Sorry for taking so long to post this, but I wanted to have it just right.

Ch 12 Facing the past

Faramir felt the warmth of Anor as he opened his eyes. Looking around, he saw a meadow in the full bloom of midsummer. The grass was the greenest he had ever seen. The sky was blue, with white puffy clouds. He smiled as he remembered the times he and Boromir had lain on the Pelennor Fields, looking up and seeing shapes in the clouds. For some reason, Boromir always saw horses in these types of clouds.

In the distance, he could see the rays of Anor sparkling on what appeared to be either a river or perhaps a small lake. He decided to do some exploring, to see this new land. He got to his feet and stood, searching for…what?

He had a vague feeling there was something he should be doing, but he could not remember what. He noticed, in the distance, a small grove of trees. Without conscious thought, he started forward.

As he neared, he saw a figure, dressed in a gown of many hues. She had a basket at her feet, with skeins of colored yarn. In front of her was a loom with a tapestry. Faramir could see figures on the tapestry; so lifelike he expected them to move.

She looked up as he approached. Warmly, she said “Greetings, Lord Faramir. I bid thee welcome. Sit, and rest.” Her voice was soft, yet commanding.

Faramir bowed, saying, “I thank thee for thy most warm welcome, My Lady.” He sat on the cushion that was indicated.

He had the unsettling feeling he should know the Lady. Suddenly it came to him - Vairë. She who was mate to Námo, or Mandos, of the Halls of Waiting. She was the Weaver of the Tapestry of Life. He bowed his head, waiting….

“Son of Númenor, watch, and remember.” Faramir watched as the tapestry unrolled in front of him. He gazed, seeing Finduilas handing Denethor an infant. Beside the bed was a young child. He realized it was his birth he was seeing. The young child was Boromir. “I had forgotten how beautiful my mother was,” he whispered. Faramir could sense the happiness of the young family.

Faramir’s heart ached as he watched as the tapestry showed the death of his mother. He saw his father put his cloak around the shoulders of his sons as they followed the funeral procession. “I had forgotten he shielded us from the stares of the people of Minas Tirith,” he murmured.

He watched as scenes of his life unfolded. His first days as squire; swearing his oath of fealty to his father as Steward; his entrance into the military as a cadet; learning to use the sword and longbow. A newly minted Captain of the Ithilien Rangers, as Denethor and Boromir personally endowed Faramir with the uniform of a Ranger of Gondor. As he watched the scene move by, Faramir sensed his father’s pride as the steward presented his second son as a candidate for commissioning as an officer..

For the second time came “Son of Númenor, Watch, and remember.” Now the tapestry seemed to move quicker. He saw his Rangers setting ambushes, fighting Orcs, Easterlings and other agents of Sauron. He saw himself in counsel with his father and brother, trying to hold back the blackness of Mordor. Here was his dream of the destruction of Númenor, with its green wave of water overpowering all.

Again, the tapestry moved. He was in Osgiliath, fighting alongside Boromir. He relived the breaking of the bridge and the rescue of his brother. Now came the dream of Imladris, the Sword That was Broken, and of Isildur’s Bane. He watched as Boromir was given the task of seeking the elven haven. He bowed his head, tears falling as he saw his beloved brother riding away from Minas Tirith, never to be seen in the White City.

“Watch and remember,” came the command for the third time. The scene changed to Ithilien. Now came the ambush of the Easterlings. He shuddered as he saw the Mûmak being brought down.

He smiled as he again saw the sun setting behind the Window of the West with its cataract turning to silver and gold. Damrod, Marblung, and the rest of his Rangers - all were there.

His breath caught as he again saw Frodo and Sam as they were brought before him. Again he murmured the words he had spoken to the two haflings. . “But fear no more! I would not take this thing, if it lay by the highway. Not were Minas Tirith falling in ruin and I alone could save her, so, using the weapon of the Dark Lord for her good and my glory. No, I do not wish for such triumphs, Frodo son of Drogo.”*

Now it was night as he and Frodo, along with Anborn stood watching as a small black figure dove into the Forbidden Pool. He watched as the tapestry showed him questioning Gollum.

Now came the time of parting from the two hobbits. Again the tapestry moved through time, showing him scenes of battles waged between his Rangers and the minions of Sauron.

Suddenly, a chill wind seemed to blow as he saw Osgiliath come into view. He shuddered as memories tore at him. Vairë saw his distress and came to him. “Close your eyes, Steward, and rest. All is well.”

Faramir nodded, not trusting his voice. He did as he was bid, knowing he would still have to face the past.

*The Two Towers, Ch V, The Window on the West