between boundaries --faramir--

[amber]

Rohan. She'd been there a few times, not many. It was a long journey and that wasn't exactly something Niira liked to do, though sometimes she seemed to be doing a lot of it. In any case, she hardly ever traveled alone. But Rohan was part of Niira's history. This was the place her mother and her grandmother were from. Separate times, of course. Her father had traveled to Rohan to explore his history a bit and met Niira's mother. There were two elves with her, a male and a female; the male was a fellow healer and the female just a friend that Niira spent time with when she wasn't working. Niira's grandfather insisted that one of the people traveling with her be another healer in case something happened to her. Needless to say, that didn't help her feel any better about the long distance she would have to travel.

Her gown was simple, a long brown thing tied at the waist with a lighter ribbon. Her hair was down and reached just passed her shoulder blades. Niira wasn't a fancy sort of person, especially when she knew she would be going somewhere on a horse. Horses were actually something she wasn't afraid of, which was great. It was the thought of being in the open. Even that didn't bother her as much as knowing that there were mountains they'd have to cross. There was a gap just between Rohan and Gondor in the mountains. It meant back-tracking a little, but it also meant not having to actually go through the mountain range.

Normally, Niira would have insisted that they go straight to Rohan, but the other healer wanted to stop for a bit. Niira thought it was stupid. They were so close, why not just go and find a place to stay. Niira had to admit that she was tired, being mostly human was something that gave her a bit of a disadvantage when riding with elves. Maybe the healer thought that Niira should rest. Her grandfather had probably told him to go easy on her. But Niira just wanted to be inside a building, or behind a wall. Anything that would provide some sort of security. Despite the fact that they were supposed to be resting, Niira couldn't sit still. Instead she wandered around, not far of course because being vulnerable was not something she wanted to get herself into, but far enough away that she wasn't really with her companions anymore. Why wouldn't they just get up and finish their journey?

ooc: I didn't specify a time, either way Niira would look the same so I just decided to let you choose how old you want him to be

[faramir]

The kingdom of Rohan had always been seen as less "civilized" by the people of Gondor -- the Rohirrim dwelt in wooden houses, while men & women(& children, don't forget the children) of Gondor thrived in magnificent buildings of stone; the Rohirrim passed on knowledge through songs, while Gondor housed libraries & libraries of scrolls & books; the Rohirrim were called Middle Men: superior[better] than the Easterlings, yet still inferior[not as brilliant as] to the wo|men of Gondor -- _apparently both shared common ancestry via the Edain, although Faramir had yet to learn this from an official academic source, as opposed to the (rather/fictional) tales spun from women's tongues. All this looking down & yet Rohan was still [somewhat] considered a close[?] ally to|of Gondor.

As the second-born|secondborn son of the [r[R]uling] Steward of Gondor, Faramir's studies included the relations between Gondor and Rohan; even before he could properly enunciate, he was told of [accurate( ?)] happenings related to the two kingdoms, & now, at age eight&ahalf, he was being taken on a visit to Rohan. Not by or with his father, of course not(his father, who was ashamed of him,_{perhaps despised him?}who saw him as an useless humiliation just(?) because he enjoyed the a(A)rts over fighting|the way/s of the sword,lance,bow&fist), nor was Boromir accompanying him. Just two guards and Faramir's tutor, who were (respectively) strong and knowledgeable enough to ensure that the young Steward-Prince would arrive at Rohan & return to Gondor safe & unscathed. While Boromir remained in Minas Tirith & trained & studied & trained & received showers of praise from (their father) Denethor.

In a sense Faramir was glad to be away from Minas Tirith; it was a relief, for the cold, stone walls of the city was too much for him, confined him to a degree where he felt both physically & psychologically suppressed. Out here, surrounded by real nature in place of the flowers picked by florists & gardeners, the wind playing through his hair, the echoes all around singing out bird chirps & tree rustles in place of the icy footsteps prickling his ears in Ecthelion.

They had stopped for a rest, and Faramir did not complain about it. While the guards and his tutor prepared for a light meal, Faramir took out a book of blank pages, ink & quill, before making his way forwards (a direction randomly chosen by none other than himself and approved by the|his tutor) to sketch this particular area of the White Mountains.


OOC: I'm sorry for this late reply, my work got disrupted and I had to fix a lot of things.

[amber]

Niira really shouldn't have been walking around even a short distance from her companions. Normally she never would have done so. It just wasn't in her nature to do that. She was deathly afraid of something happening to her. Funny, deathly afraid of death. That was a bit of an issue within itself. Already she was feeling the anxiety of being disconnected from her friends. There was a reason she didn't travel alone – she was afraid of being out in the open. She was an easy target. Niira had no idea how to use any real form of a weapon. The only things she was good at were healing others and talking to trees, the former came in handy when someone was hurt and the latter came in handy when she needed to hide herself. The downside to that was that you needed trees to be around in order to have them shield you. Here, Niira had nothing.

Having lost both her parents, Niira was (mostly understandably) very careful. She wasn't immortal like the people she lived with and she knew she was prone to human illnesses. She didn't know how to fight and she didn't know what she would do if she were ever involved in one. She spent most of her life trying to find the good in everyone; actually, she still believes that there is good in just about everyone, though she's been told several times that some beings are just pure evil.

Despite the fact that she would normally have turned back around and headed toward her people, insisting that they take up their route to Rohan, Niira took a chance and headed toward something a little ways in the distance. A person, obviously not completely grown, but where there was a child there was probably at least one adult. Usually, Niira would have gone with her instincts to stay away, but curiosity got the better of her and her feet carried her toward the young man. When she got close enough she realized that this boy was indeed a man, in both the literal and special sense. Niira was mostly man (as far as race went at least). But no one could ever be certain they were safe anymore. Still, he looked harmless enough. “Why do you sit alone?” was all she said in greeting, her head tilted slightly to the side with an expression on her face that clearly said that she intended no harm.

ooc: I understand. I work at a police station so I'm a bit slow as sometimes work kind of kills my muse

[faramir]

At first he saw white: the sky, white; the ground, white; the air curling behind his ears, white. Then brown crouched out, or at least what he thought was brown crouched out, a black-splattered brownie with no evident traces of burns. And then from the white brown black came pink and blue, and yellow, and green, colours that were what the language conveyed plus much, much more than just that. For a while his head remained bowed as he stared at the ink at his disposal -- how could he capture all the colours with just black?

He thought more. If Minas Tirith was, on the surface, as white as the White Mountains, then what other colours did it hold? Did it even hold any? In Ecthelion white dangled from some undefinable thing & bit down on you -- him, his brother, his father. Everyone seemed to be drowning in the solitary colour. But what made him think this? What caused him to long for a break (no pun intended, never) out of the stone-cold city? And how could he hate (did he even hate? Was this emotion that strong?) the walls of stone yet love the stone alone? Why --

He looked up, thoughts having been disrupted by a voice, one which he did not recognise. There, within the range of his vision, stood a woman. She had sharp features,&while one would judge(senselessly), Faramir remained(consciously)neutral. After all, his own mother had(has, she still lives) had sharp features as well. "Forgive me, lady," he began politely&formerly, the way the|his tutor had taught him since dayone, "but I do not sit alone. Does the lady not hear the quivering of branches?"