if the she-elf had not recognised Sam and Frodo, she would have certainly known they were near. The Ring pulled her, stronger than it had ever been before.

"There are no travellers in this land." His voice was stronger than the darkness. Arathiel all put pushed herself further behind the trees. "Only servants of Mordor."

Faramir's face was hidden, and she hated how she wished he would spot her, that he would ask her to show herself, but Arathiel was too good at what she did: hiding.

"Bind their hands," he ordered, the soldiers taking the Hobbits with them. His gaze moved and the she-elf ducked, pressing her head against the cold bark. Her heartbeat quickened.

"Are you alone?" the second son of Gondor asked the two travellers. By the Light, his voice had not changed.

"Yes," Frodo answered, but Faramir was not convinced.

"Is there someone there?" he called out.

"You should move," Halbrand told her. "You could move. It would be entirely too easy to evade a human." The man smiled. "They are... weak."  

Arathiel could hear the crunch of his footsteps as he approached, and she knew that they were Faramir's. Her better instinct told her to leave, rush away and observe from afar, but she did not. Was it the string of her mind that the Ring pulled on, the seduction of its power, or the strings of her heart that only wished to see his face? Perhaps it was a combination of both.

She did not pull her weapon as his gently swung around the tree, side of the Gondorian blade pressed against her neck.

"What are you doing in these woods, spy?" he ordered, hood down and hand firm.

"I could ask you the same, Gondorian," Arathiel managed, raising her hand to pull her hood back.

Their eyes met, his expression fell and Arathiel had never been more certain about anything in her life. She was completely in love with a man who she could never have completely.

"Arathiel," he breathed, pulling his sword away. His lips parted, but no other words were said as he swallowed whatever greeting he had prepared if he was to see her again.

He had aged slightly, lines around his eyes, new scars against his skin, but he was Faramir, and he would always be Faramir.

"You need a bath," she commented, placing her hand on the hilt of her sword. "You look as dirty as an Orc."

Arathiel was trying to calm her emotions. The relief, the fear... the love. Perhaps Aragorn had been right all those years ago when he told her she masked everything with humour.

"Arathiel!" Frodo exclaimed.

Her attention turned and she was suddenly rushing towards the small Hobbit, kneeling to wrap her arms around him in a tight hug. The pull of the Ring had never been so strong, but she cared little as she embraced the small Baggins.

"What did you think running away would accomplish?" she questioned, sending Sam a relieved smile and nod.

"I had to..." he dragged.

"Had to what?" Faramir asked from behind.

Arathiel cast a glance to the soldiers he had with him, some she recognised – and some recognised her – but most were fresh faces. She turned to Faramir, arms pushing the two Hobbits as close to her as she could.