Strange Comfort & Faramir in the Garden
Dec. 20th, 2009 11:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
written_leaves"Walk with me." He says, and I do.
Inside my heart I look askance at myself.
What of my own people? My own ambitions?
Yet... I want to walk in the garden with him,
To walk and wander and to have it never end.
An interlude among the war and darkness - this set has the same event from two different viewpoints and styles. The first is Eowyn's, and is a thoughtful, poetic prose style with longer flowing lines. The second is Faramir's and has been set to a more tightly patterned rhyming form with the intent of a military feel. The companion piece for this set would be Ithilien Sunset.
Strange Comfort (Eowyn in the Garden)
Grey-white walls enclose so few living things,
There is little green or open in this city of stone.
The benches dream of green, with their mossy carvings,
But they too, are cold and hard and lonely when touched.
Above, more buildings, and above that the mountain peaks...
No, there is no escaping being overshadowed in such a place.
Overshadowed...aye....
Somewhere just over there, nearby, under golden cloth my leige lies dead.
Taken in his moment of glory, overshadowed by....no,
No. I will not think upon such things.
I must turn my mind to other thoughts lest that darkness return for
I would not have the gift of light given me so soon despised.
Commanded to live. It is a strange thought - yet I feel it.
Kept from a clean and honorable death, I must endure it somehow.
This is my battle now. Finding some way to live.
Shattered pieces of dreams only wound if I touch them.
The nighttime is dark though cleaner than it has been.
I had almost forgotten that darkness could be clean.
Though the moon whispers to me of the late hour,
Yet I would stay just a little, to look out upon the city,
To breathe the sharp freshness of mountain snows above.
I do not turn when I hear his steps.
The Captain, now Steward, coming once more to me.
He who has also borne great troubles; a strange comfort to me.
Brought out of death, he struggles to find his life as I do.
A gift he received from the same hands and voice.
The wind is cold, stirring in his dark hair as he stands beside me
Following my gaze over the garden wall.
Each day, each night it has been the same. Often we speak not at all.
There is a strange comfort in it, his silences and small words;
We are leaders without followers for a time, a fragile time.
I do not look to be treated gently yet he does so anyway,
And somehow I find no offense. Perhaps it is because he does not
Question my strength, or my thoughts, or my silences.
He does not question who I am or how I came to be here.
We simply walk together, heal together.
Why do I look for him each evening? He warms me with a glance.
A strange comfort for me, knowing this warmth without a touch,
To feel safe when he is near, I who have never asked for safety.
"Walk with me." He says, and I do.
Inside my heart I look askance at myself.
What of my own people? My own ambitions?
Yet... I want to walk in the garden with him,
To walk and wander and to have it never end.
To live in a garden
With him at my side, forever.
-
Faramir in the Garden
These mossy walls, their stones are old.
More open lands you love, perhaps.
Here, walk beside me. You look cold;
Around your shoulders, please, draw this wrap.
Do you remember Grey Mithrandir?
With the learned I have studied.
Ah, for his wisdom! If it were mine,
Would my hands have stayed unbloodied?
Could I find in books salvation?
Do not believe all wisdom's arms;
I lift my sword up for my nation,
But learning deflects deeper harms.
Deeper harms with wounds that linger.
If hearts are strong, bodies will heal.
You and I, we know they mingle,
We know despair's sword, sharp and real.
My father loved my elder brother,
When I was small I saw his smile.
He sometimes even smiled for others,
But not for me, his younger child.
My brother taken from his side,
My father's sharpness cut my heart.
Though I had thought to stem that tide,
To harden feelings, set apart...
Defenses he always perceived,
Relentless force, his comments pierced.
Would he have brought me to my knees?
I tried to please; he remained fierce.
Oh father, why was there no blessing?
Why did you turn your face from me?
If I gave my life, never resting
Would my brother's smile be given me?
Mithrandir told me father loved me,
That he would show it nigh his end,
Why did his approval drive me
To his will, my own to bend?
Now he lays in ash, no longer
Can I reach him. But his voice...
I remember it grew stronger
After he had made his choice.
Fragments I remember, dry wood...
Smoke-scent, soft oil. Then the flames...
And somewhere in that fire, I could
Hear my father scream my name.
Tangled thoughts and tangled feelings,
Through my fevered mind they've wandered.
Dire events - I still am reeling,
Come, walk with me, and let me ponder.
These are dark times, do not mind me;
My words stumble without a grace.
Thank you for your listening silence,
The quiet moonlight on your face.
-
Inside my heart I look askance at myself.
What of my own people? My own ambitions?
Yet... I want to walk in the garden with him,
To walk and wander and to have it never end.
An interlude among the war and darkness - this set has the same event from two different viewpoints and styles. The first is Eowyn's, and is a thoughtful, poetic prose style with longer flowing lines. The second is Faramir's and has been set to a more tightly patterned rhyming form with the intent of a military feel. The companion piece for this set would be Ithilien Sunset.
Strange Comfort (Eowyn in the Garden)
Grey-white walls enclose so few living things,
There is little green or open in this city of stone.
The benches dream of green, with their mossy carvings,
But they too, are cold and hard and lonely when touched.
Above, more buildings, and above that the mountain peaks...
No, there is no escaping being overshadowed in such a place.
Overshadowed...aye....
Somewhere just over there, nearby, under golden cloth my leige lies dead.
Taken in his moment of glory, overshadowed by....no,
No. I will not think upon such things.
I must turn my mind to other thoughts lest that darkness return for
I would not have the gift of light given me so soon despised.
Commanded to live. It is a strange thought - yet I feel it.
Kept from a clean and honorable death, I must endure it somehow.
This is my battle now. Finding some way to live.
Shattered pieces of dreams only wound if I touch them.
The nighttime is dark though cleaner than it has been.
I had almost forgotten that darkness could be clean.
Though the moon whispers to me of the late hour,
Yet I would stay just a little, to look out upon the city,
To breathe the sharp freshness of mountain snows above.
I do not turn when I hear his steps.
The Captain, now Steward, coming once more to me.
He who has also borne great troubles; a strange comfort to me.
Brought out of death, he struggles to find his life as I do.
A gift he received from the same hands and voice.
The wind is cold, stirring in his dark hair as he stands beside me
Following my gaze over the garden wall.
Each day, each night it has been the same. Often we speak not at all.
There is a strange comfort in it, his silences and small words;
We are leaders without followers for a time, a fragile time.
I do not look to be treated gently yet he does so anyway,
And somehow I find no offense. Perhaps it is because he does not
Question my strength, or my thoughts, or my silences.
He does not question who I am or how I came to be here.
We simply walk together, heal together.
Why do I look for him each evening? He warms me with a glance.
A strange comfort for me, knowing this warmth without a touch,
To feel safe when he is near, I who have never asked for safety.
"Walk with me." He says, and I do.
Inside my heart I look askance at myself.
What of my own people? My own ambitions?
Yet... I want to walk in the garden with him,
To walk and wander and to have it never end.
To live in a garden
With him at my side, forever.
-
Faramir in the Garden
These mossy walls, their stones are old.
More open lands you love, perhaps.
Here, walk beside me. You look cold;
Around your shoulders, please, draw this wrap.
Do you remember Grey Mithrandir?
With the learned I have studied.
Ah, for his wisdom! If it were mine,
Would my hands have stayed unbloodied?
Could I find in books salvation?
Do not believe all wisdom's arms;
I lift my sword up for my nation,
But learning deflects deeper harms.
Deeper harms with wounds that linger.
If hearts are strong, bodies will heal.
You and I, we know they mingle,
We know despair's sword, sharp and real.
My father loved my elder brother,
When I was small I saw his smile.
He sometimes even smiled for others,
But not for me, his younger child.
My brother taken from his side,
My father's sharpness cut my heart.
Though I had thought to stem that tide,
To harden feelings, set apart...
Defenses he always perceived,
Relentless force, his comments pierced.
Would he have brought me to my knees?
I tried to please; he remained fierce.
Oh father, why was there no blessing?
Why did you turn your face from me?
If I gave my life, never resting
Would my brother's smile be given me?
Mithrandir told me father loved me,
That he would show it nigh his end,
Why did his approval drive me
To his will, my own to bend?
Now he lays in ash, no longer
Can I reach him. But his voice...
I remember it grew stronger
After he had made his choice.
Fragments I remember, dry wood...
Smoke-scent, soft oil. Then the flames...
And somewhere in that fire, I could
Hear my father scream my name.
Tangled thoughts and tangled feelings,
Through my fevered mind they've wandered.
Dire events - I still am reeling,
Come, walk with me, and let me ponder.
These are dark times, do not mind me;
My words stumble without a grace.
Thank you for your listening silence,
The quiet moonlight on your face.
-