Disclaimer: All the settings and characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. This story is my way of working out or interpreting ideas and concepts already present in The Lord of the Rings. This is done for enjoyment, and for sharing, but not for profit.

Chapter 11: The Friendship of Men

A birthday drabble for Baranduin. (Written December 2004)

Eyes

Faramir looked into the clear, calm eyes and felt once more the thrill of recognition. In dreams, those eyes had gazed at him -- with resolve, then resignation, and finally, brokenly, in anguish.

He will not have the strength to do this task -- I have foreseen it. Yet his strength is greater than that of men -- to bear Evil, unflinching, and to pass into the dread vale yonder? Already I fall lower in the test than Frodo, son of Drogo.

Faramir knelt and kissed the halfling's brow.

"Fare you well, while you may."

But long after, those eyes haunted him still.

Belegcuthalion asked for a drabble that featured Aragorn and Frodo for her birthday. (Written March 2005)

Parting

They sat apart from the company. The wind bent the tawny grasses around them in a whistling murmur that never ceased.

"You were a friend unlooked for in the wilderness," Frodo said. "It grieves me that this is our last day together."

"I will visit the north," said Aragorn.

Frodo's fingers sought the gem of the Evenstar.

"When would you come?"

Aragorn smiled wistfully, sadly. "Not for some time, I fear."

Frodo's hand dropped to his lap.

"I will look forward to it."

* * *

But the grey company dwindled in the distance; the great green stone flashed. And the wind keened.