FIC: Memoriam [double drabble]
Title: Memoriam [double drabble]
Author: Alex
Fandom: LotR [Return of the King]
Characters: Aragorn, Faramir
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Is treasured.
Disclaimer: Written for love, not money.
Summary: In war, there is little time to grieve.
Notes: Written for the
seans_50 November film challenge.

*
Dusk fell swiftly upon Minas Tirith.
Aragorn trudged to the window to gaze at the hollow shells of those who once lived, now strewn across the grasses of Pelennor Fields like so much debris. The coming night softened the ravages of war, but not enough to encourage forgetfulness. Tears of exhaustion and grief stood in his eyes.
Behold your inheritance, Elessar.
Legolas’ hand rested on his shoulder. “Take some rest, Aragorn.”
Aragorn nodded, but hefted his basket and, near stumbling with fatigue, veered toward a curtained alcove. He drew back the curtain and knelt beside the still figure on the bed. Gently, he touched his fingers to the man’s brow. The fever had abated.
The man opened his eyes. “Lord Aragorn.” His voice was a bare whisper.
“You’re healing well, Lord Faramir.”
“You were...with my brother when he died.”
Aragorn tenderly caught Faramir’s upraised hand in his. “I was.” He smiled and drew his fingertips down Faramir’s cheek. “And I promise to tell you all that came to pass. But first you must rest.”
Faramir nodded. “I miss him.” Wearily, he closed his eyes.
Aragorn’s smile dissolved. “As do I.”
Still holding Faramir’s hand, he bowed his head and wept.
End.



Author: Alex
Fandom: LotR [Return of the King]
Characters: Aragorn, Faramir
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Is treasured.
Disclaimer: Written for love, not money.
Summary: In war, there is little time to grieve.
Notes: Written for the
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)

*
Dusk fell swiftly upon Minas Tirith.
Aragorn trudged to the window to gaze at the hollow shells of those who once lived, now strewn across the grasses of Pelennor Fields like so much debris. The coming night softened the ravages of war, but not enough to encourage forgetfulness. Tears of exhaustion and grief stood in his eyes.
Behold your inheritance, Elessar.
Legolas’ hand rested on his shoulder. “Take some rest, Aragorn.”
Aragorn nodded, but hefted his basket and, near stumbling with fatigue, veered toward a curtained alcove. He drew back the curtain and knelt beside the still figure on the bed. Gently, he touched his fingers to the man’s brow. The fever had abated.
The man opened his eyes. “Lord Aragorn.” His voice was a bare whisper.
“You’re healing well, Lord Faramir.”
“You were...with my brother when he died.”
Aragorn tenderly caught Faramir’s upraised hand in his. “I was.” He smiled and drew his fingertips down Faramir’s cheek. “And I promise to tell you all that came to pass. But first you must rest.”
Faramir nodded. “I miss him.” Wearily, he closed his eyes.
Aragorn’s smile dissolved. “As do I.”
Still holding Faramir’s hand, he bowed his head and wept.
End.



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Beautiful. Thinking of Boromir dying is always upsetting. But I like the idea of Aragorn and Faramir grieving together, and maybe being able to share their experiences with each other.
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Thank you so much. It is upsetting [I welled up writing it - god, I'm weepy lately] but nice to think they might find comfort in their memories, and each other.
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Pass the tissues, please. *sniff*
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Thank you!
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Yes, yes to all that. Thank you for your lovely feedback, Alex.
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And you're most welcome - I love that picture. :)
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