Ghosts

[Bogwoppit]

(Ooc: I just cried when I read that

I love you for making Faramir the one you posted )

[Bogwoppit]

"I would sooner eat that chair than attend this evening's festival."

There, there for an instant was the Captain of Gondor that Miriel remembered from before the war; the man who was always ready to laugh, to share a joke, even if he did hide deeper thoughts behind the ready smile. Miriel couldn't help but smile slightly, more at her own boldness than at his reply, for that was also something that she had not seen for a long time. At one time she would not hesitate to speak up for herself, even if it meant getting her into trouble, but lately she had withdrawn into a hollow shell of her former self, and until just now she hadn't even realised it.

She glanced away from the young steward as he reached a strong hand around the back of his neck, looking down at the floor and taking a small step backwards. Her hands wound themselves in the folds of her apron as she wondered whether it would be rude to take her leave, and she bit her bottom lip nervously, looking up sharply as Faramir spoke again.

"I -- I wonder how a healer such as yourself would view my attendance to the festival...? Could I beg of you to tell my brother I am too ill to attend?"

No! No... she could not visualize herself having the courage to approach the elder of the two brothers. Boromir had always struck her as a little forbidding, arrogant even. Surely Lord Faramir would not ask her such a thing, surely he could see that she did not like to be around people these days...? But no, how could he know? He did not know her. She was no one special, just a healer among many, the widow of a reliable craftsman, part of the multitude of peoples who lived in this vast city. Why would he possibly be interested in her small life, or know what she was like before she had lost her husband to realise just how she had changed?

She stared at him, torn between obeying a request from a noble, and speaking out again, begging him not to ask that of her.

"No - forget I asked such a thing, good woman. I must attend to my duty. Would you like to --- If it pleases you, you might come with me."

Miriel breathed again, without even realising that she had been holding her breath in the first place, and then that same breath caught in her throat as she heard his next words. Dark grey eyes opened even wider as she realised what he had requested... suggested... ordered...? No... not an order. She heard the hesitation in his voice, and her heart went out to him. He thought she would refuse, and become yet another in a long line of rejections. Even she, as lowly as she was, would bring him even lower. She could not do that.

And yet, a festival... It was the last place Miriel would wish to be tonight, or any night. She could not face all those people, the singing, the dancing, the drinking and the laughter, the sheer life in everyone would be too much for her to take. The very thought of it had her heart pounding in her throat and she swallowed hard, desperately trying to seek a reason she could not go. Why would he, a lord, a steward, a captain, want to go to such an auspicious occasion with her, a nobody? Did he truly see in her such a kindred spirit, as his suggestion of earlier had implied? Could they really help each other in their loneliness?

It had been more than a year since Aldor had lost his life, and in all that time Miriel had not so much as looked at another man, nor did she ever expect to again. Of course, she knew without even thinking about it that Faramir did not look at her in that way, even without the heartache on both sides one such as he would not consider her. The thought never for one second even entered her head, but the fact that he might need a friend, that did enter her mind, and she frowned a little as she thought of the implications. She used to have lots of friends, she had been popular, and now she had shut them all out of her life, afraid of the memories they might bring with them, afraid of their supposed words of kindness and understanding. They could not understand, those who had known her before, but this man, one who had gone through just as much anguish as she, one who had not known her in her other life, maybe he could understand. Maybe they could help one another.

She glanced up at him, aware of his expectant expression despite his show of brisk authority. She did not want to go... but she did want to see him smile again, and so she nodded.

"I... would like that," she replied, knowing her tone belied her words. "Thank you my Lord. As long as... as..."

Was it seemly for one of his station to appear in public with a working class woman? Would his father think even less of him than he already seemed to? Would he become a target for his brother to make fun of? The law in Gondor did not prevent the gentry mixing with the lower classes of course, and it was not as though they were going as partners, but Miriel knew all too well how it would look, and how quickly the gossip would begin.

[Bogwoppit]

(Ooc: I'm going away tomorrow for the weekend so I won't be around at all Be back monday though )



At the sound of hoofbeats Eledhwen had immediately swung back up into her saddle, turning Asfaloth towards the sound. Her heart sank as they were surrounded, but she kept her defiant expression. No Gondorian would ever better an Eorlinga on horseback.

"You tricked us!"

She whipped her head round to glare at the tall man, even as she lowered her bow to the ground for a Gondorian soldier to take.

"I did not," she protested fiercely. "They only protect their city, as would we. There are foul things afoot in these times. You look... stranger, if not fouler, than most."

She turned to the captain before any of the strangers could speak.

"We wish no harm to Gondor or Minas Tirith," she spoke up, trying to sound like Eomer again and this time succeeding slightly more. "I am Eledhwen of Rohan, and I come seeking work in your fair city. These people are travelers I met on the way."

She shot a warning look at West and DJ, willing them to not mention the Stargate. Not many outside of Rohan knew of its existence, and she had no wish to change that fact.

The captain of the Gondorian patrol looked her up and down before turning and doing the same to the rest of the small party. Seemingly satisfied that she told the truth, he nodded briefly.

"You will come with us," he intoned, turning his horse towards the white tower of Minas Tirith. "My Lord Denethor would be interested as to your purpose here."

The soldiers surrounded them, and effectively began to push the group towards the city.

West glanced at Kawalsky and raised a dark eyebrow. Well, they wanted to meet this Denethor guy, so it couldn't be all bad. But were the hell were Lake and Thrace?

[Pinkie]

They truly were a primitive, base people these humans. Their entertainments were coarse and abrasive to his Elvish ears and tastes. When the musician started to strum a harp, Haldir closed his eyes in consternation and turned to look at the creature that could possibly make the harp sound crude.

Boromir said:

"Haldir my friend! How are you? I thought you had run off with one of our women it has been so long."

Haldir jerked forwards when Boromir came towards him and clattered him in the back. His neck snapped forward then backwards and he turned to give the Gondorian a cool smile. Indeed, he didn't so much hate the manner in which Boromir greeted other men, he just did not see the purpose in assaulting people who were meant to be friends, aqcuaintaineces at the least.

Well, to call the eldest son of Denethor an aqcuaintaince was a rather large understatement. Despite him being human, Haldir did quite enjoy Boromir's company. He did not feel like such an anomaly when the man was around... he did not feel like people stared at him so much.

"I keep to myself, Boromir. My purpose has yet to to unfold in your city but I feel the time comes near." the Elf said in the smooth and graceful, even tone that was the gift of his people. His voice almost sounded musical as he turned to stand in beside Boromir and looked out amongst the revellers. His distaste was obvious in the set of his mouth. He licked his lips and narrowed his eyes ---

"How fares your brother? He has returned to the city." Haldir did not partake in gossip though it would be a deaf man (elf) who did not know that Faramir had returned ... and without his wife.


((ooc: oh it's very flimsy! Sorry! I got called into work today and I had intended on catching up in here but sure I'll do it when I home. I know you not waiting and stuff, just leting you know what's what. And yes! Faramir! Oh what a beauteous soul he is!))

[Bogwoppit]

(I'm reading a lovely fan fic atm. Only just started it but on the first page Faramir is described perfectly, with his lines and thoughts.

www.fanfiction.net/s/1727856/1/Gemini

The grammar leaves a bit to be desired but the wording is wonderful )

[Pinkie]

Overall, Thrace reckoned she looked the better of the two. Of course she couldn't see the swelling on her chin and the cut from where she had banged herself. She did see the blood trickling down one side of Lake's face and she could see how wasted he was, tired and broken. She looked just as bad - her short blonde hair in wild disarray, dust and dirt streaking her face and neck and arms.

Lake said:

"Shit, What the fuck's going on? You alright? They didn't... y'know, didn't hurt you? Any more than they hurt me I mean... erm... any... differently..."

The blonde didn't know what it was he was hinting at at first. She huffed out a hard breath and looked in the direction of their captors. They were sat around talking to each other, Thrace fixed each and every one of them with a glare that should have set their cloaks on fire. Lake's question went unanswered for a moment while the woman deciphered his meaning and when she did her head whipped around, hazel eyes lookng up surprised at Lake. Did he really give that much of a fuck?

The woman gave a lopsided smile and shook her head, sucking her bottom lip.

"I wish." she chuckled, shaking her head against the tree trunk. "If I could get one of them to look at me in that way at all we might just stand a chance to get outta this fuck-up but they are all either gay or I am in a worse state than I feel." Thrace mused with a wicked light in her eyes. Truthfully she would not want or stand for any of them putting a hand on her but at least it would be a means of engaging them -- right now they did not speak to nor at their prisoners.

Thrace swallowed hard and looked up at Lake - just looked at him a while.

"Fuck --" the word whispered past her lips and she looked away from the Captain, licking her bottom lip, wrinkling her nose to taste blood - "I reckon they're bringing us to that city there -- do we let them or try make a break for it while we're out in the wild? They've got all my weapons -- even my fucking cigarettes the bastards." the blonde muttered, more distressed at the lack of smokes than weapons right now.

[Pinkie]

Yes he thought she would refuse. Faramir demanded that his soldiers, his men obey his every word but he had never had such high opinions of himself to expect people to agree with him just because he was the son of the Steward of Gondor. In fact, it was this very position that made him so doubtful of his own worth. How could he expect people to obey him when his father belittled him so? All knew that Faramir was the least favoured son of Gondor - why should they obey someone of such a low, snivelling position?

Faramir's gentle blue eyes watched Miriel as she considered his proposal. He had no idea the thoughts that ran through her mind - how she wished to see him smile, how she wished to see his spirit restored. It was ironic because his offer had been for that purpose for Miriel too. To give her a chance of restoration... to relieve some of the pain that weighed so heavily in her heart having lost her husband. Was it worse to have lost a love to death or obscurity? Faramir knew not -- but he did know that their burdens were heavy and perhaps company on the lonely road would be all they would need to find peace again.

Miriel said:

"I... would like that, Thank you my Lord. As long as... as..."

And now it was the son of Gondor that released a breath he had been holding. It came out in a breathy sort of laugh - his eyes crinkling at the sides and his head bowing, causing tendrils of hair to fall forward against his cheeks. Faramir looked at his boots, feeling relief at her words because it would have been very easy for her to deny him. It would have been very easy for her to think ill of his proposal, to find fault in it where he had meant none. He had seen it happen before with his words and intentions.

Her words trailed off. Faramir swallowed and nodded his head, looking up at the woman with the remnants of a smile on his lips. He was a perceptive man. He was a gentle man, considerate. He heard the toen of her voice working against the words that she voiced. He licked his lips and narrowed his eyes somewhat as he looked up into her gray eyes.

"You do me a great honour though --" the man paused, drawing his teeth against his bottom lip and lifted a hand to gesture to Miriel's chest briefly, " -- your heart begs you not to." Faramir made reference to her really not wanting to go, and yet he did not tell her not to come with him. He wanted her to attend with him, for however long or short a time they would be there. It did not occur to his noble mind that he wished her to attend with him, not because he did not want to attend alone, but because he truly did wish to spend more time with her. He wished to be a hero for once - to ease some of her pain and lessen some of the hurt that racked her small body.

The Ranger reached his hand out to take hers, very gently, and he brought her fingers to his lips briefly, his blue eyes looking down the gentle arch of her thin wrist to her forearm and shoulder before meeting her eyes. There was an appreciative, humble smile on his lips now. Greatful.

"Shall we?" he asked clearly, but quietly.

[Pinkie]

Éonan stood by the dais -- again. Her chilly blue eyes looked out amongst the revellers with silent admiration. All the women were in their finest garb, including Elendur who looked like something from the days gone by when Gondor was ruled by Kings and Queens. Éonan's own dress was -- well, it was more elaborate than she normally wore - a purple, simple gown but she wore the apron of her station over it still. Her hair was worn down and she watched -- chewing her bottom lip occassionally.

Elendur was moving about in her pale blue gown, smiling and creating good cheer wherever she went. Her hair was worn in a very simple down-style which was not usually the way of the daughter of Denethor. But it suited her. It drew all eyes to her for her beauty had been noted on many occassions before -- but now her beauty was altered, certainly not lessened, but definitely altered.

The elf was there, Éonan noted with a nervous twist of her hands. She had read so many tales of romance involving those ethereal creatures that she could not look at Haldir without imagining some whimsical tale around him. He was a handsome man - as all elves tended to be - but his elegance and appeal dwindled to Éonan as Boromir approached. Her heart was set to thundering in her chest and her breath caught in her throat when the man walked into the room. He lit the place and brought it to such a zenith yet he was so unaware of it. Even Denethor straightened and smiled when Boromir came close.

Éonan dipped her head nervously, her hands pressing against her flat stomach. Slowly she lifted her eyes but kept her face downcast, watching with a fond smile as Boromir slapped Haldir on the back and laughed. His face was so bright, his eyes so shining when he smiled!

"You watch him like a lovesick young girl, Éonan." the melifluous voice of Elendur sounded from beside Éonan, causing her to jump and her cheeks to blush. She bit the inside of her bottom lip and turned to the side a little, facing Elendur so that Boromir would not notice her blushes.
"Please, my Lady -- " Éonan whispered, praying Elendur did not speak of her affections for her brother with him being so close. He could overhear and all would fall to ruin if he knew that she felt so strongly for him -- or at all!

Elendur gave a beautiful laugh. Her blonde hair chimed gently as she shook her head and placed a hand on Éonan's forearm, leaned forward to her ear and spoke - -

"Your secret is safe with me. What think you of the elf?" Elendur stood back a little and smiled, looking over at Haldir admiringly. She had not thought he would really attend the festival but here he was - standing before her like a vision from days gone by. Elendur was soemwhat disappointed for she had thought to be taken aback by the presence of an elf, to become infatuated and deeply in love with a creature of such pure, ancient and magical blood. But, in truth, whilst he was flawless, there was just something too --- pure about him for her to worship.

Éonan shrugged her shoulders and looked over at Haldir. In that moment the Elf looked in their direction and Éonan squeeked, dipping her head and turning away from him altogether. Elendur's eyebrows raised and she looked over at the man and elf, smiling when she caught her brother's eye.
"He is intense, my Lady." Éonan admitted breathily, shaking her head and frowning.

Elendur nodded in agreement and smoothed a hand down the side of her skirt gently.
"Indeed he is -- but he is of flesh and blood like you and I -- and Boromir." the blonde said as she stepped away from Éonan, going over towards her brother and the Elf with such grace of movement that she might have been floating on a cloud.

[Bogwoppit]

"You do me a great honour though -- your heart begs you not to."

Miriel blushed slightly at this gently delivered yet perceptive remark, hoping that he would not take her apparent reluctance to heart. The last thing she wanted to do was make him wish he had not asked.

She began to shake her head, to protest even though what he said was utterly correct, but before she could speak her fingers were grasped lightly in his large, calloused hand, and brought to his lips. Miriel barely concealed a gasp at this action, and for a moment her gaze was fixed upon his mouth, even as he lowered her hand. His gesture was all at once forward and bold, yet courteous and gentlemanly, and Miriel wished she knew what he was thinking as he did it, even as she drew her hand back automatically.

Since Aldor's untimely death she had suffered her fair share of men who thought they would try their luck with her, either for a brief dalliance, or looking for marriage. Men seemed to regard any widow as needing their protection, who should be grateful that they deigned to offer her a night, or longer, in their beds, as though once a woman had grown used to the warmth of a man beside her at night they could not live without it. Most had accepted when she declined, telling them she could not even think about being with another yet, if ever, but one or two had seemed to view her as some strange, cold being, and had been harder to convince that she did not want their attentions. Not only could she not face the touch of another, but she dare not let another into her affections, for fear that she would grow to care for him and he too would be snatched from her.

She could not truly believe that this man, this captain, was trying to woo her, and yet even so fear gripped her for an instant as she tried to think of anything she might have done or said to encourage him. No, that was ridiculous. Even without the despair each had suffered, one such as Lord Faramir would never look upon her in such a way, and so she could soothe the frayed nerves which had her in a panic. With this noble man she was quite safe from the urges which drove men to pursue any woman they saw as fair game.

"Shall we?"

Hearing in his soft voice hurt even where there was none, Miriel felt ashamed at having entertained such thoughts for an instant, and she smiled as she nodded, turning to walk through the door as he opened it. She wondered whether she was expected to take his arm, as would be usual for a woman accompanied by a man anywhere in the city, but they were not a couple, and so she did not, merely walking by his side as they approached the grand hall.

At the entrance she paused, looking around at the decoration and the throng of people inside, all of whom seemed happy, enjoying themselves. A sharp pang of regret pierced her heart, and tears filled her eyes unbidden as she thought of how Aldor always loved these gatherings. Blinking, she half turned her face away from Faramir as they entered, not wishing him to see her upset, as they walked to one of the long tables bulging with food and wine.

"Are you expected to circulate, my Lord?" she asked quickly, before he could comment. "If so please do not feel you have to remain by my side. I shall be quite content to watch from here."

As she spoke she looked around, to see Boromir standing with the Elf, and his half sister close beside the two. What a strange, ethereal creature Haldir was; sometimes Miriel wished she could have the stillness, the self-containment that he seemed to emanate. He seemed to be free from everyday pain and worries. But then, who knew what those ancient eyes had seen, what secrets they held? Denethor sat behind the small group, cold, hard eyes watching the proceedings, and as Miriel glanced his way his gaze locked on hers, seemingly piercing her very soul, accusing, questioning, judging. Miriel looked away quickly, her heart in her mouth. Denethor was a cruel man, a tyrant, and she did not wish to see the depravity of his fevered mind in his gaze.

[Bogwoppit]

Boromir couldn't help but smirk at the self-importance of the Elf, but despite their differences the eldest son of the steward liked Haldir. There was something noble about him, a trait which Boromir was good at showing to the world but not so good at demonstrating in his own life at times.

"How fares your brother? He has returned to the city."

The mention of his brother sobered Boromir greatly, and his face darkened as he glanced towards his father. This was the only matter on which the two, so alike in most ways, disagreed. Denethor had always favoured his eldest son, seeing in him the ability to do no wrong, whereas Faramir could seem to do no right no matter how he tried. As they grew up Boromir had witnessed the younger child's sensitive soul torn apart by the steward's harsh words and cruel actions, and it had only served to make him more determined that Faramir should one day prove himself worthy of the same love afforded himself. Indeed, though he would not admit it easily, Boromir knew that Faramir was by far the worthier of the two of them. Faramir did not bed any wench that caught his eye, Faramir did not get drunk and brag about his conquests in war or in bed to his fellow soldiers, Faramir had not tried to take the ring from Frodo...

"He has indeed returned," Boromir replied absently, pensive gaze still on his father, though his thoughts were with the ice queen Éowyn who had betrayed the trust of one more worthy than she would ever be.

Faramir had ever been too open with his heart, over sensitive and over thinking, always seeking acceptance and love, and she had thrown it back at him, deliberately taunting him with her words of the great deeds of the Rangers of the North. In its own way what she had done to him was worse than what their father had achieved over the years, for Faramir had chosen her above all others, and she had thrown his love back in his face, betraying him not with a flesh and blood man, but with the dream of one. How inadequate must that have made the young man feel? How many more rejections could his little brother take before it broke him? How much love did he have left to give? Boromir had always admired Aragorn, but that would change should he ever discover that the heir to the throne had encouraged Éowyn in any way.

He blinked, pulling back from his reverie to frown at his sister who stood gossiping with the little mouse of a servant girl close by.

"He should be here soon," he went on absently, taking a second look at the wench, who actually looked quite presentable tonight in a decent dress for once. "I ordered him to attend on pain of death."

He drew his eyes from Éonan and grinned at Haldir, catching his sister's eye as he did so. The Elf was shooting a cool glance in the girls' direction.

"Don't you be getting any ideas about my sister, Elf," Boromir reprimanded with mock ferocity, "I'll not be having any Lórien savage as a brother."

He laughed at the look on Haldir's face, and looked back towards Elendur and the mouse. Perhaps he should make the girl's night and dance with her...

[Bogwoppit]

"I wish. If I could get one of them to look at me in that way at all we might just stand a chance to get outta this fuck-up but they are all either gay or I am in a worse state than I feel.

Fuck -- I reckon they're bringing us to that city there -- do we let them or try make a break for it while we're out in the wild? They've got all my weapons -- even my fucking cigarettes the bastards."

Lake tried to push himself up further as she spoke, wincing at the sudden sharp pain in his ribs. He couldn't help but utter a short laugh though as she passed her judgment on the sexuality of their captors, throwing her a sly look as she continued.

"Believe me, Barbie," he grinned, teeth shining surprisingly white through the dirt on his worn face, "even a smoke wouldn't help you pull, the state you're in. You look about as rough as I feel, and that's pretty fucking rough I can tell ya. Don't think they've been out here long enough to risk it."

Despite his piss-taking attitude, he was relieved that Thrace seemed to be none the worse for wear. It wasn't that he didn't like her, not really, it was just that she always seemed to manage to rub him up the wrong way, know just where to put the boot in. And unlike everyone else on base she didn't pussyfoot around his drinking problem. Lucky she didn't know much about the cause of it... he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep his fists to himself if she started taking the piss out of that life he would rather forget.

"I think we should wait and see where they're taking us," he continued, falling serious once more as he peered towards the rising city in the gloom. "We haven't actually done anything wrong, they might just be following orders. Plus West will be missing us by now. If we make a break for it we might lead these fuckers right to the others. At least if it's just us they've got we've got a chance of being rescued."

"Up!" The voice came from above, and Lake started, wincing again as he caught his side on the rough bark of the tree.

He looked up to see the leader of the group of men baring down on them, reaching out to drag Thrace to her feet.

"Leave her alone you fucker," he growled, pulling himself upright the best he could and shoving the man's hand away. "If you want us to move you only have to ask."

The group was gathering to leave, and soon set off once more towards the city, this time leading their horses and forcing Lake and Thrace to march in front of them at a brisk pace.

[Bogwoppit]

As they approached the city West found himself leaning his head back to try to see the top of the vast white towers above, but they were hidden from view, either by the rapidly falling darkness, or by their sheer size as they disappeared up into the cliff top, he couldn't be sure which. He, Kawalsky and DJ walked ahead with two of the Gondorian guards, while the girl, Eledhwen, walked behind leading her horse. The guards had not been threatening in any way, but West got the impression that should they try to leave their company they would not get very far.

He would have liked to see some of the city as they were ushered up through seemingly endless levels, and he could see DJ positively twitching to have a look at some of the architecture, but they had no chance to pause, and soon found themselves on a vast platform carved into the rock, hundreds of feet from the ground. A pale, twisted tree grew in the centre by a pool, almost dead at first glance, but on closer inspection bearing hoards of tiny buds, and a few blossoms on its outer limbs. Buildings rose all around, and it was to the biggest of these that the captain led them. Eledhwen's horse had to be practically prised from her hand, but eventually she allowed it to be led away, presumably to the stables, and the girl followed the others inside.

"Wait here," spoke the captain, and strode away through a different doorway while four or five other guards stood nearby.

West glanced at Kawalsky, then at DJ, and raised his eyebrows.

"Talkative bunch aren't they?" he smirked.

[Bogwoppit]

Sauron was bored. There wasn't really much you could do when you were just a great flaming eye. Sometimes he wished he could go down and walk among his Orcs, but then he would look at them down below, grubbing in the dirt, swearing and fighting and... urgh... all snotty and disgusting, and he was actually quite pleased that he didn't have to. Nope, best to leave that sort of thing, going among the great unwashed, to Mouth. Mouth didn't mind really, in fact Sauron secretly thought Mouth actually enjoyed it, riding round acting all the big I Am, and although Mouth swore he couldn't stand the taste of Orc flesh, more than once Sauron had spied on him when he caught one and was sucking its blood. The expression on Mouth's face... er... mouth, was nothing short of rapturous.

Anyway, yes, Sauron was bored. He had looked everywhere, even up as far as The Shire, and everyone knew how much he hated looking at those disgusting Halflings ~ nasty, happy creatures, always skipping about and singing... Sauron shuddered... well... the Eye quivered a bit, making him a bit dizzy. If only he could blink... bummer, now his eye was watering... oh... ggrrrrr!

If he had fingers he would drum them on the table in frustration, but... well, you get the picture.

He glanced round once more, wondering if it was worth sneaking into Arwen's bedroom for a peek... ooh, what was that? The Eye swung back towards Rohan, right at the very edge, where he saw some movement. He squinted a bit to see more clearly, making sure Mouth wasn't around. He hated it when Mouth took the piss out of his short-sightedness. What did he expect after hundreds of years just being an eye?

There it was again... sort of a swirling, shimmering round thing. He peered some more, sure he could make out the shape of some sort of circle... a stone circle...

Mouth! he thought/called, and moments later Mouth walked in, wiping fresh blood from his chin where it had dribbled down.



"Yes Master?" he sneered.

Look, what's that out there?

Mouth walked over to the window and pretended to look out. Honestly, how stupid was Sauron? After all these years wouldn't you think he would have realised that Mouth didn't have any eyes? If he'd have had them, which he didn't, he would have rolled them ceiling-wards at the idiocy of his master telling him to look.

I want you to ride out there and see what that thing is, thought Sauron at him. Take a few Orcs with you... don't eat them... and see if you can find out what it is and what it does. Whatever it is, break it. I don't want it here.

He sounded so sulky that Mouth couldn't suppress a grin.

What? thought Sauron.

"Nothing Master," Mouth replied smoothly. "I'll get right onto it."

He turned and walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle.

"Erm... Master...?" He turned, an innocent expression on his... mouth.

What? Sauron demanded impatiently.

"Can I take a few extra? Just in case I get hungry... it's quite a long way..."

Sauron sighed. Soon he wouldn't have any Orcs left. Pity Saruman had to go and get stabbed, he could have made some more of those sexy Uruk-Hai... Now there was a fighting machine to drool over...

Yes yes go on then! he thought/snapped.

Anything for a quiet life.

[Bogwoppit]

I was bored

[Pinkie]

Faramir felt awkward. Not because he was attending the festival with a common woman, but rather because he was attending it at all. Eowyn was cooped up somewhere in Rohan pining away for Isildur's heir while Faramir pined away for her. Except he knew he could not live that life. He had failed miserably in love all his life. The only love he had ever secured was the love of Boromir and of Mithrandir. The thoughts of the old wizard brought a sharp pang of regret to Faramir's already aching heart. He missed the wise old man. He knew that Mithrandir could have told him some means to bear the grief that so afflicted him now.

His velvety, brocaded jacket sat snug about his slim waist, hugging his moderately broad chest and flaring just beneath the belt that held it all together - falling low enough down his thighs to be decent but not so low that it covered the shape and form of the well muscled flesh.

Miriel said:

"Are you expected to circulate, my Lord? quite content to watch from here."

The steward's son lifted his fair eyebrows as he turned to give a gentle smile down at Miriel. He truly admired that she attended with him. He could see the toll it took on her shattered nerves. He was not blind to the tears that seemed to swell in her beautiful eyes. And yet she still looked strong - fragile but ... capable. Faramir took a deep breath and tucked his chin to his chest, looking about the room. His breath caught in his throat when his eyes fell on his father. The Steward of Gondor did not look pleased one bit.

He had failed him greatly when he could not keep the love of the Shieldmaiden of Rohan. Denethor had had great ideas and plans for the lands of Rohan - his grandson would be the heir to that land. But no more. For Captain Faramir had been unable to hold her love that had seemed so freely given such a short time ago.

"I would be more content to sit quietly and speak with you than circulate amongst those who do not know me -" he said, inclining his head in the opposite direction of Boromir and Haldir. Just as he spoke the words a loud clang and chime sounded. Faramir reached a hand down gently to Miriel's elbow and stood backwards slowly, looking as the dancefloor cleared - people morphed together from large gruops into couples, holding hands and then the music started.

A half smile appeared on the man's thin lips. He glanced down at Miriel, hopeful to see that she found some enjoyment in the easy pace of the music which he knew would eventually build into a speedy waltz before finally slowing to this easy step at the end. Without thinking the man took a deep breath, felt an inpenetrable stiffness to the muscles of his heart and stood around in front of Miriel. His blue eyes were hesitant in meetings hers but his hand moved down her forearm to take her hand.

"Would you dance with me?" he asked, one side of his face twitching in a flinch for fear of her rejection. Utterly unfair of him he knew - how could she say no to the Captain of Gondor stood in front of her when she knew the rejection he had already faced? Yet Faramir's gently asking made it an easy thing for Miriel to reject - in fact, he was flnching because he predicted her rejection. Oh it would not be a cruel thing from her - Faramir would understand if she did not wish to dance with him. But it would greatly please him to try and make her smile with some cheery dancing. It would also take the pressure of them bboth with regards to mingling with the crowd.