Name
"Papa, look! Grandfather has come here now
To see the new one, my brand new brother!"
He heard the words with a scowl on his brow.
"Shhh. Be quiet or you'll wake your mother."
He greeted his father with a low bow,
And held out his son, all new and wrapped warm,
Idly wondering why he had come now.
Ecthelion smiled, "Son, feel not such alarm.
I want to see the child, that's why I came."
He held the babe, and looked at him with awe.
"He has the look of you. What is his name?"
"We wait for you to give it, for that's the law."
The elder man thought, then to him it came.
"He is Faramir, that will be his name!"
Denethor listened, he was stunned at this choice.
"Why give my son that name—'tis ill-fated!"
The words came slow, with a tremor-filled voice.
The Steward frowned, then spoke with breath bated.
"The burden of rule is heavy, my son.
It began with the death of one Faramir
Set down the burden now, let it be done,
With the birth of another, brother to Boromir.
Denethor saw then what meaning the words put forth.
With his son's birth would come that Ranger from the North!