Faramir, son of Denethor | Lord of the Rings (_faramir) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2013-03-21 16:46:00 |
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Entry tags: | !open, ~isabel lane |
WHO: Faramir and OPEN!
WHAT: Out and about
WHERE: The Café
WHEN: Thursday afternoon
RATING: TBD
STATUS: Incomplete/Open!
Ever since his memories had returned two days ago, Faramir had been restless. He could not help the fact that he was forsaking his duties, although that burned at him with an inextinguishable guilt. But he also missed Éowyn, Emyn Aren and Ithilien, and the hard and yet satisfying work that was reclaiming his land from the dying darkness of Mordor, and making it once again into the garden it had once been. But most of all, he missed the familiarity of Gondor. He missed knowing what was expected of him, he missed understanding the minds of those around him. He missed being of the same mind with others, of having a shared set of morals and expectations.
He did not like this place. He did not like the way people here acted. Their behavior, to him, was often immoral and while he tried to keep his own actions beyond reproach, he felt as if there were some who ridiculed him for doing so - or, perhaps worse, those who did not understand why he was upset at all. And this saddened him deeply. He mourned this age, in which so much honor and dignity had been lost. It was not his age, and he felt as if he could never and would never belong here. And yet there was no going back.
Having his Lord Uncle here certainly was a bit of a salve to him. They had spent many hours talking about this place, about its government, and about the differences between these men and the ones he knew, but they had come to no conclusions. There were many here who were bred to leadership, but the people here seemed glad to push them away at the first change they had, and raise someone from the masses who had little education in leading. He knew from experience that one could not simply step off the farm and be expected to be a King or a Prince - there was much education involved that these Men simply did not have, noble in heart though they may indeed be.
Now, he was sitting in the café with a cup of coffee (which he had discovered he quite enjoyed) writing calmly in a notebook in his neat script. He knew not when this place would take his memories from him as quickly as they had been taken away, so he thought it best to record what he could while the thoughts were fresh in his mind.