fandomhigh | Library, Wednesday [11/30]

Gabrielle hadn't received word from home this week. Ordinarily that was little cause for concern; not even her Greece, strange as it was, could send correspondence with anything like the (more or less) reliable speed of the current era. This week, though, it had her fretting. Were her parents all right? Was Lila? Helen, wherever she was now? Salmoneus, Autolycus, Hower and Minya, Flora, Pandora, Joxer, her Amazons, Homer and the boys at the Academy, Hercules and Iolaus?

And Xena . . .

That was the one that really twisted her stomach with worry, even though she remained mostly convinced that no matter what this thing was, Xena could handle it. The what-ifs were just persistent enough that Gabrielle couldn't help imagining a world without the Warrior Princess in it.

Her life without Xena in it.

That was . . . unthinkable.

On one level, she was aware of how many people she'd met and learned to care about throughout the past several years of her travels. It wasn't until moments like now, though, that she realized just how many people there were, and the thought had her in a pensive but agitated mood.

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"Then you shall see them all and I shall tell you all their stories. Or at least those I know myself," he promised, ducking his head down to study her. "Are you alright, my friend?"

"I'm fine. I'm worried about my family," she answered honestly, meeting his gaze with only a minimum of lower-lip-quivering. (By "family" she meant everyone she cared about, of course; she was too fond of pontificating on family being as much something one made as was born into.) "And I'll be worried about you. But your heart is with your brother and your people. I can't ask you not to follow it."

"Have you considered returning as well?" he asked. "Or is that where the warning comes from?"

"That's where it comes from," Gabrielle confirmed. "I tried getting home. I can't."

She chuckled, and this time it was a little strained. "Xena would want me out of danger anyway, I guess."

"I can understand her," he agreed and it was perhaps the only reason he did not suggest her to join him now. "But I imagine it does little to bring you peace. Perhaps I will not even manage to leave the island.

"Part of me hopes you don't," Gabrielle admitted. "I know what it would do to you if that happened, though. So all I can do is wish you the best of luck."

The same as it was doing to her and Faramir felt a little guilty. "I regret that I shall not be here to keep your mind of things."

Gabrielle reached up to put a hand against his cheek. "I'm going to be all right. I promise. I don't think I'm going to run out of things to keep me distracted any time soon. You don't need to add that to all your concerns right now."

He reached up, covering her hand with his and he leaned his head into the touch. "And you will manage to remember that you are a good friend? The best one could wish for?"

Gabrielle smiled shakily at that choice of words; memory was such a tricky thing for so many people right now.

"Always," she promised, though, in her most serious voice. "I'll never forget that. And as for you -- don't you ever forget that you're as great a man as your brother as far as I'm concerned, all right?"

Faramir smiled a little, and even if he would never truly believe that about himself, he could appreciate the sentiment. "He is not nearly as good of a story teller as I am," he agreed.

Gabrielle sniffled; she couldn't help it.

"Exactly. And you know how much I value that skill."

"I do," Faramir agreed and he reached up to touch her cheek. "I expect many new stories for you to tell me when I return."

Gabrielle let her eyes drift shut as she leaned into his hand. "I'll even write them down on special scrolls, just for you -- but I'll tell them to you, too. They're better that way."

"They are," he whispered, rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone. He was struggling for words as he watched her, anything that came to mind felt as if he were not coming back and Faramir did not want to let that feeling win.

"But it will be good to have them to read as well. For when you have grown tired of talking." Not that this was likely to ever happen.

"You think I'm going to lose my touch, do you?" Gabrielle protested with a weak laugh, miming a shove at his chest that never connected. "How else are you supposed to take them home to share?"

"I would not dream of it!" Faramir laughed. "Perhaps I shall have them translated so they can be added to the archives in Minas Tirith."

If that wasn't a storyteller's dream . . .

Gabrielle's eyes lit up. "I would be honored if you did. But first that means you have to make sure Minas Tirith is still around."

In other words, she actually did understand what the most important thing here was.

"I do," he moved his hand to her shoulder, squeezing gently. "And for that I should leave. It seems that they are keeping you on your feet here as it is."

"I still have feet to be kept on," Gabrielle pointed out with a slight smile. "But I shouldn't keep you, either. Take care of yourself, Faramir. I mean that."

"As long as you take care of yourself as well," he smiled at her as he stepped back. "You can laugh at me later if it turns out I can not make it back home. And otherwise, I shall miss you, my friend."

"I'll miss you too." Hopefully he wouldn't mind if Gabrielle just sort of clung for a moment before reluctantly letting go. "And if that happens I'll be laughing with you. Not at you."

Judging by the way his arms tightened around her in response, he probably didn't. But it was silly to try and hold on and he forced himself to smile.

"Namaarie. Aa' menealle nauva calen ar' malta," he spoke in Elvish. "Until next we meet." He bowed his head before he turned away.

Library, Wednesday [11/30]

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