He Tarries and I Grieve
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“What news of my brother?” “There is no news, Faramir. Merely a tale spun in my mind during a broken sleep.” He waved away her protests impatiently. “Call it what you will. Tell me all.” She settled back in her chair, cup cradled in her hands, and considered, her brow furrowing. “He was in a strange land,” she said slowly. “I could not tell you where—there were many others with him, as though he was traveling in a group. He seemed at ease with them, but not with where they were.” “Did he foresee danger?” “No.” Her tone was definite. “It was a perilous place, perhaps, but fair. So fair, so lovely—great trees with strange leaves, a bower for a long-lived lady limned by living boughs, mithril in every seam and starlight all around.” “Why, Dame Uuna.” He sounded pleased. “There lies a poet’s heart in your breast, if I can but pull on the thread.” “Those are not my words,” she responded dryly. “Much of it came as bits of conversation. I am repeating of it what I can recall, as close as I can.” She paused again, recollecting, and at last: “His heart was troubled. It was a heavy loss—I know not what ‘it’ was,” before he could ask, “only that it grieved him deeply. And the lady, her gaze is like a knife.” She winced a little, as though she were now in the dream again, and the present moment in her words pained her. “It seemed I was behind his eyes, saw what he saw, heard his mind,” she continued. “Flashes of where he was in that moment, and memories of before, words spoken by him and by others, though the phrases were confused and broken at times. I saw the taking of the bridge at Osgiliath,” and here she looked at Faramir, and the fear and the dread he had seen in his brother’s eyes on his return from that victory were there in her face, as if Boromir now inhabited the space behind Uuna’s eyes instead of she his. “He did not tell us all of what passed that day.”
SUMMARY: Uuna Dapifer is the competent, level-headed Seneschal of the White Tower, carrying out orders from the King’s Steward, managing the household for Lord Denethor and his sons, and handling the day-to-day management of the citadel of Minas Tirith. The High Captain has been gone for months on his absurd errand to Imladris, and now his brother has had another one of his dreams and is convinced Boromir is dead. This is completely ridiculous and Uuna is tired of it, so she’s just going to add “rescue Boromir” to her to-do list and it’ll get taken care of, just like she does for everything else. Meanwhile, there’s a war on.
PAIRING: Boromir of Gondor / Uuna Dapifer (OC)
RATING: T | WORD COUNT: 11K+
