4. True Love
Faramir sighed, looking north. It had been several hours since Éowyn had left and he still could not bear to leave the City gate. How could he have fallen so deeply in love in such a short time? He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground, surrounded by hobbits. Sam rested a hand on his shoulder.
“You’ll see her again soon, Faramir. We all will.”
“I know, Sam.” Faramir looked into his friend’s bright face, optimism and strength shining out of him. He could well see how such a companion could be the one person destined to walk with Frodo into the Shadow and return. “Have you ever felt such…….. I mean, is there someone you………” Faramir sighed again.
Sam looked at his feet. “Aye, there is, sir, although I doubt she knows it.”
“If not, she’s the only one who doesn’t!” Frodo laughed.
“I just miss her already,” said Faramir. “I don’t feel so alone when she’s around.”
“You have us!” Pippin smiled at him and scrunched down at the Man’s feet.
“Hmmm.” Faramir reached down and tousled Pippin’s hair, a gesture Pippin now tolerated from very few people.
“We know you’re feeling alone, Faramir. We’re so sorry about your father,” Frodo said. “I’ve been an orphan for a long time, it’s just the worst, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Frodo, just the worst,” said Faramir. Pippin looked away; he never liked it when the conversation turned to Denethor.
“This is getting too gloomy,” said Merry. “Let’s get back to Sam’s problem, shall we?”
“What problem?” Faramir grinned, glad to be distracted. “It this lass didn’t love him already, which is hard to believe, Sam will return home famous and no doubt gifted richly for what he has done. How could she resist him?”
Sam blushed. “I hardly think----”
“Brave Baggins!” said Pippin suddenly.
“Ohhh,” Frodo groaned. “Not again.”
Faramir chuckled. “Are you still trying to find a title for him, Peregrin?”
“Yes,” said Pippin. “I mean, ‘Frodo of the Nine Fingers’ is pretty grim, and ‘Ring-bearer’ isn’t exactly accurate anymore, and-----”
“Faramir,” asked Frodo, “Did you ever get that dungeon built?”
“Frodo the Ferocious,” said Merry.
Frodo sighed. “At least my loyal Sam, my dearest friend, isn’t trying to come up with any----”
“Defeater of the Darkness,” Sam suggested with an innocent look.
Frodo slumped to the ground, moaning. “Just kill me now, Faramir. I’m sorry I won’t be able to come to your wedding. Tell Aragorn I know he’ll make a great king.” He gasped. “Tell….. tell Gandalf……..” He rolled over on his back, pretended to breathe his last, then lay still.
Faramir stuck his booted foot out, nudging Frodo a bit.
“A shame,” he said, shaking his head. “So young, so full of promise.”
“So lacking in a title,” said Merry.
“A hero’s burial!” cried Pippin, kneeling to fold Frodo’s hands on his breast. “We must honor our fallen comrade!”
“Whatever is going on here?”
The hobbits looked up to see Legolas and Gimli standing just within the gate, staring down at Frodo.
“He’s succumbed at last, Legolas,” said Merry solemnly. “Too many banquets.”
“Has he?” Legolas smiled and squatted down next to Pippin. “That seems an unlikely cause of death for any hobbit.” He ran his finger lightly across Frodo’s middle, elicitiing a convulsive giggle from the dead hero.
“Still a bit of life left in him yet,” said Gimli gruffly. “Perhaps tonight’s dinner will be the one to do him in.”
“Perhaps it will kindly do them *all* in, my good Dwarf,” said Faramir with a grin. He stood up and brushed himself off. “I must see to my duties. As must you, Peregrin.”
Pippin sighed and followed Faramir back towards the City.
Frodo opened one eye and looked up at Merry. “Well?”
“That was brilliant, Frodo,” said Merry, helping him up. “At least he forgot to pine away for her for a few minutes, anyhow.”
“We should think of something else,” said Sam. “Something really distracting.”
Legolas rose to his feet. “As usual,” he said to Gimli, “I have no idea what they’re talking about.”
Gimli’s eyes twinkled. “I suspect that hobbits have their own language, as we do, my friend. Perhaps it would be unwise to delve too deeply into it.”
Frodo was eyeing Sam. “What are you looking at me like that for, Sam?”
“I *like* Brave Baggins, sir. I think it sounds----”
“…….as good as Gamgee the Great?”
Sam paled visibly. “Mr. Frodo, you wouldn’t!”
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.