The warm evening breeze and the blazing light of the dying sun announced the end of the day in Minas Tirith. Yet another day since the Commanders of the West had left to battle the forces of Mordor, leaving the people of Gondor with fear and hope in their hearts.
A lone figure could be seen wandering the gardens of the Houses of Healing, deep in thought and seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. Faramir loved the quiet peacefulness of this place, for it soothed his troubled mind. So as soon as his injuries no longer prevented him from leaving his bed, he had made it a habit to roam this part of the city.
He could be found here at almost every time of the day. However, his favourite time was the evening, when the sun would bathe his surroundings in golden light. He had always been one to appreciate the calming solitude of this place, for it had always helped him in sorting out his thoughts. And right now, it was also a balm to soul.
He did not remember much of what had happened to him these past days. His memories were fragmented at best. He only seemed to recall small pieces that flashed across his mind like lightning, presenting him with vivid, sometimes gruesome pictures and leaving him deeply troubled.
He remembered the fighting, the screams of the wounded, and those who were dying. He recalled the sight of the Nazgûl, and a terrifying feeling spreading through him, like shards of ice imbedded in his body. Being unable to move...
Another memory flash, and he saw the face of his father, twisted by rage and madness, looking frighteningly alien to him. He could see his lips moving, but didn't hear a word he said. Then he remembered indescribable, terrifying heat, saw flickering flames all around him, trying to consume him...
Faramir almost stumbled from the force of the memories assaulting his mind; his still weakened body nearly giving in under the strain. Leaning heavily against a nearby tree, he took deep breaths, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. Closing his eyes, the memories started again, but they were by far not as alarming as the previous ones.
He could still smell the smoke from the fire, feel its heat and saw the dancing flames surrounding his helpless body. But there was something else, something that, for some reason, brought hope and a sense of calmness with it. Through the flames, he could see a bearded face, surrounded by long, white hair and gentle blue eyes. He could see Gandalf, and he brought safety with him.
The next thing he knew were blurred images of a man with long dark hair and a soothing voice. He recalled the sensation of being bathed with a strange liquid that lessened the ache within his body. After that, there was only blackness.
Then he remembered waking up and being told about the fight, about the injury he had received through the Nazgûl, and about his own fathers attempt at cremating him. He was told about his being rescued by Gandalf and the halfling, Peregrin, and that the king had returned, that he had saved him from certain death. And that their king, Aragorn was his name, and several others had left to put an end to Sauron's reign of terror.
All this had happened several days ago, and he was slowly coming to terms with everything. So he had wandered the gardens these last days, thinking about the past and what the future would bring, and enjoying the solitude.
He opened his eyes again and pushed himself away from the tree he had been leaning against. He was once again calm and decided to enjoy the last few minutes before the sun would finally set. Starting again at a leisurely pace, he rounded a corner and stopped suddenly, as if in shock.
There, a few feet away at a low hedge, stood a vision of beauty like he had never encountered before. Long, silvery blond hair cascaded down a narrow back like a moonlit waterfall, reaching well below the shoulders. The dark grey tunic enclosed a slender and lithe body, while long and graceful fingers caressed a flower from a bush of wild roses. The light of the sun bathed the delicious creature in a soft, golden glow, making it even more enticing to captivated Steward of Gondor.
Faramir had, of course, heard rumours about the elves that resided in Minas Tirith these days, and he mused that the being before him had to be one of them. Just then, the elf shifted his position slightly, and Faramir got his first real look on the face of the other. The first thing that registered in his mind was that the creature before him was undoubtedly male, which he had not realized before. However, the second thing Faramir noticed, that left him even more dazed, was the incredible beauty of the elf before him.
His delicate features were flawless, with a slightly upturned nose and full, pouting lips. A rosy flush graced his fair countenance, which was currently turned towards the small flower in his hand. Faramir could not tear his eyes away and stared open-mouthed at the vision before him. Just as he started to regain his senses, he saw the elf tense and turn in his direction.
Before he could move a single muscle, their eyes locked and he felt a shudder running up and down his spine. His knees almost gave away as sparkling, sky blue eyes locked with his, eyes that seemed to hold equal parts shock and curiosity. It appeared as if they stood there for an eternity, unable to tear their gazes from each other, as a look akin to panic crossed the fair features of the elf before him.
Faramir watched as the elf turned around abruptly and, without looking back once, practically ran from the gardens. Not understanding what had just happened, he slid down into the soft grass, staring into the distance. What had just happened? Who was he? The young Steward shook his head in an attempt to clear it, but all he could see were sparkling blue eyes in a delicate face. He felt a strange sensation spreading from his stomach upwards to his chest, and a sweet kind of ache made him draw in a deep breath. After sitting there for several moments, he decided to go back inside. Maybe after a nights sleep he would better understand what had happened today.
Rúmil did not stop running until he was safely out of the gardens. Only when he was sure that he had put enough distance between himself and the one he had encountered there, did he slow down to catch his breath. What had just happened? He had decided to take a stroll in the beautiful gardens after speaking with Haldir and Èowyn, and had been fascinated by the beautiful nature presented to him. One bush of roses had drawn his attention in particular, for they reminded him of his home, and he had started to caress the silken leaves, lost in thought.
But after a while he had felt that something was amiss, a prickling sensation at the back of his neck, as if he was being watched. And as he had whirled around in search for the source of his unease, he had found himself staring into the wide-eyed gaze of a young man.
Startled into motionlessness, he could do nothing but stare into these intriguing brown eyes, and into the gentle face of the one opposite him. He was shocked to find himself admiring the man, his handsome features, his hair that reminded him of earth and fire, a shade he had never seen before, and the hint of a beard that grazed the masculine features.
As the moment went on, he felt a strange stirring in the centre of his body, spreading upwards and enveloping him in a pleasant kind of warmth. He felt a bittersweet aching begin in his chest, and this feeling finally jolted him back to his senses. Sensing something like panic rising up within him at the unfamiliar emotions coursing through him, he ran as fast as he could.
He could not understand what had just happened. Why he had reacted the way he did. He decided to simply ignore his rampant emotions for the moment and retire for the night. Maybe the morning would bring some answers.
That night, Faramir tossed and turned in his bed, incapable of putting his mind to rest. Again and again he replayed the scene from earlier in the garden, unable to rid himself of the image of the beautiful creature he had encountered. As he finally fell asleep, he was dreaming of sparkling blue eyes and shimmering silver hair.
Not so far away, Rúmil turned and tossed in a similar manner, his troubled thoughts keeping away the much-desired rest. As he drifted off to sleep at last, it was to the image of gentle brown eyes.
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On First Sight by Undomiel
Story notes: Notes: This is a spin-off to Eowyn's story "An Unexpected Love", a very well written Haldir/…owyn romance.
Beta: Eowyn; I don't know what I'd do without you :-)
