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Title:  Remembrance
Author:  Saklani
Pairing: Legolas/Faramir
Fandom:  LOTR: post ROTK
Rating:  PG13
Beta: Merisel
Summary:  Legolas helps a grieving Faramir celebrate his late brother's birthday.
Disclaimer: Tolkein's estate and New Line own everything!  I am just a humble fic writer who writes because her Muse will not leave her alone.
Feedback:  HELL YEAH!
Posting:  Sure! Go ahead, just let me know where ya put it!
Author's Notes:   My Secret Santa Challenge was just that, a challenge.  I sincerely hope this fic proves a worthy gift.  The song is an old Elizabethan bawdy song.  The poem is by James Shirley (1596-1666).
Dedicated To: RebeccaSama

Rememberance

Faramir, son of Denethor, stumbled along the lamplit streets of Gondor.  He clutched a bottle of ale to his chest, careful not to drop the precious item as he slipped over the wet cobblestones.  A light mist plastered his hair to his face and soaked his clothes, but he failed to notice.

    „Yonder comes a courteous rider
     Lustily raking o'er the hay
     He was well aware of a lass
     As she came riding o'er the way," he sang in a loud, slurry, and offkey voice.  He stopped at a corner, leaning against a wall to swig another mouthful of ale.  „Then she sang a down a down..." he trailed off, frowning.  „Now, howdoesthatgoagain?"

Another swallow of the brew did not jog his memory, but he tried again,

    „Then she sang a down a down
    Hey down- what are the words!" he yelled.

    „Then she sang a down a down
      Hey down a down
     Then she sang a down a down
     Hey derry down derry," a lilting voice sang behind him.

Faramir whirled around, nearly spinning himself to the ground.  A strong hand caught him by the arm, preventing his collapse.  He blinked and squinted at the person holding him, trying to bring the face into focus.

„Are you all right, Sir Faramir?"

The face coalesced into a pair of lovely brown eyes, long blonde hair, pointed ears, and fair skin.
„Prince Legolas," Faramir said, pounding the elf on the back harder than necessary, „well met."

Legolas' mouth down turned slightly as he realized the extent of Faramir's drunken state.  „Indeed, Faramir, although the weather might be fairer."

„Weather?"  Faramir looked up into the wind and rain.
„What is wrong with it?"

„Your refreshment provides warmth from the rain, but I lack such protection," Legolas said.

„Ohh, I forgot.  Care for a drink?" Faramir asked, holding out the bottle.

„I shall refrain," Legolas said, „but I thank you.  I am heading to my lodgings.  As yours are nearby, would you care to accompany me?"

Faramir nodded and hiccuped in the same movement.
„Bars are closed anyway."

Legolas tilted his head in acknowledgment and carefully steered the inebriated man along.  Faramir  stumbled over stones and steps, slipped in puddles, and stepped on Legolas' feet.  More and more, Legolas found himself supporting the full weight of his companion.

Finally, Faramir tripped over his own feet and toppled forward.  Frantically trying to stay up, he wrapped his arms around Legolas' waist, accidentally butting the elf in the stomach as he lurched into him.

„Oof," Legolas gasped and fell in a heap with Faramir on top of him.

They lay in the muck of the road, attempting to catch their breath and getting wetter by the second.  Legolas moved first, pulling at Faramir's arms to unwrap them from his waist.  The man fumbled around, but proved incapable of doing anything other then tangling them further.

„Faramir!" Legolas yelped inelegantly for an elf,
„your knee pokes me quite intimately."  He pushed the man back.

The man giggled.  „I have wondered about being intimate with an elf."

Legolas managed to maneuver out from under Faramir.  Ignoring the last comment, he hauled the man up and headed off again.  Their shambling and rickety gait carried them a short distance in a great deal of time.

After Faramir near lost his feet twice more, Legolas decided to give up returning to their lodgings.  He searched up and down the street for an inn.  At the very end of the street, his elvish eyes spotted a sign reading ŒThe Four-eared Fool.'

Dragging Faramir, he managed to make it to the inn without mishap.  Legolas banged on the door, shouting, „Hallo!  Hallo!"

A dozen pounds and calls later, a red-faced man, dressed in a nightshirt, threw open the door.  „Why you be disturbing people so late at night?"

Faramir choose this inopportune moment to start singing again
    „Jove you speed fair lady' said he
     Among the roses that be so red
     If I hath not my will of you
     Full soon, fair lady, I shall be dead."

Maintaining his composure, Legolas said, „We need a room for the night.  I am willing to pay double the normal rate."

The innkeeper stared at the two, looking especially long at Faramir.  „I canno give you any food," he growled.

„Then she sang down and down," Faramir continued to warble.

„That is of no consequence," Legolas assured him.  „We merely need shelter and warm beds."

„Hnnh, and a night to sleep it off by the look of him," he grunted.  Gesturing them inside, he led them up a flight of stairs.

Gratefully, Legolas half-carried the singing Faramir after the innkeeper.  The man stopped and opened a large wooden door.

„You can share this room," he said.

„My humblest thanks," Legolas said.  He dumped Faramir on the nearest chair and dug some coins from his pocket.  Without looking at the amount, he handed them to the innkeeper.  „I hope this shall suffice."

The startled expression on the man's face told Legolas that the amount far exceeded being sufficient.  „If you be needing anything in the morning, feel free to ask for me.  My name is Waitecroft," the innkeeper said in an infinitely friendlier tone.

„Thank you, we shall.  Goodnight," Legolas said.

„Goodnight, Sirs," he said, closing the door as he left.

Legolas turned to examine his now silent companion.  Faramir slumped in the chair, his arms dangling over the sides.  He still clutched the bottle in one hand.  His chin rested on his chest, which rose and fell in the rhythm of sleep.

„Whatever possessed you to drink yourself into such a state on this fine evening?" Legolas muttered, kneeling before the prone man.  He eyed the drenched clothing, deciding to remove it before Faramir took ill.  His skillful fingers soon opened all the buttons and fasteners, and he peeled the clinging fabric away.

For a moment his eyes lingered on Faramir's tan skin and finely muscled limbs.  Legolas glanced away, ashamed of the slip in his behavior.  He carried Faramir to the bed and tucked him under the warm covers, careful not to look below his neck.

„May your dreams be peaceful, dear Faramir," he said, „although your activities have caused my night to be less than."

**********

A fine sand coated Faramir's tongue, filling his mouth with a gritty, unpalatable flavor.  Every limb ached dimly, topped off by the roaring sensation in his head.  A full cavalry galloped in circles around his stomach, causing relentless waves of nausea.

„Elbereth, what a hangover," he groaned.

„Considering how much ale you consumed last night, you can hardly be surprised," a familiar, soft voice said from his right.

Faramir opened his eyes, immediately regretting it when two blades of light stabbed into the back of his brain through his eye sockets.  „I cannot remember last night," he said, closing his eyes quickly.

Legolas pressed a glass of clear fluid into Faramir's hand.  „This remedy shall ease your suffering."

Struggling into a half-sitting position, Faramir swallowed the contents.  His face contorted in distaste.  „I hope the cure is worth the flavor."

„I assure you, this potion works wonders on the after-affects of a long night."

And indeed, Faramir's body already returned to a semblance of normalcy.  He managed to crack open his eyelids and look at his benefactor.  „Prince Legolas!" he cried, jarring his head and flushing a deep crimson. „Have you been looking after me?"

The elf was seated in a chair next to the bed.  „Since I discovered you wandering the streets in the midst of a rainstorm."

A darker hue encompassed Faramir's face as more blood rushed to his cheeks.  „What a fool I have made of myself," he said, „and a bother and inconvenience to you."

Legolas shook his head in dismissal.  „Do not trouble yourself so, Faramir.  Even elves may delve to deeply into their wine sometimes."

This statement failed to calm Faramir.  He started to sit up and then realized his state of undress.  „My clothes," he asked ruefully, anticipating the answer.

„They were soaked through, so I removed them," Legolas said.  He pointed to the fireplace, where Faramir's clothes hung neatly.  „They should be dry by now.  Shall I give you a few moments alone to dress?"

Faramir nodded, trying to ignore his throbbing head.
„Your concoction works wonders," he said.  „I feel well already."

The elf turned knowing, amused eyes in his direction.  „Indeed.  I shall leave you to your clothes, then.  Would you like me to order you some breakfast?"

Faramir's insides lurched at the thought.  „I am not feeling hungry," he said weakly, „but please do not let me prevent you from having some."

„Of course.  I shall return as soon as I have finished."  He stood and bowed slightly to Faramir, the picture of elven grace, and then exited.

After inhaling several deep, steadying breaths, Faramir slid out of the warm covers and pulled himself upright.  A torrent of unpleasant sensations struck him at once -- the cold floor on his bare feet, the churning in the pit of his stomach, and the sickening swirling of his head.  Only a desperate clutching of the bedpost prevented him from capsizing into the wall.  He rested his forehead against the post.

//I shall never, ever touch another drop of ale so long as I live.//

Moments trickled by, until Faramir realized Legolas might return at any time.  Only the thought of the elf discovering him naked and plastered to the bedpost galvanized Faramir into action.  Arms outstretched, he lurched the monumental four steps to the fireplace.

He never remembered his clothes being so treacherous and impossible to put on.  His undergarments twisted into a knot as he attempted to slip his legs into them.  The laces and ties of his breeches slipped through his leaden fingers.  He caught his head in one armhole of his tunic.  After fifteen minutes of fumbling and cursing, he finally conquered the task of dressing.

The door opened, admitting Legolas, as Faramir sprawled in one of the chairs by the now long-dead fire.  The elf carried a steaming mug with him and offered it to Faramir.  „This herbal tea will ease your stomach."

Faramir accepted the brew with a slight smile of thanks.  He sipped slowly, grateful for the palatable flavor.  The churning sea of his insides slowed to a babbling brook.  Sighing gratefully, he settled further into his chair.  „For the first time this day, I feel comfortable in my own skin."

„If I may be so bold, Sir Faramir, what caused you to drink so heavily?  In my experience only an event of gravity causes a man like yourself to drink."

Eyes blurred behind a sudden film of moisture, he said, „Today is -- was Boromir's birthday."

Legolas glanced down at the ground, an expression of despair tugging at his features.  „We all miss him.  He was a good and noble man."

„He did not deserve to die that way," Faramir said passionately.

„Many died in ways they deserved not, because of Sauron," Legolas said softly.

„Yes, you are right," Faramir said.  He closed his eyes against the pain of memory.  „I plan to visit  the hill where I buried his horn and pay my respects.  Would you accompany me? For I do not think I can face this task alone."

Legolas noted the signs of Faramir's emotional distress -- the tightly clenched fists, grimace of sorrow and slumped posture.  „I would be honored to join you.  Boromir fought bravely by my side, and his memory is dear to me."

Despite the tears running down his cheeks, Faramir managed a smile in Legolas' direction.  „Thank you, Prince.  I know my brother would be proud to hear you say so.  Shall we go now?"

„Whenever you are ready, Sir Faramir.  You could not ask for a finer day.  Last night's storm blew over, and the sun shines bright and clear over all of Gondor."

„The kind of day we loved best," Faramir said.  „I remember many times we would..."  He trailed off, lost in his recollections.

Legolas waited for the man to emerge from the past.  Finally, Faramir stirred and blinked himself back into the present.

„I am ready," he said, standing.  „At least, as ready as I shall ever be."

Legolas clasped his shoulder gently.  „Let us go."

**********
    The glories of our blood and state
        Are shadows, not substantial things;
    There is no armour against fate;
        Death lays his icy hands on kings;
            Sceptre and crown
            Must tumble down,
    And in the dust be equal made
    With the poor crooked scythe and spade.

    Some men with swords may reap the field,
        And plant fresh laurels where they kill:
    But their strong nerves at last must yield;
        They tame but one another still:
            Early or late
            They stoop to fate,
    And must give up their murmuring breath
    When they, pale captives, creep to death.

    The garlands wither on your brow;
        Then boast no more your mighty deeds;
    Upon Death's purple altar now
        See where your victor-victim bleeds:
            Your heads must come
            To the cold tomb.
    Only the actions of the just
    Smell sweet, and blossom in their dust.

Faramir's voice sank into silence, and he bowed his head.  Legolas stood a few feet behind him, watching him mourn.  A soft breeze brushed over their faces, carrying the song of a lark as it blew.

„I could not bear to see my brother's horn buried in the family crypt," Faramir said suddenly, voice wavering. „Especially after what my... my father tried to do."

„You picked a beautiful place," Legolas said sincerely.  He gazed around him.  Minas Tirith glistened far behind them, it's white spires reaching for the heavens.  Around the hill, fields of grass waved serenely in the breeze.  A smattering of oak trees stood proudly, their branches offering refuge to birds and small animals.

Faramir nodded, still kneeling and gazing at the resting place of the Horn of Gondor.  „We spent our childhood roaming these hills together."  A tear splashed on the ground near his feet.

The elf moved to stand next to the bowed man and placed a hand on his shoulder.  „I share your grief at his loss."

„It should have been me," Faramir said bitterly.  „If I had been a better soldier, my father would have sent me instead."

Legolas drew back a little, surprised.  „Do not say such things, Faramir.  Nothing you might have done would have convinced your father to send you.  He misjudged you and your abilities terribly.  I beg you, do not twist his wrongs into your heart like a knife."

Shoulders heaving. Faramir buried his face in his hands.  Tears leaked through his fingers, despite his attempts to prevent them.  „I loved him so much, you see.  No matter how bleak things looked, I always had my brother.  He defended me from our father, coached me in soldiering, and consoled me whenever my heart lay heavy within my breast.  I wanted to go to Rivendell so badly, the desire scorched my heart.  I knew that whomever went would never again see the white city of Gondor.  My father turned a good day into the worst of my life.  A day my brother told me never to forget, as if I could."  His voice choked off on sobs, and Faramir's body shook with the force of his weeping.

Legolas knelt beside Faramir, wrapped his arms around the man's chest, and pulled him into his chest.  The man clutched at Legolas' tunic, resting his head on the elf's shoulder.  In seconds the fabric was soaked through with tears.

For near an hour they sat thus entwined, long after Faramir's weeping turned into the occasional sniffle.  Finally, the man pulled back, unable to meet Legolas' eyes.  „I apologize for my behavior," he said.

Legolas lifted Faramir's chin with a finger.  „Never apologize for genuine grief," he said.  „You loved your brother most truly and feel his loss keenly.  Would you have me believe you regret your feelings?"

He shook his head.  „No." A small, wan smile tugged at his lips.  „Thank you, Legolas."  He leaned forward and kissed the elf chastely.

Without thought, Legolas lifted one hand to keep Faramir's mouth on his own.  The other hand plunged into Faramir's soft hair.  His tongue stole out to bathe the man's lower lip.

Gasping at his imposition, Legolas pulled back.
„Forgive me, Faramir," he whispered, gazing into the man's soft eyes.

„Tell me you are not apologizing for _your_ feelings, Legolas," Faramir said.  „Your comfort and closeness mean a great deal to me.  Please do not spoil them with apologies."

An openly delighted smile lit Legolas' pale features.  Faramir thought he had never seen such radiant beauty in all his life.  They moved forward in tandem, resealing their mouths in a passionate embrace.

Faramir pulled back, looking around.  „Did you hear that?"

Legolas nodded.  „I thought mine ears did deceive me."

„So did I."  He smiled at the elf.  „What do you think it meant?"

Legolas kissed the man's forehead.  „Good tidings for us," he said, „and for our future."

„Together?" Faramir asked softly.

Legolas merely smiled and gave Faramir his answer with another kiss.

And as he did so, the song of the Horn of Gondor once more echoed through the hills.

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