Brania of Lorien
Dúnedain of the South
Wanderer Healer
Myrddin Dark Elf Elven Assassin
Posts: 84
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Post by Brania of Lorien on Mar 5, 2007 1:24:38 GMT
She couldn't sleep. Brania had been lying in her bed at the inn staring at the ceiling for several hours now. She had been trying to regain the calm that she always found so easy to get in the Woods of Lothlorien, but it was fleeting, moving beyond her grasp. Faramir was here. He was here! Her brother, whom she had dreamed about for years, wanting to know that he was alive and well, that Denethor hadn't crushed his spirit they way he had almost done with her. She didn't know what she would have done if she had stayed in the White Tower. She had dreamed of bringing him and Boromir to Caras Galadhon and they could all be happy and free of everything. In part her dream had come true, Boromir had come to Lorien, though only for a time.
Brania sighed and got up. She wasn't going to sleep and there was no way she could stay here any longer. What if he came back? She would be so tempted to blurt out who she was and beg him not to be mad at her. She hadn't unpacked much and it took Rana only a few moments to gather the few things that had been pulled out of her pack. Grey Elven cloak went around her shoulders, swords and knives in their places, quiver on her back. Silently Brania decended the stairs and left money and a note to the innkeeper than she had gone and not to worry. If the coins didn't cover her bill, she would pay the rest when she returned. The moon was out tonight as she made her way over to the stables and quietly got her mare ready for a trip. She had trained her mount as the Elves did, with the help of her Elvish brothers, so the white mare took neither briddle or saddle. She carried everything on her, or in bags that slung over the back of the horse.
Hoofbeats sounded on the cobblestones, but that couldn't be helped. She wasn't really trying to sneak out, after all. It wouldn't take her long to get to the gates and out of the city. Rana pulled her hood up as she approached the gate. The soldier motioned for her to slow and then asked her business. As she began to explain that she had urgent business elsewhere she heard the sound of another set of hooves coming her way. Continuing to explain, she shifted slightly to be prepared to fight if needed. One could never be too careful, after all.
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Lord Faramir
Administrator
D?nedain of the South Lord of Emyn Arnen Steward of Gondor
In Desperate Hours Gentleness May be Repaid with Death....... So Be It
Posts: 241
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Post by Lord Faramir on Mar 5, 2007 1:47:41 GMT
Faramir had left the small inn and made his way back up to the keep of Minas Ithil. He bid the guards to make ready his horse as he continued on to his personal quarters. His things were strewn about the room, he had asked the maid not to touch anything, save for making the bed and sweeping the floor. Upon a large desk in the corner there was a pile of maps with random marks and jottings and numbers, referring to the forces of Gondor and where the currently were. He placed the smallest of the maps into his knapsack, which was prepared to be slug over the horse. He completed his packing in record time, and exited the room while fixing the belt that held the scabbard within which was the sword the Eowyn had crafted the day before.
He thanked the guard, while taking the reins from him and throwing the knap sack over the horses back. He put one of his feet into the stirrup before jumping up onto the saddle and urging the Horse onwards. He was granted passage through the many gates until he reached the front one. He was riding hard and fast now. The crest of the White Tree could easily be seen on his chest. The guard was talking to the woman he had seen in the inn. Faramir slowed a little and told the guard to permit her leave of the city.
'Ride hard, Bere,' Faramir spoke to his horse, who threw his head up and sped off out of the gates of the city.
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Brania of Lorien
Dúnedain of the South
Wanderer Healer
Myrddin Dark Elf Elven Assassin
Posts: 84
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Post by Brania of Lorien on Mar 5, 2007 2:03:41 GMT
She turned in her seat as the other rider approached them. He or she slowed down and she realized it was her brother. He spoke to the guard, telling him to let her pass. Before she could think to thank him or what she should say to him, he had kneed his horse through the gate and out onto the night. Her mind was still swirling with doubt about what, if anything, she should do about her brother. Part of her wanted to call out to him, to chase him down and make him listen and sob out a confession. Part of her wanted to retreat to Lothlorien and never again venture into the world of Men. Part of her wanted to ride hard for Minas Tirith and confront the King and see if Faramir told the turth and he was Strider, the only one from the World of Men she had learned to trust since leaving her brith city.
Vanya, her mare, apparently needed no more invitation and since her mistress had given no other instructions set out to chase down the other horse. While Rana was lost in her own emotions, the mare decided to not let the stallion get the better of her. Brania, moving on instinct, crouched low over Vanya's neck as she flew across the landscape. The land was dark and silent, save for the sound of two horses pounding across the dirt.
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Lord Faramir
Administrator
D?nedain of the South Lord of Emyn Arnen Steward of Gondor
In Desperate Hours Gentleness May be Repaid with Death....... So Be It
Posts: 241
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Post by Lord Faramir on Mar 5, 2007 2:10:51 GMT
The road was less of a road and more of a track used by very few people. Anyone who travelled too and from Minas Ithil went via the Crossroads far to the west. Faramir, however, knew this land like no other. Bere the Mearas needed little instruction on moving through the dense forest. They continued for a good twenty minuets, the entire time Faramir was aware that there was someone behind him, riding hard to try and keep up. He stroked Bere's long, silver neck and whispered a few choice words to the horse. If anyone believed that the horse had been moving fast before, it sped off with renewed vigor.
Soon, however the forest became too dense for such fast riding. Faramir guided Bere south for a little while until he reached a pathway that had been purposely cut through the wood. The Steward of Gondor was utterly against the needless lumbering of trees, this however had been needed. It was used by the Rangers and White company often and was known only to them, and a few others who had stumbled across it.
Faramir rode hard for the next number of hours before briefly allowing Bere to rest, much to the horses annoyance. After he mounted once more, there was only the final leg to Emyen Arnen left. He would arrive before the sun rose over Minas Tirith.
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Brania of Lorien
Dúnedain of the South
Wanderer Healer
Myrddin Dark Elf Elven Assassin
Posts: 84
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Post by Brania of Lorien on Mar 6, 2007 1:27:26 GMT
It wasn't too long before Brania realized that she was not at all paying attention to where she was riding to. Vanya had apprently decided a direction all her own and was racing at top speeds after her intended goal. Was that hoofbeats she heard in the distance, ahead of them? Had Vanya followed Faramir out into the night? Granted her mare was Elvish trained, and sometimes Rana thought the horse was smarter than the average creature, but there was no way that the beast had picked up on her mistress' desire to chase after her brother. No, more than likely Vanya had decided she wanted to race and had picked Faramir's horse as a racing partner. Odd, usually she was able to keep up with any normal horse, even a warhorse. Perhaps since she didn't know the terrain as well, it had forced her to slow down to pick her way.
Rana signaled Vanya into a not as break-neck a speed. She was really in no rush any more. The reason she had left when she had was to try to get out without seeing her brother. Well, she had seen him and that had stirred up all of her mixed emotions all over again. But he was far ahead now and there was no point in Vanya breaking a leg or her neck. The mare protested the change in gait, but obeyed. The hoofbeats ahead of them faded. "Goodbye, Faramir," she said softly. "Be safe, my brother."
They rode for hours in silence. They came across a wooded area and Rana had to dismount for a time to find the barely used track through the trees. Work of the Rangers most likely. Strider Another thing she didn't want to think about. The line of trees broke as the sun was just peeking over the hills. Below her, off in the distance some, she could see a town. Emyen Arnen, if her mental map was right. She could see troops had been stationed there. It looked as if they were getting ready to break camp. Was Faramir down there? A very soft noise interupted her thoughts and she pulled her cloak around her. Two soldiers approached her horse and looked around for the owner. Men....wonderful. Rana stepped forward and spoke in Elvish. "Greetings Mortals." She was mortal too, but still...sometimes she felt more like she belonged with the Eldar then when Men. Rangers...that was clear as soon as she got a good look at them.
She didn't move as they drew their blades and demanded to know her business. "I am a simply wanderer and am passing through from Minas Ithil." Rana wasn't surprised as they insisted that she come with them and all-but dragged her at sword point down towards the camp. They took her weapons, but she forced herself to stay calm since they showed her Elvish blade with respect. Soon Brania was walking between the two Rangers through the main road of the camp. One lead her horse and the other carried her weapons. They reached the largest tent and one went inside. Rana guessed that she would be seeing her brother again, since he was supposed to be here to gather his troops. Apparently Eru wasn't going to let her ignore this brother any more than the Lady Galadriel would let her ignore Boromir when he came into Lorien.
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Lord Faramir
Administrator
D?nedain of the South Lord of Emyn Arnen Steward of Gondor
In Desperate Hours Gentleness May be Repaid with Death....... So Be It
Posts: 241
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Post by Lord Faramir on Mar 6, 2007 1:44:37 GMT
Faramir had completed his journey in record time. Bere, as always, surprised him each time they rode together. He had dismounted and removed all of his baggage from the horse, before allowing to to go free, he would know when Faramir called for him. The Steward was immediatley bombarded with reports from the front lines. Beregond, Captain of the White Company, Faramir's Personal Guard, was delivering them. It appeared that things faired well, for now, Racine's forces had crumbled and retreated under the counter-attack by the Rangers.
But still, here he was scraping all the men that he could together. They were all Dúnedain of the South, one could tell just by how the held themselves. Many of them were well into their eighties but the strong bloodline from which they were born granted them life longer than that of your normal man. Faramir drew his sword and handed it to his aide, who rushed it off the the smithy to be sharpened. Beregond had finished giving his reports and Faramir was busy thinking things through. Hopefully they would have enough men to patrol the southern borders.
He bid Beregond farewell, instructing him to prepare to ride out to Minas Tirith. It was then that he was approached by one of the senties. The man spoke softly in a Númenórean variant of the Elven Language Sindarin. Faramir asked him to bring the person to his tent. He was surprised to find that it was Rana, the girl from the inn at Minas Ithil. Faramir took the weapons from the sentry and placed them on the table to one side.
'Apologies, lady,' He said. 'But due to recent events security has been tightened, especially since we are mustering in this area. You must forgive Rathron and Damrod if they were a little rougher than usual.'
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Brania of Lorien
Dúnedain of the South
Wanderer Healer
Myrddin Dark Elf Elven Assassin
Posts: 84
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Post by Brania of Lorien on Mar 6, 2007 4:25:43 GMT
She stood calmly outside the tent. It was something Rumil had taught her. Things would happen when they did, and nervous movement only wasted energy. It would not alter events, nor bring them any sooner or later than they would come. One of the Rangers had disppeared into the tent with her weapons and she had to fight off the desire to chase after him and get them back. They were precious to her, gifts from her adoptive family. They had been made for her. It was like loosing a piece of her heart. Never-the-less, she stayed where she was and waited. Rana forced herself to take a deep, silent breath and let her emotions settle back down where they belonged. It wasn't long before she was escorted inside the tent.
Her eyes instantly travelled to her brother, standing in the middle of the tent. He was clearly the commander. It was evident in the way he held himself as well as the way the men around him defered to him. He held her weapons in his hands, which he then set on a side table. Brania itched to go get them. She realized she was deep within a camp full of Men, Men of Gondor...well, at least some of them werre Rangers and were better, but still. 'Apologies, lady,' He said. 'But due to recent events security has been tightened, especially since we are mustering in this area. You must forgive Rathron and Damrod if they were a little rougher than usual.'
No, they hadn't been rough. Firm, yes...brisk, yes...but not rough. She shook her head. "No, apologies needed, Heruamin*. I understand the situation very well. I intend only to cross the river and head north toward Lothlorien and home. If you insist, I will accept an escort to the river. Surely a simple wanderer is of no concern."
* Heruamin=My lord (familiar)- and yes, I did that 'slip of her tongue' on purpose
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Lord Faramir
Administrator
D?nedain of the South Lord of Emyn Arnen Steward of Gondor
In Desperate Hours Gentleness May be Repaid with Death....... So Be It
Posts: 241
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Post by Lord Faramir on Mar 10, 2007 20:32:09 GMT
Faramir smiled as he walked across the tent to the opposite side. There were a number of seats arranged in a circle there. A short number of hours previously, Faramir and his three Captains had been seated there speaking Sindarin in very hushed tones. He waved his hand in the direction of the weapons that were laid on the table at the side of the tent. 'You can take your weapons. I believe that there is very little danger of you attempting to take my life, although Damrod thoroughly disagrees. He is more than a little bit paranoid I must admit.'
He took a seat and leaned back in his chair. He wore a bemused look on his face as she spoke to him. 'Indeed? Well I apologies on their behalf anyway.'
'In times like these many people are a threat. I, however have no man to spare to escort you, and no man or woman may be granted passage through Gondor without leave of King Elessar. You shall travel with me to Minas Tirith and there we shall find someone to escort you if the King allows it so.'
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Brania of Lorien
Dúnedain of the South
Wanderer Healer
Myrddin Dark Elf Elven Assassin
Posts: 84
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Post by Brania of Lorien on Mar 10, 2007 23:15:00 GMT
As soon as he said she could take back her weapons, she was moving across the tent towards the table to claim her precious gifts. His words registered with her as she was buckling the sword and sheath into place. She? A threat to Faramir's life? That was laughable. She was his sister, though he didn't know that. She would still die in his place, if needed, throw herself onto a sword or take an arrow. As much as she was afraid that he had turned out like their father, she couldn't help but love him dearly...if for no other reason than the boy and young man he used to be. Turning to look at him and the other Rangers, she smiled. "Then perhaps you will allow me to put their minds at ease, at least a little. Damrod, I was trained by the Elves of Lothlorien in the craft of blade and bow. That training also came with the honor and respect for all life."
Now she paused and considered her next words. "And though my family no longer claims me, I was born and raised for years in Minas Tirith. I could never harm a member of the Stewards family any more than I could allow anyone to say any insult to the King." 'In times like these many people are a threat. I, however have no man to spare to escort you, and no man or woman may be granted passage through Gondor without leave of King Elessar. You shall travel with me to Minas Tirith and there we shall find someone to escort you if the King allows it so.'
She looked at Faramir and nodded with a slightly resigned look in her eyes. "As you will...In that case, I would perfer to keep myself useful. If you have need of a healer...or another body to stand guard, I would be happy to oblige."
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Lord Faramir
Administrator
D?nedain of the South Lord of Emyn Arnen Steward of Gondor
In Desperate Hours Gentleness May be Repaid with Death....... So Be It
Posts: 241
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Post by Lord Faramir on Mar 10, 2007 23:30:51 GMT
Faramir smiled gently, adjusting the sword that was buckled to his waist. He raised a hand in Damrod's direction, the man nodded and then bowed politley before leaving the tent. 'There is very little that will put Damrod's mind at rest. He is my personal guard, assigned by Beregond, who is the Captain of the White Company and my second. It would be a failure on his part if something were to happen to me and, I think, Beregond would never forgive him.' Faramir reached round to his his left hip and began unbuckling the leather jerkin he wore. The steward pulled it over his head and placed it, lightly, on the table.
Underneath, he was wearing a black cloth shirt that had the White Tree embroidered neatly upon the front. He removed his wrist guards and placed those too on the table. 'These belonged to my brother and were gifted onto me by the King Elessar, who wore them during the war of the ring. If, as you say, you were brought up in Minas Tirith, you would know of Boromir, Captain of the White Tower.'
Faramir had removed his fighting gear and stood now in the middle of the room. 'And so it shall be. Though it is not upon me to place you amongst the White Company. That honor is given to Beregond. A runner shall be sent to fetch him.' And Faramir spoke gently to one of the guards standing outside the tent.
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Brania of Lorien
Dúnedain of the South
Wanderer Healer
Myrddin Dark Elf Elven Assassin
Posts: 84
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Post by Brania of Lorien on Mar 11, 2007 0:06:05 GMT
These belonged to my brother and were gifted onto me by the King Elessar, who wore them during the war of the ring. If, as you say, you were brought up in Minas Tirith, you would know of Boromir, Captain of the White Tower.'
If you were brought up in Minas Tirith...She wanted to shout at him that she had grown up down the hall from him, that they had eaten at the same table and chased each other all around the keep...then ganged up on Boromir to dunk him in the pool. It had taken both of them to get their much bigger brother, even as children. Even though, logically, she knew that there was no way for him to know that she really had grown up where she claimed, it hurt to the core that he didn't believe her. Boromir...Eru, how she missed him. To have finally been reunited with him for those months in Lothlorien while the Fellowship had rested after the grief of the Fall of Gandalf. It had been bliss and she had so wanted to follow him out of the wood, no matter the danger.
She nodded absently to Faramir and turned her face away as a tear slid silently down her cheek. Boromir...who had spent day upon day telling her all about the man standing in front of her. Telling her how good he was, gentle, kind, a very capable leader, wise and sure. She knew that Rumil and the brothers would tell her to talk to her brother, to claim the identity she had left all those years ago. She would always still be Rana to them. That would never change. Suddenly she felt a kinship with Strider that she hadn't before. He would always be Strider...but his true self kept calling him out until he claimed it again...just as hers was. It was no chance that she had met her brother out of the blue, nor that he path kept following his. Another tear slid down her face.
"Faramir..." she whispered, "I cannot deny it any longer. Boromir made me promise to come back and I have tried for years to ignore that promise...but I cannot any longer." She reached under her shirt and pulled out a thin chain. On it were a ring that had belonged to their mother and a jeweled pendent of the Elves. "The Elves of Lorien named me Rana.....but I was not born such." She looked up at him, pleading in her eyes. "Do I not look at all familiar......brother?"
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Lord Faramir
Administrator
D?nedain of the South Lord of Emyn Arnen Steward of Gondor
In Desperate Hours Gentleness May be Repaid with Death....... So Be It
Posts: 241
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Post by Lord Faramir on Mar 11, 2007 2:14:51 GMT
Faramir stood stock still in the middle of the room. His body was facing Brania head on, but his eyes were averted from her, staring at the canvas of the tent that was behind her. There was a benign smile upon his face, even as she spoke the words that he had almost been dreading. It was true, she looked more than familiar and backed with the information he had recieved from Aragorn, there was very little argument in it. This person standing in front of him is Brania, of the House of Stewards.
There had been many talks amongst the high commanders of Gondor and even more so between the King and the Steward. One such conversation had been about Boromir. Aragorn had passed on his brothers final wishes.
'Aragorn Strider has long since given me information of you,' Faramir said, still not looking into her eyes. 'He told me of Boromir's parting wish, that I should seek you in Lothlorien and bring you to Minas Tirith, and there you would take up your place in the House of Stewards at my side.' There was a lengthy pause during which Faramir's gaze turned to his sister's face. 'Though for all the trials that have been set before me, I found this the hardest and I'm afraid that I had to deny Boromir's wishes and remain within my own borders, for fear of the resentment that I would find residing amongst the elves.'
And it was then that Beregond arrived in the tent. Faramir turned to him and said, 'This is Lady Brania. She is to be dressed in the Colours and Insignia of the House of Stewards by my command.' And he turned to Brania. 'Perhaps it is time his wish was granted.'
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Brania of Lorien
Dúnedain of the South
Wanderer Healer
Myrddin Dark Elf Elven Assassin
Posts: 84
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Post by Brania of Lorien on Mar 11, 2007 2:29:48 GMT
He was not mad. There was no yelling, no fury, no throwing her out. There was not even disbelief. She didn't know what she felt about Strider telling Faramir that she was alive...but if it had been Boromir's final wishes, she couldn't really deny Strider the right to fulfill those. To do so would have been unduely cruel to her friend, and that she could not do. It took him a little while to meet her eyes and when he did, she couldn't help a small, hesitant smile coming to her lips. Her brother wasn't mad at her. 'Though for all the trials that have been set before me, I found this the hardest and I'm afraid that I had to deny Boromir's wishes and remain within my own borders, for fear of the resentment that I would find residing amongst the elves.'
Brania took a step forward and shook her head. "No, not resentment, Faramir. Never resentment. Even if such a emotion had been dwelling in my heart, the Elves would have long ago driven it out." She paused. "You are not the only one who could not fulfill Boromir's wishes." Another man entered the tent and she shot him a wary look before returning her gaze to her brother, surprise in her eyes. Dressed in the Colors and Insignia of the House of the Stewards? She had never dreamed that she would ever be allowed to do that. She had believed that it was denied her the night she fled Minas Tirith. 'Perhaps it is time his wish was granted.' Yes, perhaps it was. Brania nodded. "Yes, I believe it is. He has waited long enough for this......and so have I."
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King Elessar
Administrator
King of Gondor Lord of the D?nedain Ex-Wanderer Commander of the Armies of The West
"Put my sandwich down Gimli"
Posts: 105
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Post by King Elessar on Mar 11, 2007 15:35:34 GMT
O/C anyone mind if i post here. Brining Brania the colours of the stewad?
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Lord Faramir
Administrator
D?nedain of the South Lord of Emyn Arnen Steward of Gondor
In Desperate Hours Gentleness May be Repaid with Death....... So Be It
Posts: 241
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Post by Lord Faramir on Mar 11, 2007 15:57:58 GMT
O/C anyone mind if i post here. Brining Brania the colours of the stewad? We can use the fact that you need to 'Talk privately with Faramir' as an excuse for you to not be in Minas Tirith.
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