A Face in the Crowd: Faramir

Chapter Twelve - The Oak Tree

Legolas had left his friends as they had gone to their beds. He had no real need of sleep, and had allowed his long legs to lead him towards the Anduin, where he stood for a short while on the bank, all the time singing of his home, and his uncertain future across the sea.

After a time he felt called to venture back up the hill, past the tents in the field, and further, into the forests of Ithilien. He had already decided that this land would suit his people well, and that he would be the one to start a colony here, for as long as he was to remain on Middle-earth. Ithilien felt like his home, but closer to the sea, and further from his father.

He found himself singing again as the trees began to close in around him, feeling as though they welcomed him, as if they knew of his plans. Nowhere was he happier as amongst trees – for as long as he could remember they had cleared his thoughts and eased his troubles. This new obsession with the sea did not bring him happiness or comfort like the forests did, but there was a tentative excitement behind it, an exhilarating fear. 

He repeated his earlier song, the words taking on a different meaning now he was alone without the river, ever searching for the waves, to distract him. It was ominous.

To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,

The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.

West, west away, the round sun is falling.

Grey ship, grey ship...

He stopped in his tracks as a familiar but entirely unexpected figure came into view. Sat nestled between two large roots of an ancient oak tree was the girl from the Houses of Healing. Keren, he remembered. Her head was resting back against the gnarled trunk, eyes closed, her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms hugging her legs. She looked very small, and yet entirely at home, although she was still in her uniform.

He had oddly enjoyed their last meeting. Something intrigued him about this very ordinary human who nevertheless had a strangeness about her – the power of crystals for one, and her closeness to his people which she was either genuinely ignorant of, or was determined to deny.

She looked peaceful yet sad, and he was loath to disturb her thoughts. And yet a small spark of something reared up in his soul, even without him being aware, and he found himself singing once more, and not attempting to sing quietly either.

...do you hear them calling,

The voices of my people that have gone before me?

I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;

For our days are ending and our years failing.

He watched as her eyes slowly opened and she became aware of his voice. He did not wish to scare her of course, but he felt a strange comfort that someone could hear him, perhaps could hear the sadness behind the song. He was still hidden from her sight, deep within the trees, yet his feet were taking him closer and closer, and he knew then that once more would they speak. He continued with his song.

I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.

Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,

Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling...

She unnervingly turned her head and looked in his exact direction, and if she had had elven eyes she would have seen him. But he could tell that her stare was blank, and she saw only shadows. 

Then something strange happened – she turned her head away and smiled, seemingly totally unconcerned that she was no longer alone. This was a change to the girl who had run from him in the gardens, not even a month ago. She looked entirely at peace, at home beneath the tree, and he again felt unsure as to whether he should disturb her. But so sweet was the expression on her face that he ascertained that she drew pleasure from his song, and perhaps from his presence, so he sang the final few lines as he made his way through the last of the trees around the clearing, until he stood at the edge of the glade.