Forum: HASA Birthday Cards Forum

Discussing: October 2009 Birthday Cards

October 2009 Birthday Cards

Birthday folk: Is your birthday in October and you would be delighted by a little story gift from your fellow HASA members? Then state your request here in this thread.

Create a birthday workshop story to collect your birthday cards in one place, and enter it into the October Challenge.

Authors: Let yourselves get inspired by the suggestions - a chance to be creative and to make a fellow HASA member happy at the same time! And don't forget to add your birthday cards to the Birthday Cards Workshop the recipient of your birthday card has - hopefully - created.

If you have questions, suggestions, or need help, please post here in this thread or write me a private e-mail - I'm happy to help.

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October, 31 - Raksha: It's autumn, and this fan's fancy turns to red autumn leaves, cooler days, fires in the hearth, and Faramir of Gondor birthday drabbles...Yes, as usual, I'd love a piece about Faramir. Give me Faramir as Lord of Emyn Arnen, Prince of Ithilien; in the Council, riding through the hills, leading the efforts to clear out Minas Morgul, or at home...Of course, you know that I'd welcome anything Faramir, though I'd prefer it not be slash.

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

It's autumn, and this fan's fancy turns to red autumn leaves, cooler days, fires in the hearth, and Faramir of Gondor birthday drabbles...Yes, as usual, I'd love a piece about Faramir.  Give me Faramir as Lord of Emyn Arnen, Prince of Ithilien; in the Council, riding through the hills, leading the efforts to clear out Minas Morgul, or at home...Of course, you know that I'd welcome anything Faramir, though I'd prefer it not be slash.   My birthday's October 31. 

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

I've had Faramir in mind for some time now, so your prezzy is packed, ribbon and all, ready to send :-) Where shall I post it? (I'm an entire novice in this, so my apologies if I have missed something)

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

Hello and welcome, Ygrain,

you can post your birthday card right here in this thread - this forum is the main place for them.

Should Raksha create a birthday workshop story, you can add your story there as well (I just looked, she hasn't done so as of yet). Look at the main header posting - it links to the birthday workshop where you can find examples and also further instructions.

Or look through some of the older threads in this forum, where you can find many, many examples of birthday requests and how our HASA members fulfilled them.

Smile

Imhiriel HASA Birthday Cards Volunteer

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

I've had Faramir in mind for some time now, so your prezzy is packed, ribbon and all, ready to send :-) Where shall I post it? (I'm an entire novice in this, so my apologies if I have missed something)

Squeeeeeeee!  I can hardly wait to get my prezzy! You can post it here, to make it easier for everyone to see. I suppose I'll get around to making a Birthday workshop, but probably not this week.

You've had Faramir in mind for some time now? That sounds like fun!Grin

RAKSHA

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

 So... happy birthday, Raksha!

The Bridge of Osgiliath

With great rumble, the middle part of the bridge collapses into the waters of Anduin.

"To the water, Faramir!" My brother' voice rises above the fighting. "What are you waiting for?"

"You, of course!"

With a grunt, Boromir makes a charge against the pressing Orcs and then he blows his horn so loud that they shriek and retreat. Then he grabs me. I yield, and as he hoists me above the water, I grab him, too, and push with my feet against the stone wall.

We go both.

The water stills Boromir's curses and he gives me the blackest look before we submerge again to avoid the arrows, but I don't mind.

Unlike the father's, my brother's anger never lasts long.

As I was re-reading FoTR the other day, Boromir's mention of the defence of the bridge caught my imagination. When - if - I manage to finish some older projects of mine, I'm going to work on this. Currently I'm gathering info (not much found yet) and playing with some details, like the one above.

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

Here you go - one Faramir-centric poem. I hope you like it.

Contrapposto

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

So... happy birthday, Raksha!

The Bridge of Osgiliath

Great stuff, Ygrain! I love it that Faramir refuses to leave the bridge without Boromir - a concise yet exciting look at that crucial moment during the great battle. Thanx much; and I would love to see a longer account of the Battle of Osgiliath.

RAKSHA

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

Here you go - one Faramir-centric poem. I hope you like it.

Contrapposto

Fascinating and reflective, just like Faramir himself.   I loved the device of the stone rider to explore Faramir's memories of the terrible retreat from the Forts.  Thanx much for this birthday gift, Marta!

Raksha 

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

Marta's poem (great work, congratulations!) reminded me that I also scribbled something Faramir-wise, ages ago, so I dug it up and dusted. I apologise for the lame rhymes but making a good rhymed translation, even of my own work, is past my skill.

To Denethor 

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

Ygrain, I'd love to read the poem, but the link doesn't take me there (or anywhere). 

RAKSHA

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

Sorry, I didn't realize I had to set the story as general. Let's try again:

To Denethor

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

Very sweet and sad; Ygrain - thank you for posting the poem.

RAKSHA

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

For Raskha's birthday, some of Faramir's:

Seven (Mile) stones

Zero

Perhaps Denethor's father was dying slowly, perhaps Gondor's future looked bleak, but this, at least, was a day for joy as unalloyed as his soul allowed, for today his second son was born healthy.  Finduilas, though exhausted, smiled at him, and the Captain General knew the Valar had blessed him.  At least on this day.

Ten

"Prince Adrahil, my greetings." Fari said, trying hard to look a Man of Gondor.  He even saluted correctly, and did a brief obeisance before breaking discipline and running into his grandfather's arms.  "I missed you, Grandsire!  Are we going sailing today?"

Even the Steward managed a smile.  Duty well done begets pleasure... such were the aphorisms taught to all young lords of Gondor.  Although this promise had proven false for himself, at least it might still prove true for his sons.

Twenty

Boromir had outdone himself.  Both sons of Denethor were on leave, and the elder had used his to arrange the younger the worthiest of parties.  Fari looked about the hall at the incredible ... scenery about him.  Though most in truth had eyes for Bori or Elphir, as the guest of honor, he could dance with any he chose, and as the night went on and the wine flowed, he regretted that dancing was all the customs of his land would allow a young unmarried nobleman.

Thirty

Today, as most days in North-east Ithilien, had been filled with the strange combination of adrenaline and boredom that was patrol in a contested land.  A few of his company's scouts had seen Orc-tracks, but no live enemies had crossed any of the Rangers' paths.  A good thing.  He remembered that it was his birthday as he drifted off to sleep, but was too tired to think much of it.

One hundred

Today was marked as much by those absent as those present.  Eowyn was two years in the grave, and Eomer could no longer make the journey from Edoras to Emyn Arnen.  But as he thought on these distressing matters, the voices of his father, brother, and grandfather all spoke their various versions of "Quit your elf-maidenish lamenting, Fari!"

His King seemed to read these latter thoughts, and chuckled.  "Let us take what pleasures we still can, in honor of those who can not, old man!" the 152-year-old King whispered with a silght grin.  "I think I shall watch tomorrow's sunset from Henneth Annun.  Would you care to join me?"

The Steward nodded, and, seeing Barahir eying him from a corner table, decided it was time for a game of chess.

One hundred Ten

Establishing in Ithilien the tradition long followed in Dol Amroth, the still-strong father confirmed his son as the new Prince.  Elboron had been ready to accede for years, and Faramir was glad to gift him with the rank.  The office of Steward, Faramir still kept, and he looked forward to once more calling Minas Tirith home.

One hundred Twenty

The second son of Denethor, now white-haired and propped on a staff, made his slow, sure way to the Great Hall of the Tower of Ecthelion.  He had thought himself prepared to greet an array of distinguished guests come to congratulate him on reaching six score years; at the end of a long life, little surprised him.

But the difference between "little" and naught" was everything, for alongside the royal family and Arwen's brothers stood Celeborn, Glorfindel and Erestor.

"Congratulations on your birthday, Lord Faramir!" the silver one said with the slighest of bows.  "Eldarion will be a half-yen by our counting next week.  You know the signficance of that.  But Aragorn told us you would be reaching ten twelve-years today."  The Elf-Lord smiled.  "A number worth celebrating!"

So, Faramir was treated to various first-hand accounts of historical events spanning over sixty times as many years as he had lived, from some of the key participants.  The Valar had blessed him, the Steward knew, on this day and many others.

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

Oh, this is great stuff; Maeglin - all these wonderful milestones in Faramir's life.  I like the way he is as recognizable as a rugged young Ranger captain as he is as a venerable but still hale centenarian.  (loved that conversation with Aragorn)  And the 120th birthday must have been marvelous for Faramir, getting to hear all those historical accounts from eyewitnesses going back thousands of years; including Erestor.  Thanx much!

RAKSHA

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

I managed to drag a Faramir drabble muse from hiding, so: Happy Birthday!

Dawn

Faramir felt almost disappointed when he looked east at the dawn. The morning was grey and overcast, shrouded by thick cloud.

Somehow, the first dawn after Sauron's fall should have been bright, glorious, not this washed-out trickle of light from under an ashen blanket.

Then he turned to look at the Houses of Healing, and he thought of the woman with hair the colour of the Sun who slept there, the mere recollection of her golden hair and the brightness of her smile enough to chase away any regret over the sunrise.

He sighed. He was well and truly smitten. 

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

Well, Raksha, hopefully better late than never.

Beta by RiverOtter.

On Lordship and Lands

            Faramir examined the illustration in the ancient codex that described the disappearance of King Eärnur.  It showed the King, pulling on his gauntlets, standing beneath the White Tree, which was in full bloom in the picture.  The artist had been a good one, capturing the Man's preoccupied expression very well.  The pictured King reminded him of his father, but even more it reminded him of his brother, that look of calculation and stubborn determination.  When Boromir wore such an expression it usually betokened he was planning his next campaign.  And did not the turn of the mouth indicate a tendency toward truculence in spite of the obvious nobility the man wore as easily as he did his mantle and armor?

            At least he would not be expected to rule the country, he thought as he turned his attention to the tree.  He didn't realize that now his own expression was softening, a slight, wistful smile lifting the corners of his mouth.  The tree was in full bloom, and clearly was the very Tree he knew so well--that arch, there, was still there in the skeleton of it he knew so well.  And that gap--yes, that gap also was as familiar as the face of his father!

            To see a living White Tree growing before the Citadel, there in the court of the fountain--ah, how wonderful that would be.  But as his imagination filled in the scene, it was a different face to the King, more slender, more mobile, more thoughtful.  A face that could smile as easily as it could appear stern; eyes that could laugh....

            The King pictured did not laugh often enough, Faramir opined.  Perhaps it was because he had faced too many enemies in his life, and had not thought of gentler pursuits.  It was said he'd never thought of marriage to a woman, being wedded instead to the nation of Gondor.

            "He went so far from Minas Tirith," he said softly to himself.  "He traveled to the remnants of Arnor to assist the King there, only Arvedui was already lost when he arrived.  And he faced the Witch-king twice, once there, and once here.  But it was not by his own strength that Angmar was defeated there...."

            He felt sorry for Eärnur.  He'd been a great warrior by all accounts, but had felt it was all up to him, to destroy all enemies himself--and so he was betrayed in the end by his own hubris, not knowing when it was better to retreat from a challenge.  "I only hope Boromir does not follow that path, too," he murmured.  "He, too, is married to Gondor, and feels he must do all himself."

            He worried so for his brother.  Boromir did not take enough time for himself, to smile at the ladies and listen to his men, to walk along the river and admire the beauty of Minas Tirith from a distance with the glory of Mindolluin behind it, to listen to the running of water and the sough of the wind in the trees.  He rode, but did not glory in the beauty and grace of his horse; he walked, but ever with a destination and purpose in mind; he laughed, but seldom for mere heart's ease.

            "I will serve Boromir one day as his adviser," he said.  "Chief counselor to the Lord Steward, and that is enough for me.  But still I would see the White Tree growing and blooming in the courts of the King, and know the King's friendship, and see the City and the Nation renewed, and know that both Boromir and I served him well."

            "Daydreaming again?"

            Startled, the young man dropped his book into his lap as he turned to face his father.  "I was studying the campaigns of Eärnur," he explained, then felt chagrined, as if he were offering excuses.  "The White Tree--I would see it bloom again--one day, at least."

            "You would deny your brother his heritage of Lordship?"

            "No, Father--not that!  But to see the King return...."

            But his father's scowl was now deeply etched onto his face.  "Daydreams!" he repeated dismissively.  "We of the House of Húrin have served the land well enough, don't you think?  And there remains no heir to Anárion who is closer to the royal line than we."

            "Perhaps not in the south," Faramir began.  "But did not Arvedui leave an heir of his body?"

            "It is said his son perished with him, there in the Bay of Forochel, when the ice closed around their ship."

            "But there is mention here of one named Aranarth, with whom Eärnur spoke before returning southward.  Had not the Kings of Arnor taken the royal Ar as part of their names since the days of King Malvegil?  Is it not possible that an heir to Elendil hides among the Lost?"

            "And if there is?  What kind of heir might one find in a land where there are not enough folk left to name a kingdom, where those who carry what blood remains from Númenor must ever hide in the shadows?  What would such a one know of the responsibilities of rule, or how to deal with allies and enemies?  I have spoken with the traders who deal with what little remains in the northern lands--east of the Misty Mountains there are a few small lands, petty rulers who are each jealous and watchful toward their neighbors--makers of toys and musical instruments, folk whose pride is in the ringing of bells and the crafting of boats to travel the Long Lake and the River Running.  As for the western lands--beyond Dunland there is little enough.  Not even Rhudaur holds much in the way of people, while the ancient road northward is almost empty, with few villages and fewer who would dare to settle the lands.  Until one comes to the Breelands there is next to nothing, and even there the folk cluster together, I am told, wary of strangers for all their support of trade.

            "Nay, from the north come but legends of Elves and Dwarves and other strange creatures, and little of any worth.  Look not to the north for any King, my son.  Those of the Lost who have come to us always leave again, and will not speak willingly of their life there.  Tell me--if they had a King living amidst them, would they come here to serve, do you think?"

            Denethor sighed.  "And such was our last King," he said, his lip slightly curled as he looked to the volume held by his son, "a man who worried so that he was found wanting when his terrified horse fled the field from the presence of the Witch-king that he accepted the challenge uttered by that one after he'd taken Minas Morgul, going thoughtlessly to his death, his personal honor meaning more to him than his responsibilities toward his land and people!  One who left no heir to take up the Winged Crown after him.  I believe Gondor has been better served by her Stewards than by her Kings!  Valacar and his son tearing apart the land, Ondoher seeking to unite the realms once more by marrying his daughter to Arvedui, then plotting to marry a grandson of one realm to the granddaughter of the other....

            "Can you not see, Faramir, how such schemes nearly destroyed our land?"

            Faramir did not know how to answer, for had not the Stewards also made miscalculations at times?  How near Cirion had come to costing Gondor its freedom on the Field of Celebrant, after all.  And Pelendur had done ill, he'd always felt, in denying the claim of Fíriel and her husband as joint rulers to Gondor, preparing for the day when Arvedui would be King of Arnor, reuniting the ancient realms in their persons.

            "Perhaps you are right, Father," he said, and he could hear the hollowness of his own words.

            "Of course I am right!" sniffed Denethor.  "And where is your brother?"

            "Down in the practice grounds in the Sixth Circle, practicing his swordsmanship," Faramir said.

            "Perhaps you should join him," his father suggested.  "Gondor will be well served when he is Steward after me."

            "I would hope so," Faramir said, rising to place the volume back on the shelf.

            But as he left the Citadel with his practice gear, he thought once more of how much his brother reminded him of Eärnur, with his trust in his own sword arm often greater than his trust in his men to work well together.  And he prayed that Boromir would not continue to follow in the path set down by Gondor's last king....

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

Ah--Faramir has made certain both are safe, then.  I am so glad!  And Boromir will cool down soon enough, of course!

Lovely, Ygrain!

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

A wonderful look at some of our Faramir's birthdays, and the delight and honor that he found in the end.

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

Ah, Nath--he has the right of it--the first day of the renewed Middle Earth should indeed be gloroius--although he has glory enough waiting inside for him to bring near his heart....

Wonderful!

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

Glad I started checking the forums. I've been kicking around this little Faramir and Eowyn piece that just might do for you, Raksha. Happy Birthday! 

Gardeners

She follows bits of blood on the floor to find him, and not for the first time. When she does, his eyes lower so that they do not quite meet hers. "I did not wish to,"

"Worry me," she finishes. She redoes the loose stitch, pulling a little harder than perhaps she needs to.  But she gives him a smile as she looks up, her worried eyes running over all the scratches on his face. "Will you tell me, friend?" she asks.

"We approached near the Vale," he says no more than that. She nods, knots the bandage, and takes his hand. It's cold. "It will be a very long time before the work is finished, I fear," he almost whispers, and his eyes, bright and pained, stray to the sword on her belt.  

"Well, we cleared the south field while you were away," she says, gathering all the pieces of his kit and putting them back into his pack, her voice loud for the misty dawn damp. Taking the gear, he regards her with perfect awareness, but gives her a small smile, and says, quietly, "Indeed?"

"The most arduous of trials. Lots of weeds and nasty little rocks bent on sneaking into shoes," she says and he chuckles. She watches him collect his other things, but doesn't, her mind looking past the grey walls and towards white ones, and the garden beyond. Even as they build a new one here, across the river, there is something in both of them seemingly rooted to that other garden, a little of the shadow, and a little of the warmth.

"A fierce combat, or simple conquest for the Lady of the Shield Arm, then?" he draws her back and now his smile extends to his eyes.

"If only they were as easily subdued as men! It was more of a contest then I care to admit, " she laughs, and the air seems more open for it. "There is still much to be done there, though," her voice turns pensive, and then a silence falls between them.    

"Well," he says, taking her to him,  "I have faith in thee, wife."

"And I in thee, husband," she says, leaning into his embrace.  

When they leave, they walk out slowly, away from the garrison and towards the house, quite content to listen only to the happy crunching of pebbles and leaves beneath their feet.

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

Happy Birthday, Raksha! It's always a bit daunting to write Faramir for someone who likes and understands him so well, but I hope you enjoy it. Best Wishes!


Like and Unlike My Own Father

"I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference." (From "The Road Not Taken," by Robert Frost)



Faramir stands, awaiting his own judgment, hoping for a sign of what he ought to do.

Still nothing.

He is Prince of Ithilien, Steward of Gondor, Lord of Emyn Arnen. But he is also Father to Elboron and, right now, that makes all the difference.

His son watches, horrified, as he prepares to send a man to his death for feeding his family. Elboron will never forget this moment, will forever judge according to what he sees his father do this day; what will he remember: were men made for the law, or the law for men?

"Someone must pay."

***

Later that evening, Éowyn sits next to him under the lemon tree, brings him tea, and a smile.

"You broke the law."

"So I did," he says, staring at his ring.

"They say you may suffer an increase in thievery."

Faramir looks up. "So be it, if I cannot make people's lives better so they don't have to steal."

"They say you've disregarded your son's safety."

"What does Elboron say?"

"He says that never again will he be temptation to others like he was today." A pause, a smile, "And that he will never forget."

Faramir leans back, relieved. "Good."

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

Clearing the land of the creatures of evil or clearing a field of rocks and shrubs--what differences there might be may make the former more physically dangerous, but make the world better for all in the end.

Nice comparison between the Prince Steward and his Lady, and the fact both remain armed at all times.  A sad necessity in their world, perhaps, but one both grew up with.

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

Ah, Starlight--how difficult it must have been for Faramir at that moment, having to recognize that sometimes the law is far too harsh and that it is necessary to defy it in order to keep from becoming heartless.  Of course, he had before him the example of the King's justice given Beregond.

But at least Elboron learned the necessity of studying the laws so as to see which are too harshly written, which need to be at times set aside.

Nicely done.

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

<<<I managed to drag a Faramir drabble muse from hiding, so: Happy Birthday!

Dawn>>>

Oh my, lookit all the lovely birthday prezzies - I am well and truly humbled.  For all your gifts, much thanks; and forgive my tardiness in acknowledging them. 

Nath; this is a lovely drabble; I loved Faramir's wry self-knowledge of his having fallen for Eowyn.  Well and truly smitten indeed!  Thank you!

Raksha

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

<<<

Well, Raksha, hopefully better late than never.

Beta by RiverOtter.

On Lordship and Lands >>>>

 

Thanx much, Larner; this is a very accomplished piece, with socio-political undercurrents as well as the pathos of the twilight of Denethor.  Faramir's rather relentless curiosity, perception and foresight are well served here - I agree that he would disagree with Pelendur's judgment. 

 

 

RAKSHA

 

 

 

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

<<<Glad I started checking the forums. I've been kicking around this little Faramir and Eowyn piece that just might do for you, Raksha. Happy Birthday! 

Gardeners>>>

It does very nicely for me; Gilraen; thanx much.  I've always enjoyed writing Married Faramir & Eowyn; but it's a delicate dynamic and not always easy to capture - you've done it beautifully in this ficlet.  The contrasts/comparisons of warring and gardening, major themes in Faramir and Eowyn's lives, are wonderfully applied.

RAKSHA

 

 

Re: October 2009 Birthday Cards

<<<<Happy Birthday, Raksha! It's always a bit daunting to write Faramir for someone who likes and understands him so well, but I hope you enjoy it. Best Wishes!


Like and Unlike My Own Father>>>>


Tolkien has presented Faramir as a man who can bend the rules if need be, and who owes his life to the breaking of an important rule.  I could see him refusing to execute a man for trying to feed his family.  A sobering example for his own son, indeed!  Thank you, Starlight!

RAKSHA

 

 

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