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Light Lingering  by Nol 9 Review(s)
FimbrethilReviewed Chapter: 2 on 6/29/2025
He was a mighty mariner now, in the league of the seafaring rulers of old. More, he had grown to love the sea with a consuming passion that, like most things about him, threatened to overwhelm him at times.

“I am,” he said, and even as he spoke, he turned his face south-west unconsciously, a familiar desire on his face. “The sea was kind last year, and the crew feels adventuresome.”

“As do you.”

“As do I.” He was smiling now, his face untanned and unlined by the relentless expeditions of past years. “We chalked out a new route last season, and the rumours between the Haradrim jewel-divers seem more and more hopeful about a couple of new pockets along it. I don’t want to miss the good winds. Besides,” he flung an amused eyebrow up, “how can Gondor resist the revenues from my little forays?”

”The Eastern campaign is barely over, Eldarion,” Faramir said. “You will be missed.”

“Well, they can sing the victory songs without me,” the younger man shrugged. “I, for one, will be most pleased to get away from it while I can. I doubt this truce among the Khand tribes will last long, Faramir. You know that. We will be forced to go and keep the peace with swords and spears once again. This is the second time I have had to cut short a trip to come back to Father’s banner.”

Faramir looked on him with sympathy. The impatience barely concealed the deeper, thornier feeling of disgust at bloodshed that he had never been wholly able to shake off. “But would you have left him alone, Eldarion?”

“Never,” he sighed wearily. “And I will not think of what might have happened on this battlefield, had I not been by his side. My father, cut off, surrounded by murderers – " he shuddered involuntarily.

“Thank the Valar you were at his back.”

“How do you know?”

“It is being sung of all over the kingdom, my boy. ‘One hundred/single-handed’, if the minstrels are to be believed.”

[Oh. My. Eldarion is a mighty mariner now, is he? I bet he had wonderful expeditions with Alphros. (Unless they didn’t because they are both heirs or not friendly enough, or something.)

FimbrethilReviewed Chapter: 1 on 6/29/2025
What about Eldarion?” Faramir interjected.

An uncharacteristic silence fell on the two boys. Elboron suddenly looked down into his plate. That was not good, the lord of Ithilien thought. The seventeen-year old heir to Gondor had only recently returned home from a long sojourn with his mother’s people – an eleven-year stay that seemed strange beyond words to everyone except, to all appearances, the young man’s parents. Faramir remembered the one brief meeting he had had with the prince in the week since his own arrival in the city. He remembered a small, brooding boy, hardly moving, not speaking at all, the wish that he might be elsewhere writ large on his pale little face.
Oh. And he is 17? I have never read where he was raised in Imladris like his fathers, before.


That is not so surprising,” Éowyn spoke. “I am told he does not – fight.”

So it was true, then, Faramir thought quickly. Elessar’s son did not know how to use a sword.
{What! He is Aragorn’s son, and not to mention half raised by his uncles and in Arnor, and he doesn’t fight!? I suppose that sounds good, but I meant with a sword.}

Faramir was listening, but barely. In his mind was another boy, silent and troubled, torn between a hatred of spilt blood and loud company and the compelling sense of duty that had driven him to learn to defend the land he loved.

Faramir for Gondor.

A sudden compassion, borne of understanding, filled him. Who were his son and that cheeky comrade-in-arms of his to condemn what they did not understand? Did Gondor not need men of peace, too? It was rude, nay, downright wrong, that a misunderstood child be thought ill of for having the courage not to fight. Yes, for that was true courage. That was nobility. That was truth.
{Ah I see. Perhaps you should not have named your son after your brother. Or not told as many heroic stories about him.}

In his left hand was a sword, and he was dancing.

That, or it was something else that Faramir had no words to describe. Thrust, parry, thrust, parry; strong, sure movements that could have been borne of nothing short of endless hours of practice. A graceful spin, a flick of his wrist, a quick sidestep. Suddenly, catlike, he slid down on to his haunches. A lock of hair fell into the over-large eyes. Without missing a beat, he sent the sword into the air, brushed the offending locks away, and leaned out to catch the falling blade in his right hand. Up. Thrust, parry. He was smiling as he whirled faster and faster in his dance, to a rhythm Faramir could hear just by looking at the patterns of his feet on the dusty floor, until he almost blurred against the light, a dark little flame of grey and black amid the sunlit storm of dust he was disturbing.
[Ah. Of course he can fight. I should have known. And left handed, too. (I am left handed.] I suppose he held back for fear Elboron and the others wouldn’t be able to keep up with his Elvish training.]
I just thought. : “Thank you for not killing my son.” And the others.
Ah Celeborn! And awww, the fact Eldarion forgot Faramir’s grandfather. And of course it was his other grandfather, for Ecthelion died when he was like 1.
Faramir was not a vain man – far from it – but he had never yet met a seventeen-year-old who did not know his grandfather’s name off-hand. [heeeheee. But which one? E. I suppose.]

War must be,” he said gently, “even for those who love not the sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. We love only that which we defend. [Awww, this is, as we know, a great line.]

Only every now and then,” Faramir said with a straight face. It was little known that Aragorn’s grasp of Adûnaic was somewhat rudimentary, but it was more or less public knowledge that Faramir’s was anything but.
heehee.

(Sorry this is rather long, but it does include quotes)

phyloxenaReviewed Chapter: 2 on 5/23/2007
Just discovered this story, raking in SoA archive. I never yet read anything remotely as interesting about Eldarion. Too often he is just a heir, second, a sign of future decline. And mentor Faramir was great.

AcaceaReviewed Chapter: 2 on 3/7/2004
I had to tell you again how much I love this:) It's perfect and it's beautiful and one of the best gifts I could ask for. Thank you!

Author Reply: You're more than welcome, darling. You guys bring out the best, I guess. I think. :) Nothing but a pleasure, really.

ShirelingReviewed Chapter: 2 on 3/6/2004
What a wonderful glimpse at a special relationship.
Faramir would have made an amazing mentor for someone who shared his temperament and his interests.


Author Reply: Thank you! Yes, he does seem like a wonderful father figure. So glad you liked that. :)


LindorienReviewed Chapter: 1 on 3/6/2004
It's about time you posted this here, Nol! A fine fic. A truly fine fic. I also really like the detail of the sword dancing. And I like that Elboron is a little ignoble and not perfect. I like that everybody is not perfect.

not perfect is good. I should know - I'm an expert on the matter.

hugs, Lindorien

Author Reply: Thanks, Lindorien! Yes, not perfect is good. Unless one is an elf. Which we are not. Phewzie.

hugs right back, Nol.

SphinxReviewed Chapter: 2 on 3/6/2004
Good to see this here. :)

One of the ending paragraphs really hit me this time round - where Faramir says Eldarion brings hope out of the sea. Brought this whole thing into context, somehow. My own Eldarion isnt like yours, and will never be, yet I cannot help but admire yours for this air he has about him.

I echo what is said by daw. He's a great character.

Author Reply: And I will echo what I said to daw and say - thank you. That means a whole lot to me. :)

French PonyReviewed Chapter: 2 on 3/6/2004
This was a very nice story. You captured the alien-ness of Eldarion very well -- his half-Elf physicality, and his definitely foreign upbringing. He made for an interesting character as he found his own place in the world. It is not surprising that it would be at sea; that has been a favorite calling of many a prince, both of Númenor and of our modern Earth. You also worked well with Faramir and his visionary, prophetic nature.

There were some little things about the story that stood out as being odd. The first is the idea that there would be a section in the library for "the great dramatists." That struck me as just a little strange, because it seems that the one artistic tradition that Tolkien's world does not possess is one of performing drama. They're big on epic poetry, and there seems to be much dancing, but you never hear of anyone acting a play. On the other hand, there is so much of the history of Men that is Not Filled In, and it is conceivable that Gondorian playwrights might have arisen during the years of the Stewards. It's a fun thing to think about, certainly.

The other somewhat odd thing is the sword dance. I know of a few different kinds of traditional sword dances, and this one is unlike any of them (and therefore fascinating). The English have a group sword dance where the dancers are linked by swords and perform complicated figures. The Scots cross two swords on the ground and dance over them. Arab women occasionally use swords as props while belly dancing. All of those dances are clearly separated from actual military use of the sword, though. There is no question that one is performance and the other is warfare. The dance you describe appears to have most in common with the Arabic tradition. I'd love to know what elements went into the creation of your Elvish dance, because it sounds quite elegant, if completely impractical.

Author Reply: Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it, and happier for the detailed review.

The oddnesses: first, I do believe that Men could have developed a dramatic tradition, particularly in the later years of Numenor, continuing through in Gondor. It is rather a good thing to mull over - I'm still waiting for soemone to tell that classic tale of star-crossed lovers in Armenelos - she Faithful, he a King's Man: "Angor, Angor, wherefore art thou, Angor?"

The sword dance, as I said, is borrowed from Celebdil, the Keeper of All Sword Stories (read: Spirit of a Sword). In her story, the dance was actually a duel that involved highly stylised movements and required the contestants to have perfect timing and sense of proportion to be successful, not only as a contest, but also as an aesthetic exhibition of skills.

I find it fairly plausible that the elves would aestheticize even the most mundane, or necessarily ugly activities, given their passion for beauty. As to how it can be used to kill - I'll ask Celeb for details and get back to you - but I can see how their practice and training in these moves would stand them in good stead in a tight spot, couldn't you?

I hope that answers your questions to some extent - do let me know. Thank you, again!

daw the minstrelReviewed Chapter: 2 on 3/6/2004
I read this wonderful story on ff.net and am happy to see it here. Your characterizations are so vivid, and your Eldarion is a lovely, awkward, complex character who grows up into someone his father would be justly proud of.

Author Reply: Thanks again, daw. So glad you liked it. Particularly Eldarion. That means a lot. :) Cheerio!

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