Faramir Took♤ Male♤ 31♤Hobbit♤Location: Just outside the Shire♤Tags:Thranduil/Aurelia
“And the only brew for the brave and true... comes from the Green Dragon!” One of his father’s favourite songs, even sung in the dwelling of the Rohirrim, the famous tall, golden-haired horse-masters. Of course, Uncle Merry had spent more time with them than his father, who had been with the Men of Gondor. Faramir himself could only dream of such honors, walking down the path from Bree, after spending a few days with a friend of his. He agreed very much with the song, though he himself wasn’t one of the greats. But, with the surname of ‘Took’, something was just waiting to happen. It just needed the chance.
Of course, that’s what Faramir kept trying to tell himself. But the Great War had been fought and won, peace had settled and the greatest adventure was travelling somewhere for more than a week. He’d never get much further than the forest beyond Bree, before he’d have to go back. Mostly, because his mother was quite strict on letting him go. Despite his father’s occasional encouragement, Faramir disliked upsetting his mother and tried his best to comply with her wishes. It did make him feel better, when she was happy with him. After all, a disapproving parent was never very pleasant. At least he had the excuse of being a child when he was younger, but he was almost of age and his mother kept telling him he needed to grow up. At heart, Faramir would always remain a mischief maker. That was just the truth of all Tooks, plain and simple. Adventure was in their blood and that would never change through the generations.
Now whistling another tune, Faramir came to one of his favourite places near the Shire. The river just outside it. It was a beautiful thing, the sparkling water, the rushing sound it made, as it travelled its own path to the sea. Steady and strong, it looked powerful enough to sweep any Hobbit away if they weren’t careful. Faramir couldn’t help, slightly, digging his leathery soles into the ground, watching the endless flow of water. It was still enchanting, regardless of the danger it posed. That’s when he realised he wasn’t alone.
First, he heard a voice, strong, yet dotted with hints of distress. Turning his head in that direction, he spotted the gleam of something and narrowed his eyes. It appeared to be some sort of large bear, though he had never seen a bear quite like this, so majestic and imposing, with fur of sunlight. After gazing at it for a few good minutes, he noticed someone else and rubbed his eyes, feeling like they were fooling him, or the sheen from the creature was creating an image in his mind. He even pinched himself to make sure it wasn’t a dream. He still saw the Elf, brushing the fur of the creature.
He had to admit, the Elf seemed as magnificent as his apparent companion, with long flowing hair. The pointed ears confirmed Faramir’s suspicions and he had to approach, his Tookish curiousity taking over. His father had spoken of many Elves. Those of Rivendell and Lothlorien and of one from Mirkwood. The great archer Legolas, the keen eyed member of the Fellowship who had travelled across Middle-Earth with his father, in order to destroy the One Ring. This one seemed to fit his father’s description, yet there were some irregularities. He was quite sure that Legolas had sailed West by now and this one seemed older, almost as though he was one of the first Elves, or something similar. But, even without all that, an Elf near the Shire was a rare sight indeed. And... the heralding of a possible adventure...
“Hullo!” Faramir greeted cheerily, waving and walking towards them. “Faramir Took, at your service!” He grinned, widely and it was hard to ignore him. “And who might you be? And this spectacular creature of yours? Are you in need of any assistance?” He offered.
“And the only brew for the brave and true... comes from the Green Dragon!” One of his father’s favourite songs, even sung in the dwelling of the Rohirrim, the famous tall, golden-haired horse-masters. Of course, Uncle Merry had spent more time with them than his father, who had been with the Men of Gondor. Faramir himself could only dream of such honors, walking down the path from Bree, after spending a few days with a friend of his. He agreed very much with the song, though he himself wasn’t one of the greats. But, with the surname of ‘Took’, something was just waiting to happen. It just needed the chance.
Of course, that’s what Faramir kept trying to tell himself. But the Great War had been fought and won, peace had settled and the greatest adventure was travelling somewhere for more than a week. He’d never get much further than the forest beyond Bree, before he’d have to go back. Mostly, because his mother was quite strict on letting him go. Despite his father’s occasional encouragement, Faramir disliked upsetting his mother and tried his best to comply with her wishes. It did make him feel better, when she was happy with him. After all, a disapproving parent was never very pleasant. At least he had the excuse of being a child when he was younger, but he was almost of age and his mother kept telling him he needed to grow up. At heart, Faramir would always remain a mischief maker. That was just the truth of all Tooks, plain and simple. Adventure was in their blood and that would never change through the generations.
Now whistling another tune, Faramir came to one of his favourite places near the Shire. The river just outside it. It was a beautiful thing, the sparkling water, the rushing sound it made, as it travelled its own path to the sea. Steady and strong, it looked powerful enough to sweep any Hobbit away if they weren’t careful. Faramir couldn’t help, slightly, digging his leathery soles into the ground, watching the endless flow of water. It was still enchanting, regardless of the danger it posed. That’s when he realised he wasn’t alone.
First, he heard a voice, strong, yet dotted with hints of distress. Turning his head in that direction, he spotted the gleam of something and narrowed his eyes. It appeared to be some sort of large bear, though he had never seen a bear quite like this, so majestic and imposing, with fur of sunlight. After gazing at it for a few good minutes, he noticed someone else and rubbed his eyes, feeling like they were fooling him, or the sheen from the creature was creating an image in his mind. He even pinched himself to make sure it wasn’t a dream. He still saw the Elf, brushing the fur of the creature.
He had to admit, the Elf seemed as magnificent as his apparent companion, with long flowing hair. The pointed ears confirmed Faramir’s suspicions and he had to approach, his Tookish curiousity taking over. His father had spoken of many Elves. Those of Rivendell and Lothlorien and of one from Mirkwood. The great archer Legolas, the keen eyed member of the Fellowship who had travelled across Middle-Earth with his father, in order to destroy the One Ring. This one seemed to fit his father’s description, yet there were some irregularities. He was quite sure that Legolas had sailed West by now and this one seemed older, almost as though he was one of the first Elves, or something similar. But, even without all that, an Elf near the Shire was a rare sight indeed. And... the heralding of a possible adventure...
“Hullo!” Faramir greeted cheerily, waving and walking towards them. “Faramir Took, at your service!” He grinned, widely and it was hard to ignore him. “And who might you be? And this spectacular creature of yours? Are you in need of any assistance?” He offered.
