By nautika
Rated K
A/N: This has references to Chapter 8, The Fellowship of the Ring, but should be considered AU. I'm starting a series of friendship fics called "Fireside Chats", the Fellowship (and maybe some friends) sitting by a fire, exchanging stories and getting to know each other and their cultures better. I'm considering this chat #1, so obviously, they wont be in order, as this takes place in Minas Tirith after the Ring is destroyed. I'm toying with the idea of doing one per person. If I continue with that concept, then this will be considered 'Faramir's story.'
Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien and these are his characters. Not for profit story.
Faramir relaxed further into his seat before the fire and smiled softly at the conversation taking place around him. He admitted to himself that he was glad he had yielded to Aragorn's entreaty to join them this evening. The time in Aragorn's temporary quarters in the Citadel had been both educational and entertaining.
Frodo was off somewhere with Gandalf, but Aragorn and the other members of the Fellowship had spent most of the time in friendly debate covering a variety of topics. Food was a popular topic, of course. Favorites had been discussed and some recipes had even been shared! Gimli had tormented Legolas with his dissertation on the best way to prepare meat and how the elf needed fattening up; Merry and Pippin had supplied the names of Hobbit dishes while Sam had been knowledgeable in how to prepare them. Aragorn had spoken quietly of the foods of Imladris and of Rohan.
Drink was, of course, discussed as well. Faramir was surprised that the dwarf had not been more active in that particular debate, but he had actually reddened when the topic was introduced and merely mumbled something under his breath. Legolas, with his elven hearing had likely understood because he his smile had indicated he understood and was amused by the dwarf's discomfort.
Merry and Pippin had danced and sung for them, in fact, everyone present had taken their turn singing. Even Faramir, who had been mostly silent throughout the evening, had done a rendition of one of his Ranger's favorite tunes. Faramir wondered briefly if Mithrandir would have sung had he been here, but dismissed the thought with a quiet chuckle.
Faramir knew some of these topics had been discussed before, probably in Rivendell when these individuals had been trying to learn about each other and to become more of a unit before they struck out on the trail. The former Captain noted that Pippin especially had requested the retelling of some stories.
As Faramir laughed at Legolas' tale of men tasting black squirrel, he contemplated what stories Boromir might have told. From time to time he caught a certain look in Merry's or Pippin's eyes that suggested, they too, thought of the man they had grown so fond of on their journey and who had died defending them.
Faramir felt a light touch on his arm and forcibly drew himself back from thoughts of his brother to the sight of Aragorn's concerned face. The King didn't speak, but his eyes questioned was Faramir well? Faramir smiled and turned his attention back to the current topic, one that from all appearances had not been debated before: the worst possible place to be trapped.
From the floor, where he lay on one side with a hand supporting his head, Legolas grinned up at Gimli, who sat on a small, but sturdy table. "In a cave, of course."
"Humph! I resent that, Elf!"
Legolas' tone was sweet enough to make honey seem sour by comparison. "Really? And I suppose you would like to spend some time in a tree?"
Gimli muttered under his breath. Aragorn swallowed a smile, and Faramir was relieved to see the king distracted from his concern for his Steward as he queried, "What was that, Master Dwarf?"
"I said I saw the elf's point!"
Quiet laughter filled the room and the dwarf smiled, amused by his own words. As the laughter died out, Aragorn turned to the Hobbits. "So, for Legolas, a cave and for Gimli, a tree. What of you, my friends?"
Merry and Pippin exchanged a look and answered together. "The Barrow Downs!"
Sam, spared the burden of naming a location of his own choosing, supported his fellow Hobbits. "That's the truth and no mistake!"
Legolas nodded solemnly. "I believe that location is worse than mine."
For once, the elf and dwarf were in complete agreement. "Aye! And mine."
Aragorn smiled, his fondness for this group shining from his eyes. "I can think of nowhere worse to be trapped."
Faramir, who except for his short tune had not participated, surprised them by speaking up.
"I can."
"Worse than the Barrow Downs? This would be someplace you have actually been?" Faramir suspected the king was struggling with the fear that Faramir might be on the verge of mentioning his final moments with Denethor in the Hallows. Obviously, none of them had truly mentioned the place they would least like to be or Sam would have spoken of Mount Doom or of Shelob's lair and those who had walked The Paths of the Dead would have named it. None had wished to bring down the mood of the evening or spoil this time together. Following Aragorn's question, silence filled the room and each of his companions now looked at Faramir expectantly.
Faramir nodded solemnly, but turned enough to allow his king to catch the gleam in his eye.
"Well," Gimli demanded, "Let's hear it, lad!"
"Eowyn's table at meal time."
A collective shudder ran through the group. Those who had not eaten the White Lady's cooking had heard of it from those who had. As one, they bowed their heads to Faramir in surrender.
End!