♫ A drabble about our muses inspired by the next song that comes on shuffle
(Song - If I Ever Lose My Faith In You)
[Damn, that’s an awesome song for her.]
She liked this younger son of Denethor’s. She liked Boromir as well, would like to get drunk with him some time and try to make him blush with the most explicit songs she can think to sing. There was something different about Faramir, though. He nearly reminded her of Amandil. And so she had sought him out one evening when she knew he was not busy with other duties, and found him delightful company.
At her request he took her for a walk along one of the walls, and she noted how the guardsmen treated him with not only respect but a sort of thing that might be called love. They talked of small things, then deeper things; Miriel gently pulled what information from him he would provide about himself, his family, his city. At last the setting sun seemed to gild the fields about them, though it did not touch the mountains to the east. They had been speaking of the old Númenorean customs, the once-queen telling him of the Three Prayers and the harsh eyes of the stone eagles on Meneltarma, the green veldt that was never tended by human hand but never grew weeds or suffered the presence of butterflies.
At a lull in the conversation she found herself clasping his arm companionably, standing close at his side. She wondered what they must look like, and a vision of the white streets of Roménna overwhelmed her. She stared out at the land spread before them, not able to look at him as she spoke.
"You do not know the faith that we placed in you, the hope that our descendants would survive and thrive and go on to stand strong, redeem our mistakes. An unfair burden to have set on the shoulders of men and women not yet born. But you have fulfilled the faith of the Faithful, Faramir. No matter what comes, do not ever forget that."