Ghosts

[Pinkie]

Eledwhen said:

"Who are you? The penalty for trespassing on the land of the Rohirrim is death! This... circle of which you speak... The only circle close by is the ring of the Valar, and how can you have come through? What do you mean? Anyone can walk through it at any time, it is nothing special. Speak or die."

"Alright alright - easy tiger!" Thrace said with a wry chuckle, attempting to calm the girl as best she could.

She was gutsy - Thrace had to give her that much. But the way she spoke was a little annoying. Haughty - as if she were better and holier than thou. The blonde waited for her to have her say and frowned when she mentioned 'Rohirrim' and 'Valar'. Assuming the Ring of Valar to be the Stargate, Thrace lifted her hand, squinting in the sun, about to answer. But then the wench got all defensive and Thrace heard the rest of her team stepping forward.

Turning sharply, she gestured for them to halt where they were--

"Wait! Wait ..." she urged and turned back to Eledwhen with a big smile. She even stepped forward slowly, and offered her hand up to the dark haired woman.

"I'm Thrace - these are my ... friends. We all came through the Ring of Valar... from another planet..." the blonde said, trying to make herself understood. Thumbing behind her back, she gestured to Kawalsky, DJ and West , idly wondering where Lake had got to. "This is Kawalsky, West and DJ. We didn't know we were trespassing on the Roh--harem or whatever you called it. Do you live around here? We're looking to ahm -- " Thrace puffed out her cheeks and screwed up her face in confusion, not quite sure what they were looking for. She glanced over her shoulder at DJ and raised an eyebrow to him -- "We're looking for ---" and she waited for him to assist.

[Bogwoppit]

"They do say the cure is sometimes worse than the affliction do they not?"

Miriel found herself watching his finely-shaped lips as he drank the vile potion, and blinked quickly as he spoke, feeling her cheeks flushing slightly as she looked down at the floor. Despite this, she found herself surprisingly suppressing a small smile, and looked up at his strong face one more as she took the vial from him.

"Indeed," she replied softly as she spoke, suddenly wondering if love could be looked upon as an affliction. If so then the cure was most definitely worse than the affliction, if nights and days spent alone with no hope of ever feeling it again could count as a cure.

She took note of the way he stepped away from her as he rose, and it only served to fill her heart with more sorrow that such a good man could ever suffer the way Faramir obviously did. Watching as his long fingers reached into his pouch to take out the coins she found herself wondering if he had a darker side, a side which perhaps only Eowyn had ever seen. Was that why she left? Because there could surely be no other reason if the young lord was as kind-hearted as he seemed.

"Thank you," she said softly as he handed her the payment, and held the coins in her palm, feeling the warmth of his hand still on them.

"We are all of us alone dear boy - some of us are lucky enough to find someone to share that loneliness with."

She looked up quite sharply at this small piece of wisdom he chose to impart, unsure of what he meant by it. Was it lucky that she had found Aldor only to lose him again? Did Faramir still count himself as lucky to have found Eowyn? Did he still hold out hope that she may return? Miriel wanted to offer him some words of comfort, to reach out to him and tell him that he was not alone, that she would be there for him if ever he needed to talk. But she could not, it was not her place, and anyway how could she say that she would help him when she could not help herself?

As she looked up into his eyes, a small frown marring her fair brow, she thought she saw a flash of understanding there, and knew at once what he was trying to say. She knew it, but she did not trust in her own judgment enough to believe it fully. Was he saying that he knew, even cared, what she was going through? How could he? She was nobody to him, however kind a man he was. He was still a lord of Gondor. Her gaze flickered to the right, and she looked down at the bench on which he had been sitting, clasping her hands together as she stepped back further.

"Thank you," she whispered once more, grey eyes shuttered as her barriers came up even as she tried not to appear rude. "If you have any more headaches or still cannot sleep please do not hesitate to come back."

She looked up at him once more, and smiled softly. Perhaps at least she could try to give him back a little faith in himself.

"No one problem is less or more important than another," she told him, "and we need you to be at your best, Sire, to defend our borders."

[Bogwoppit]

DJ followed West carefully as the Major gestured the three of them to step out onto the path. Thrace looked to be coping fine on her own, and DJ was quite enjoying watching the easy way the young girl sat on her horse, gripping the huge animal between her firm thighs, but hey, who was he to argue?

He smirked as Thrace struggled, almost missing her furious gesturing of brow, but eventually he stepped forward, giving the young girl a winning smile.

"Hi," he grinned, laying the flat of his hand on the horse's sweating neck. The horse stepped sideways, and DJ snatched his hand back. "We're looking for a erm... city? Do you have a king, or a lord? These Valar... do they live among you?"



Eledhwen was still glaring down at Thrace as DJ approached, still not understanding what this woman meant by coming through the... Stargate...

"Another planet?" she repeated, shaking her head slightly, "like, from the stars? How can that be?"

She smirked as Asfaloth sidestepped the man's hand, even if his easy smile did make her want to smile in return.

"Of course the Valar do not live among us!" she laughed as he suggested it, her look telling him quite clearly that he was a complete idiot. "They are the Gods, they live in the stars."

This made her glance back at Thrace. If the Valar lived in the stars, and these people had come from the stars... Her heart stilled in her breast for a split second, before starting to thump furiously against her ribcage.

"We... there is no king..." she stuttered, her false confidence disappearing as she stared at DJ with wide eyes. "There is Lord Denethor... he is the steward in Gondor... I can take you there?"

As she spoke she realised that this could be the answer to her prayers. If they were the Valar, then she, Eledhwen, was the one they had chosen to appear to, and as such she would be forever revered and her father's whore would have to grovel at her feet, along with every other stinking Elf remaining on Middle-Earth. And if they were not, well then at least she would get to Gondor in safety, without having to face possible Orc attacks alone. Once in the city she could think about what she wanted to do next. That would show them back in Edoras that she was capable of more than simply finding a husband and sewing shirts.

[Pinkie]

She was such a gentle creature. She reminded Faramir so much of his estranged wife in both appearance and nature that he found it hard to focus on her being a healer. She could have been Eowyn's sister. Though there was an edge to this healer that Eowyn did not have. It could not be said to be a hard edge, but there was definitely something more solid within her spirit than Eowyn had. Maybe it was sadness that had created it in her ... ? Eowyn loved and was not loved in return. At least not by the man that she loved. The Ranger was quite unaware of how she studied him, marking his movements with consideration and admiration. He did, however, not the small smile that did alight her features, however brief. It suited her. Of course he could not say it suited her. It meant nothing if a commoner commented on a woman's smile, but for a Lord and noble to do so... well, it implied so much more.

Miriel said:

"Thank you, If you have any more headaches or still cannot sleep please do not hesitate to come back. No one problem is less or more important than another, and we need you to be at your best, Sire, to defend our borders."

Yes, exquisitely gentle this woman was.

Faramir saw that it took a while for his words to make sense, and when they did she stepped back and could not meet his eye. The Ranger winced slightly, thinking he had overstepped a mark but did not utter an apology for it. He let her have her say and gave a small smile of relief that barely touched his blue eyes as she told him how she saw his position at Minis Tirith. Unfortunately Faramir had little of the confidence in his importance that the healer did.
He was not needed to defend the borders. That is what Boromir was for.

The Ranger gave a small laugh, bowing his head and fidgeting with the packet of tablets whilst nodding his head gently. He sucked his bottom lip as he thought of a kind way to reply. She deserved such kindness.

"As my father so rightly puts it, my lady, 'Never put the safety of your world in the hands of a scholar'." he said with a rueful smile. Shutting hsi eyes, Faramir shook his head to dismiss the cold words that filtered through his brain, turning his spine to ice. Swallowing hard, he lifted his chin nobly and looked at Miriel, inclining his head briefly.

"Perhaps you could send one of your women to bring these to me later this evening... ?" he asked, handing her back the packet, looking down at his fingers with a pondering frown, "That way we can both be sure that I take the correct dosage at the correct time." Faramir said, dropping the pack into her palm and taking a step back, bowed at the waist and turned, walking straight backed out of the Houses of Healing. His head turned to the right once, looking out at a balcony as he passed -- that balcony is where he had asked Eowyn to marry him. Suppressing the dark, broodiness that rose in his gut, Faramir continued out of the houses of healing, down the steps and across the gleaming white courtyard.

[Pinkie]

DJ said:

"Hi, We're looking for a erm... city? Do you have a king, or a lord? These Valar... do they live among you?"

Thrace took a step back and folded placed a hand on her hip, rubbing a finger over her upper lip as DJ approached the woman on the horse. She had to smirk when he grinned at her the way he did -- he had a cheeky grin and thought it would charm the girl. The blonde almost rolled her eyes but looking up at the woman on the horse she realised that the grin kind of was working.
Resisting the urge to scoff, Thrace ran her teeth over her bottom lip and turned to look at West, giving him an encouraging smile, her hazel eyes bright.
She did think DJ was a big of a geek -- really not her type of guy. Having said that she had barely ever spoken more than two whole sentences to him. Still, he was not her type. Too ... geeky. Thrace liked her men rough and ready - no strings.

Eledhwen said:

"Another planet? like, from the stars? How can that be? Of course the Valar do not live among us! They are the Gods, they live in the stars. We... there is no king... There is Lord Denethor... he is the steward in Gondor... I can take you there?"

Thrace looked back up at the woman with a questionning smile. It was a little arrogant, her smile, aloof perhaps. Condescending came a little closer. The blonde found these primitive people and their gods to be rather sad really. Living in the stars? All that lived in the stars was space dust and the Goa'uld.
She clapped her hands suddenly and walked up to DJ, placing a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it to let him know he had done good and she would take over now -- He'd end up saying something to confuse the poor girl. Thrace smiled up at Eledhwen, still squinting in the sunshine. She glanced over her shoulder at West.

"That sounds good Sir, huh? Lord Denethor it is." she said, turning and walking back towards West. She leaned in beside him and spoke close to his ear. "Do you want me to fall back and get Lake? I doubt the girl would steer us wrong, especially not with DJ smiling at her like that -- but ... " Thrace offered. If West ordered her to go back for Lake she would gladly do it. It would take a bit more of her stamina to 'get lost' and remain outside Gondor with the Captain in case things went foul inside with the Steward. As she spoke, Thrace took her P90 back from West, slinging it over her shoulder, raking a hand back through the loose strands of hair that had fallen down against her cheeks.

Hanging back for Lake also came with the opportunity to smoke which she was gagging for.

[Bogwoppit]

West trusted his people, and he had confidence now in both Thrace and DJ to manage the situation without his help. He wasn't one to run himself ragged doing all the negotiation like other team leaders. He grinned as DJ threw Thrace a wink when she stepped up to take over once more. There was more to that man than met the eye.

His radio crackled.

All clear out here Sir, Lake's voice sounded loud in the hushed surroundings of the forest, and West turned his radio down as Thrace spoke to him.

"That sounds good Sir, huh? Lord Denethor it is. Do you want me to fall back and get Lake? I doubt the girl would steer us wrong, especially not with DJ smiling at her like that -- but ... "

West nodded shortly, smiling up at the young girl on the horse.

"That would be great," he told Eledhwen, adopting an easy manner to put her at her ease. "Thanks."

He looked back at Thrace, considering for a second.

"Yeah, wait for Lake," he instructed, "then both of you bring up the rear."

He paused, giving her a shrewd look.

"As long as I can trust you not to kill each other...?"

He raised his eyebrows at her, before turning to trudge behind Kawalsky along the leafy path. DJ walked ahead with the girl, talking to her in the animated way he had whenever ancient stuff was involved. It amazed West to see, when the lieutenant was usually so unsociable, so stand-offish, the way his face lit up in child-like glee when he met natives of the planets they visited.

[Bogwoppit]

Boromir approached the door to his brother's quarters with trepidation, wringing his finely made goatskin gloves between his big hands. The two were close, closer than any two brothers ever were, and they always had been, but lately things had changed between them. Boromir didn't know if it was Faramir's obsession with Eowyn that drove a wedge between them, or that their father's derogatory comments and snide remarks had finally worn the younger man down to such a point that even his older brother could not convince him of his worth. All Boromir knew was that they hadn't truly spoken, not properly, since Faramir's marriage to the faithless woman who had professed to love him for better or for worse.

Taking a deep breath, Boromir knocked, and threw open the heavy door before he could change his mind.

"Faramir!" he greeted his brother as though returning from a long and bloody campaign. "It is good to see you. Why did you not come to me on your return?"

(Working on the idea that Faramir would have gone after her when she left, or she refused to come back with him when they visited Rohan, after a long troubled time...?)

Boromir was shocked at the younger man's haggard appearance. Even in his more forlorn moments Faramir had always looked well, healthy, but now he had great dark shadows beneath dull eyes reddened from too little sleep or too much thinking. His thick reddish hair he wore longer than usual too, as though he could not be bothered to take care of himself. Boromir stopped in his headlong rush which he had adopted to give him courage, and regarded his brother with sorrow and sympathy, as though only then realising just how much the betrayal of his wife had hurt him.

Faramir had always been the thinker of the two, always with his head in a book or following on the tail of one of the city scholars asking improbable questions. Boromir had always been the fighter, the protector, there with sympathy and encouragement where Denethor was not, always the one to fight in his brother's corner, always the one Faramir could rely on when all others failed him, and it brought him low to think he hadn't been able to protect his little brother from this latest hurt. He had seen the way their father had undermined Faramir's already low esteem, but even Boromir, as well as he knew the young man, could not realise just how much the constant lack of confidence in Faramir's abilities had affected him.

"Brother..." he spoke quietly now, stepping forward and holding his arms wide to embrace him. "Wh... "

His words died on his lips. Why did he not say how much he was hurting? Why did he let it go this far? Perhaps he had tried to tell Boromir, but perhaps Boromir had been too wrapped up in his own problems, the problems of rebuilding their beautiful city, to hear him when he needed to be heard.

[Pinkie]

West said:

"Yeah, wait for Lake, then both of you bring up the rear. As long as I can trust you not to kill each other...?"

Thrace gave West a charming smile, cheeky and bubbly. She lifted her hands in supplication and gave a wry laugh as she started to walk backwards into the brush that they had come through. Her expression was bright, her hazel eyes glittered as she looked at her superior, giving him a wink.

"Would I, Sir?" she mused, knowing that West knew her reputation probably better than she did. With an amused laugh, she nodded her head towards DJ and the girl and then turned, hurrying back into the forest back the way they had come looking for Lake. It wasn't teh goodness of her heart that had her offer to go find Lake, nor the fact that she was the best suited to do the job - -no no. Thrace asked to go back for Lake because she wanted to get some manner of revenge for his earlier whispering in her ear about not tripping.

When she got a certain distance, Thrace took out a pack of cigarettes and shook one loose. She lit it up and let it hang off the side of her lip as she put her hands back onto the P90. It wasn't that far until she heard the crunch of dry leaves underfoot - and then she spotted him. He must always wear that scowling expression she figured.. seeing as he was on his own and still bloody scowling. The sad bastard wuoldn't know a good time if it jumped up and bit him in his weary old ass!

Extinguishing her cigarette underfoot, Thrace edged around the Captain and with a devious grin she creeped around behind him and tip-toed down until she was close enough to toss a cone from one of tree at him. Thrace knew that even her presence was enough to irk the man and so she decided to be chirpy -- annoying.

"Don't you ever smile?" she asked as she trotted down to walk next to him, elbowing him slightly to rouse a reaction. "... Sir." the blonde added with obvious levity. "Westy sent me back to drag your sorry ass towards Gondor. We're off to meet the stewad Dorothy." Thrace grinned.

[Pinkie]

Faramir had gone straight to his rooms. He had paused at the large staircase that led to the vaults beneath Minis Tirith, thinking he might go down there and read like he had done with Gandalf all those long years ago. But the thoughts of doing it alone now -- without someone to tell of his discoveries... it just did not appeal to the young Gondorian. He was both troubled and pleased about his encounter in the Houses of Healing. He had not even discovered her name but she had been kind to him when there had been no need to be anything other than professional. He hardly encouraged kindness in his current dark mood.

Standing by the window, the letter from Eowyn in hand, Faramir was surprised to hear a knock on the door. He turned around and saw his brother stood there like a vision. He had longed to go to Boromir but ... how could he? How could he fail at everything that he put his hand to? Being a soldier, being a scholar, being a son and now he had failed at being a husband. He was an embarrassment to all and sundry... especially Boromir.
Boromir had always gone beyond the call of duty to ensure that Faramir was included. To ensure that his little brother was safe and well taken care of, that he was well trained and well versed. How let down he must feel to see his brother so undone.

A hard lump formed in Faramir's throat when his brother paused in his approach. He saw the pity in his eyes and dipped his head to hide the shame he felt.

Boromir said:

"Faramir! It is good to see you. Why did you not come to me on your return? Brother... Wh... "

Looking up and seeing Boromir with his arms spread, Faramir choked back a sob and smiled, taking large steps forward until he reached his brother, wrapping his strong arms about his underarms, resting the side of his head against Boromir's. Even Boromir felt strong! Faramir felt weak - he felt wispish and lithe in comparison with his warrior like brother. Yet he did not resent Boromir for it. He loved him for it.

Breathing a strangled sob-like laugh, Faramir shut his blue eyes and patted Boromir's back companionably before withdrawing, holding onto the older man's upper arms. Moisture misted over the younger man's eyes as he looked at his brother.

"Forgive my distance brother... My moods have been dark and wintry." he excused his lack of presence in a quiet voice, hoarse and yet he smiled through it. Boromir's presence gave him hope. Sniffing, Faramir withdrew from Boromir, looking quizically at the letter bunched in his hand before placing it onto the table and turning towards the tray of cider by the window where he poured two cups. "You have much on your plate as it is. Father ensures I am kept well abreast of all that you do..." the ranger said and grimaced at how bitter that might be taken though he had not intended it. Turning to look at Boromir over his shoulder, he gave him a sorry look - - "You know I do not mean that against you." the man assured his brother and walked over to him, handing him the mug of cider and took a deep breath.

So far he had managed not to blurt it out that Eowyn had left him. No doubt Boromir knew but surely there would be questions -- about why she had not returned to Gondor, about why Faramir had not stayed in Rohan... about why Faramir, yet again, had failed in one of life's greatest challenges. Again.

[Bogwoppit]

Lake was actually quite happy following on behind, watching out for boogeymen sneaking up on the team. P90 at the ready to shoot anything that moved... unless whatever it was had a taste for bloody annoying blonde bimbos who thought they were tough, then Lake would just let the boogeyman go right on through, show it the way even. Fuck she was an irritating, jumped up little cow. Lake didn't like women like that, he liked women who knew they were women, who dressed in women's clothes, who did women's things, not ones that ran around the jungle pretending they were blokes. There had been one ore two at the air base, and they were fucking irritating too. Not that Lake was a male chauvinist, not at all, he wasn't one to keep women chained to the kitchen sink, but there were some jobs they just weren't meant to do, jobs that should be left to the men.

He plodded along, to all intents and purposes half asleep, blue eyes hooded and permanent frown lines etched between his brows. But he was alert, watching, listening, waiting. Whatever fuck up he had made of his personal life, Nathan Lake was fucking good at his job.

He heard Thrace before she threw the pine cone, and he knew it was her, he could smell the cigarette smoke. Silly cow didn't even know to keep downwind. He shook his head slightly, and only scowled even deeper as the cone hit him on the ear.

"Don't you ever smile? Westy sent me back to drag your sorry ass towards Gondor. We're off to meet the steward Dorothy."

Lake glanced sideways at her as she trotted up beside him, looking her up and down briefly before reaching into his pocket for his own cigarettes. Lighting one he put them back without offering them to her, and took a deep drag.

"Do you ever wear dresses Thrace?" he asked, his tone mild.

[Bogwoppit]

Eledhwen was rather enjoying herself. Here at last was a man who neither teased her nor told her to run home to her aunt, but seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. He asked her lots of questions, about her people, about the land around them, about Middle-Earth in general and about Denethor and Gondor. This last she could not answer him much about, for she had never been to Minis Tirith herself, but she tried to recall everything she had heard of the great city.

As she rode and these strange people walked along beside her, she glanced around at them each in turn. The woman had disappeared, to wait for another man if she heard correctly, and the two who were not with her... West? And... Kawa-something... they walked companionably behind Asfaloth.

"It will be three days until we reach Gondor," she spoke easily to DJ as she nimbly leaped down from her horse's back to walk beside him. "We must camp in the open, so we are able to see all around, and light fires. They are afraid of fire."

"They?" muttered DJ, giving her a concerned look. "Is there something we need to know?"

"Only goblins," Eledhwen went on happily. "At least, Orcs should not venture this far east, but it is best to be safe."

DJ nodded cautiously, and dropped back to inform West of this new development. West radioed back to Thrace and Lake, and the small party walked on.

[Pinkie]

Thrace had thought about inviting Lake out to one of the sessions that her and a few other airmen went to off-base at the weekends... just to loosen him up. But everytime she had thought to invite him the fucker went and said or did something stupid. Something irritating. Or called her Barbie. But his dark mood was not going to bring her down - not today. The blonde smiled over at teh Captain, a smug smile - knowing her presence irked him.

When he glanced over at her she grinned. He took out cigarettes and didn't offer her one. Thrace snorted and rolled her hazel eyes, looking ahead of them again.

Lake said:

"Do you ever wear dresses Thrace?"

Now why did he have to go say soemthing like that? Weren't they getting along just fine, walking in the woods, enjoying each other's company and swapping some quality silence together?
Thrace rolled her eyes, the smug grin slipping from her face as she gave Lake a baleful look. She lifted her eyebrows and gave him the finger. She didn't care much for rank and from what she knew of Lake thus far, neither did he. Unless it suited him, the bastard.

"Fuck you." she said tartly, walking on ahead of him, delibrately stepping out in front of him to walk directly ahead.

And on they walked for most of the day - always staying that little bit behind the group. When darkness fell, it fell quickly. Thrace didn't even ask Lake if they were going to set up camp, she just did. Hunkering down, she lit a small fire and sniffed, laying back on teh ground casually, her hands folded over her flat stomach, her jacket balled up beneath her head and her ankles crossed. Her chin was tucked down against her chest as she looked at the fire . Hazel eyes flickered over towards Lake --

"How'd you get into the SGC Lake?" Thrace asked casually, not able to abide the silence between them any longer. She took out a cigarette and flicked one across the darkness to the Captain.

[Bogwoppit]

Boromir held his brother tightly, noting the sharpness of his shoulder blades beneath his thin woolen shirt. The boy had lost weight too. What had that woman done to him? As Faramir stood back Boromir looked deeply into blue eyes so like his own. There was a deep sadness there, an abyss, and it saddened the older man to his very soul.

"Forgive my distance brother... My moods have been dark and wintry.
You have much on your plate as it is. Father ensures I am kept well abreast of all that you do...
You know I do not mean that against you."

Boromir noticed the letter in his hand as the younger man placed it on the table, and stepped nearer to see from whom it was sent. The girlish, flowery writing made him grit his teeth, and he stepped away, but not before he had read some of the words she had felt Faramir needed to know, and the final, cutting blow.

I cannot return to Gondor, please do not ask me again. I do not love you...

Boromir pursed his lips in anger and turned away before Faramir could see the pity in his eyes. So it was true; all that he had heard, despite his disbelief that Eowyn, indeed anyone, could do such a thing to this kind, gentle man, she was not coming back. Her ridiculous obsession with the Numenorean had finally addled her brain. Boromir had never taken to Eowyn, she was too insipid, played on her fair frailty when it suited her. Boromir had seen through her. He accepted the goblet offered graciously, smiling at his younger brother.

"The old man is a fool," he spoke of their father, knowing that Faramir would not admit such even as Denethor condemned him with his every breath. "He does not realise just how much we rely on you and your men to keep the city safe. He does not see worth when it is right before his eyes."

Reaching out with his free hand he briefly clasped his brother's shoulder, before stepping back to lean against a small chest, long legs stretched out in front of him.

"But enough of this morbid talk," he continued, his tone falsely bright. "You are coming to the festival are you not? I shall expect you to share my burden of gracious host. You know how I hate these social functions."

It was true. Faramir had ever been better at handling petty politics and soothing offended minor dignitaries than he, and in any case Boromir wanted to use this night wisely, in search for some new young maiden to initiate. He was bored of all the planning and plotting, it was time for Faramir to take up his position of responsibility once more. He could talk to his brother of the trouble along the borders, of Denethor's growing madness and of the shortage of grain since the war and the decimation of some of the best farmland. But he feared it would only serve to drag the young man even deeper into the pit of despair he had dug for himself. No, the running of the city could wait, tonight the brothers had more important things to do.

"You have shirked your position for long enough brother," he grinned, softening his truthful words. "We need you, you cannot skulk in your room forever."

Seeing the sorrow in the young Ranger's eyes, he took pity, and regarded him openly for a time.

"I am here for you Faramir," he said quietly. "You only need ask, anytime, day or night, you know that do you not?"

[Bogwoppit]

Lake was not the kind of man to indulge in idle conversation, hadn't been for, oh... about two years now. Before, he had been the life and soul of the party, always the centre of attention, men and women alike gravitating towards his magnetic presence. Not now though, things had changed. Now he didn't seek company, did not enjoy being around people, didn't enjoy anything much, except getting drunk. And even that he didn't exactly enjoy, it was just a means to an end ~ forgetting. He had much to forget, much to be sorry for; sometimes he was sorry, but mostly he just tried to forget.

He didn't want Thrace here with him, he didn't need babysitting, he wanted to be left alone with his thoughts. But he knew West had been given specific instruction where he was concerned, to make sure he was never left alone for too long, to keep an eye on his state of mind, and most of all to look out for telltale signs of his alcoholism... shaking hands, loss of concentration, mood swings...

The mood swings weren't a problem ~ he was always a miserable bad tempered bastard, but a couple of times he knew West had caught sight of the cold sweats that sometimes wracked his body when he couldn't get what he craved.

"How'd you get into the SGC Lake?"

Now there was the question wasn't it, and there were so many answers, none of which Lake wanted to share. But they were out here together, alone in a strange world, and there was nothing else to do except stare into the flames of the fire (which by the way he was quite impressed with, though he would never admit it) and wish he had a drink. And where was the harm in talking? After all, he could always kill her afterwards and say it was one of these Orc thingies that West had told them about over the radio. Then again, she would only take the piss, so no, maybe not, not the real reason anyway, not all of it. That would never be told if he had anything to do with it, not off his own bat at least.

"I nearly killed someone flying the 302s," he shrugged, fixing her with the full force of his steel-blue gaze before sniffing and looking down at the smouldering cigarette in his curled fist. "I think they're hoping some fucking alien monster will bite my head off so they don't have to deal with me and my hang-ups any more."

He said all this, probably the most personal thing he had ever volunteered since being here, in a neutral tone, no emotion showing in his gravelly voice. But his hand shook as he lifted the cigarette to his lips and, annoyed with himself, he fixed her once again with a steely glare.

"What about you?" he asked gruffly. "What the hell do you want to run round with the big boys firing guns for? Bat for the other side do ya?"

He knew that wasn't true, or at least, it wasn't if the base gossip was to be believed. Women weren't the only ones to discuss the opposite sex in the showers, and Lake had been amused to hear how frequently Thrace's name came up amongst the ranks. She sounded like she knew how to have a good time.

[Pinkie]

I cannot return to Gondor, please do not ask me again. I do not love you...

Oh the letter spoke more hurtful words than those which Boromir glimpsed! The words to follow upon those ones he set his blue eyes on were what struck Faramir straight to the heart. The words of how Eowyn had never truly loved him but had pitied him moreso. She had pitied his position, the cruelty he suffered at his father's hands but he would never be able to be what she needed -- that he would never be the man she needed in her life. That man was Aragorn.
Faramir knew he had no chance to compare himself to Aragorn --- Elessar.

When he turned back to Boromir, the older man took the goblet and Faramir smiled though his expression remained a little weary, strained. He went to sit on a hard chair facing Boromir across the room. His own goblet he held loosely in his hands having no real desire to drink. It would be all too easy to immerse himself in wine and use it to blot out the pains that he felt, the misery that seemed to darken his spirit, but he was too sensible to do that. He was too bloody straight-laced to do it.

Boromir said:

"The old man is a fool, He does not realise just how much we rely on you and your men to keep the city safe. He does not see worth when it is right before his eyes. But enough of this morbid talk, You are coming to the festival are you not? I shall expect you to share my burden of gracious host. You know how I hate these social functions. You have shirked your position for long enough brother, We need you, you cannot skulk in your room forever."

Faramir visibly flinched when Boromir called their father a fool. Oh he suffered at his father's sharp tongue, he suffered miserably under the man's scrutiny and criticsm but he did not like to hear him being spoken of in such a blunt manner. The younger man glanced over at Boromir with a grimace, silently pleading with him not to speak such cruel words. But even in this Boromir was the strogner of the two. He could stand up to Denethor - he could speak word of black-and-white honesty to their father and his word would be taken as gospel. Faramir, on the other hand, could philosophise and critique any battle strategy and his father always turned his nose up at it, favouring Boromir's blunt approach than Faramir's scholarly one.

Boromir's smiles were almost enough to lighten Faramir's heart -- and he did try. A faltering smile curled his lips, blue eyes sparkling intermittently as the Ranger looked admiringly at his older brother. He was the picture of nobility -- And he spoke such truths that made Faramir's cheeks turn an embarrassed red as he dipped his head miserably.

"I am sorry for leaving it all on your shoulders---" he whispered, lickign his lips nad glancing up at Boromir from beneath a furrowed brow. The thoughts of attending the festival made Faramir's stomach turn to a churning pit of ice. He sighed hard and lifted a hand to his forehead, lookign at Boromir in the hopes that the older man would see how he did not wish to be at the event and relent. But instead, Faramir saw understanding, sibling support gleaming in his brother's blue eyes.

Boromir said:

"I am here for you Faramir, You only need ask, anytime, day or night, you know that do you not?"

Oh by heavens he knew! Boromir had always been there for him -- whenever he needed him. Except at Osgilliath when he had almost died. Faramir knew his very existance depended on his brother's survival. Without Boromir he would be nothing -- he would be worse than nothing.

Faramir met Boromir's eyes for a long, silent moment but eventualy nodded. His eyes dropped to the ground and he shrugged his thinning shoulders.

"I know. And I know that you seek to do good by rousing me from this self-imposed misery, brother." Faramir admitted, swallowing hard and looking back up at his brother with bashful sorrow. "I had not intended to attend the festival this evening -- but --" Faramir sighed heavily, wearily. He ran the back of his hand over his forehead, brushign away reddish whisps that caught down against his beard, "Your words remind me of my duty here..." the Ranger said with obvious regret for having neglected it. His emphasis was Faramir's way of acknowledging his doomed marriage without mentioning it directly.
Another hard, hitched sigh. Faramir took a distracted gulp of cider and swirled his cup idly, looking down at the liquid.
"I was such a fool to believe --" Faramir stopped as the words choked him, forcing a hard lump to form in his throat. He shook his head miserably and hardened his jaw, focussing on keeping himself composed though he felt every nerve and vessel in his body tighten to snapping point. He had been a fool to believe a woman like Eowyn could love him, that he could possibly fill even a portion of the gap that Aragorn had once filled.