F - like a fearful Faramir.
2. Fear - by Dwimordene
Orcs. Easterlings. Haradrim. Spy birds and creatures whose eyes glint at night, watching him and his men. One grows used to such. One forgets oftentimes that life had not always been anxious. One grows
used to everything. Anxiety becomes a familiar. It lives in the gut and in the blood, lies smooth beneath the skin, thrumming there like a lover. Anxiety pricked sharp by war strikes men sometimes so, and laundry after battles is subject to bawdy jests.
But inevitably, there comes a break with the expected lot of life: anticipation cannot tame all, and the present comes crashing in sometimes, even often, to upset it. The familiar recovers its frightful malevolence.
The air trembles over misty fields: a long, deep note sounds, staining the silence, again and again. Faramir stiffens, his face whitening. Boromir?
But `tis gone. Dread descends in its wake—fear has got free, as the future tips out into a void…
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.