Disclaimer: Tolkien owns Middle-earth and all it's inhabitants including
Faramir, Boromir, Minas Tirith, etc. I sadly own nothing-_-
Summary: Boromir and Faramir when they were younger
Author's Note: This fic takes place in Minas Tirith when Boromir and Faramir are young so Boromir would be about 9 and Faramir about 4. Finduilas has not yet died and Denethor already shows favoritism towards Boromir. My second fic so please review and constructive criticism is welcome. There might be some problems with punctuation. Take note that I'm young and Language Arts is my *worst* subject
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Books and Stars, Swords and Men
Chapter 1: Mornings
It was a sunny morning in Minas Tirith when Faramir woke up. He looked out the window and smiled, it would be a great day to go outside. Getting out of bed he went across the room to where his clothes were chosen and laid out for him. After finishing getting dressed Faramir went to the door that connected his room to his brother's. Entering his brother's room Faramir found that he was still in bed. Walking towards his brother's still form Faramir found that his brother was actually awake and just laying there. That was unusual of Boromir for he would normally wake and dress quickly so he could watch some of the soldiers practice sooner. Climbing onto his brother's bed Faramir tilted his head slightly to the side with a questioning look on his face.
Boromir smiled as his younger brother gave him a look that clearly stated 'why are you still in bed?' Boromir sat up and said, "I was just thinking about something."
"Oh," Faramir said as his head automatically returned to its normal position, "what were you thinking about?"
"Things," Boromir responded simply as he got out of bed and got dressed.
"Ohhhh." Faramir said with a tone of understanding as he went to stand next to his brother, "what things?"
"You know, things" Boromir replied with the smallest bit of impatience.
"Like.?"
"Like things you won't understand" Boromir responded with growing impatience as he opened the door to the hallway.
"Oh, like.?"
"Like what I shall eat for breakfast."
"What's not to understand about breakfast? Breakfast is breakfast and breakfast means eating and eating means food."
".And what father will say if we are late for breakfast."
Faramir immediately fell silent and quickened his pace, which didn't make much difference to Boromir since his long legs could certainly keep up with Faramir's shorter ones.
In truth Boromir wasn't thinking about breakfast, he was thinking of soldiers, battle and war. He was 9 years old and he had been taught simple swordplay. But just the other day he had heard the arms master speaking of him, of how his father had planned on having him learn true swordplay in the near future. He had heard that his father planned for him to begin when he was about 10. But 10 was still a young age to begin learning, Boromir guessed that his father wanted him to be ready soon. Or it could be the fact that he was the swiftest and strongest in his age group. He had always dreamed of glory on the battlefield for men were often praised for their prowess in war and battle. War is approaching; Boromir had heard the soldiers talking about the growing darkness of Mordor. If war broke out it would most probably occur in his time and he was worried or was it fear? 'No, it is not fear, for only weak and lesser men fear' Boromir repeated in his mind.
Boromir suddenly noticed that Faramir had become silent. He had always wondered why was it that their father would make his younger brother tense or stiffen under his gaze. Sure many lesser men would feel intimidated by the Steward's piercing glance but surely the sons of the Steward needn't feel as a lesser man in their own father's presence. Boromir admitted that he felt intimidated sometimes when his father would stare into his eyes when he was younger but that was only when he got into trouble. Now he could stand next to his father without tension but relaxed. But Faramir always seemed to tense a little when their father merely glanced at him for a while and Boromir wondered at that. Why would Faramir seem intimidated in the strict presence of their father? He never got into trouble with his teachers or any other adults so why would he feel uncomfortable? Could it be their father's rank or was it that Faramir felt as he was being read. Many of Boromir's playmates say that their fathers say that the Steward could read minds. Boromir never believed this because it seemed impossible to him that someone could read the hearts of men. His trail of thought came to an abrupt stop as they reached the family's dining hall.
The dining hall was a vast room for the Steward and his family and on rare occasions guests would arrive. These guests would include Prince Adrahir of Dol Amroth, Finduilas' father, along with her other family members, and sometimes nobles from other lands. There were three large windows along the west wall filling the room with light. Two walls held the entrances, the main entrance had wooden double doors and was upon the east wall, and the south wall held the side entrance in which the servants and handmaidens entered and exited, and the north wall was bare except for several paintings.
As the two brothers entered the hall they nodded their heads once in unison as a greeting to their father. Denethor looked upon his eldest with a certain pride as Boromir gave a nod in respect and greeting to his father with his back straight. His elder son had always carried himself confidently in front of lesser folk, which was his right as the son of the Steward. His gaze turned to his younger son, Faramir. Denethor looked at his second son with no emotion noticeable, he turned his head away as Faramir seemed almost to squirm under his steady gaze. It wasn't that Denethor truly disliked his second son it just seemed to him that Faramir was weak, ever delighting in tales of old, lore, history, languages, music, art and anything that could be found in books. Whereas Boromir enjoyed tales of heroes, battles, heroic deeds and strength. His sons contrasted much and ever would he look upon his firstborn with pride. He watched his sons as they seated themselves at the table after greeting their mother, Finduilas.
Finduilas watched as her two sons greeted their father. Boromir held his back straight and head held high under his father's strict gaze. But Faramir seemed almost uncomfortable under their father's gaze. Her sons seated themselves at the table, Boromir on his father's right side and Faramir upon her left side. She turned to Boromir and smiled, "had you a good night's rest Boromir?"
Boromir turned to his mother, "Yes, I did."
Finduilas turned to Faramir, "and you Faramir?"
"Yes," Faramir answered his mother in a small voice and under his father's gaze.
Denethor watched the small exchange between mother and sons. He watched Boromir, a tall and strong boy for his age with dark hair and gray eyes answer confidently, and then he watched as his younger son answer more timidly. Denethor was not pleased with Faramir's timid voice; it almost made him seem weak and how could a weak person earn respect from his people. As the second son of the Steward, Faramir would have a position as an advisor to Boromir and needed to maintain appearances. But Denethor knew it was still early to judge, he couldn't help it if Faramir took after his mother in terms of appreciation and after him in mind. Yes, Denethor knew that Faramir would be a speculative child as soon as he was born and he looked into his eyes and he knew that this child would be like him in mind. Hence the name Faramir, speculative jewel. Faramir was a slender child with a slightly rounded face as with most children his age. Well, Faramir might become a stronger person in the future it was still too early to tell. Boromir on the other hand would make a great warrior; Denethor had planned for his training in swordplay when he reached 10 and his enrollment into the army by 15. The boy was already showing an interest in the art of battle, which was a good thing Denethor thought.
After the family had done the traditional custom of looking west in the direction of lost Numenor and began eating Faramir noticed that his brother had become extremely quiet when he was normally talking about the soldiers. Was his older brother thinking like he was thinking this morning? Probably so Faramir thought, and he wondered if his parents had noticed the awkward quiet in the dining hall.
Boromir was thinking, about soldiers and if he would live up to his father's expectations. He was oblivious to the fact that the room had gone quiet and that his younger brother would occasionally look at him from across the table.
Denethor had noticed that Boromir had suddenly become silent; he looked into Boromir's eyes to see if there was any trace of emotion. What Denethor read in his eyes shocked him. There was apprehension, anxiousness, worry and a trace of doubt that was etched into his face and his eyes and expression showed it. Denethor wondered what would trouble his elder son, there was really nothing he could think of. Could it be Faramir? Boromir was always protective of his younger brother and would defend him at any time if need be. Assignments? Denethor knew how Boromir despised learning the history of Gondor and Numenor but he was never really distressed enough to show it. Sure he would complain that his assignments and lessons would be boring and pointless but he had never really been that distressed unless if he got into serious trouble and was scolded. He didn't get into trouble did he? No, there was no guilt in his expression. Whatever it was Boromir would probably tell him about it eventually so all he needed to do was wait.
Finduilas had also noticed that Boromir had gone silent and was curious about it. "Boromir, is there anything wrong? You seem considerably quiet today."
"No, there is nothing wrong I am just a bit tired."
"I thought you said you had had a good night's rest."
"Oh, I did I just slept a bit later than I normally would," Boromir replied with a half-truth.
"And may I ask why you slept later than you normally would?" Denethor asked as he entered the conversation.
"I was in bed when I should have been but I was thinking about the story that mother had told me last night, about Turin Turambar."
Faramir glanced at his brother with a look saying 'that's not what you told me.'
Faramir's glance unfortunately did not go unnoticed by his father. "Faramir," Denethor began watching his second son raise his head and look at his father, "do you know anything of Turin Turambar?" To his own surprise Faramir answered his father with a steady voice. "I know that he the son of Hurin and Morwen and was great fighter and considered a hero to many. He was also given many names such as Neithan, Gorthol, Wildman of the Woods and such others."
Boromir looked upon his younger brother in shock, no not shock more like amazement. He hadn't known the story of Turin until two years ago and had asked his mother to tell his tale to him. How would his brother, a child of 4, know about Turin already? And where did he hear the tale. Boromir was about to ask but his father had beaten him to it.
"And may I ask how you came across this information?" Denethor directed the question to Faramir. To Faramir the question sounded as if his father was accusing him of knowing. " I read it in a book, a book that mother gave me of tales of old," he responded in a soft but distinguishable voice.
Finduilas had listened to the conversation between her husband and sons in silence. When Faramir had mentioned that he knew the story of Turin she was not at all surprised for he would devour a large book of lost tales within a day if allowed, he would do the same for a book of poetry or elven lore. He could already read Sindarin, and was showing a knack for learning languages. She wouldn't be surprised if he had asked her to teach him other languages. She was drawn out of her reverie when her husband directed a question to her.
"Finduilas, which Book of Tales was Faramir referring to?"
"The book that I read when I was younger," she wondered what could possibly be wrong in giving a child a book of tales in which to let their imaginations wander.
Denethor nodded and the family finished their meal. The two brothers took their leave and Finduilas questioned her husband, "what is wrong with giving Faramir the book?"
"I did not say anything was wrong I just thought that he was still young to be reading those sorts of tales."
A/N: Short I know but I kind of wanted to divide this into chapters, for what reason I honestly don't know. This is my second fic and Faramir is my favorite character. Sorry if I made the brothers a bit mature for their age and I'm also sorry for any punctuation, grammar, etc, problems. Also sorry for if the story is confusing (as in change of tenses without warning). I also have a bunch of other apologies and I apologize right now.
Summary: Boromir and Faramir when they were younger
Author's Note: This fic takes place in Minas Tirith when Boromir and Faramir are young so Boromir would be about 9 and Faramir about 4. Finduilas has not yet died and Denethor already shows favoritism towards Boromir. My second fic so please review and constructive criticism is welcome. There might be some problems with punctuation. Take note that I'm young and Language Arts is my *worst* subject
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Books and Stars, Swords and Men
Chapter 1: Mornings
It was a sunny morning in Minas Tirith when Faramir woke up. He looked out the window and smiled, it would be a great day to go outside. Getting out of bed he went across the room to where his clothes were chosen and laid out for him. After finishing getting dressed Faramir went to the door that connected his room to his brother's. Entering his brother's room Faramir found that he was still in bed. Walking towards his brother's still form Faramir found that his brother was actually awake and just laying there. That was unusual of Boromir for he would normally wake and dress quickly so he could watch some of the soldiers practice sooner. Climbing onto his brother's bed Faramir tilted his head slightly to the side with a questioning look on his face.
Boromir smiled as his younger brother gave him a look that clearly stated 'why are you still in bed?' Boromir sat up and said, "I was just thinking about something."
"Oh," Faramir said as his head automatically returned to its normal position, "what were you thinking about?"
"Things," Boromir responded simply as he got out of bed and got dressed.
"Ohhhh." Faramir said with a tone of understanding as he went to stand next to his brother, "what things?"
"You know, things" Boromir replied with the smallest bit of impatience.
"Like.?"
"Like things you won't understand" Boromir responded with growing impatience as he opened the door to the hallway.
"Oh, like.?"
"Like what I shall eat for breakfast."
"What's not to understand about breakfast? Breakfast is breakfast and breakfast means eating and eating means food."
".And what father will say if we are late for breakfast."
Faramir immediately fell silent and quickened his pace, which didn't make much difference to Boromir since his long legs could certainly keep up with Faramir's shorter ones.
In truth Boromir wasn't thinking about breakfast, he was thinking of soldiers, battle and war. He was 9 years old and he had been taught simple swordplay. But just the other day he had heard the arms master speaking of him, of how his father had planned on having him learn true swordplay in the near future. He had heard that his father planned for him to begin when he was about 10. But 10 was still a young age to begin learning, Boromir guessed that his father wanted him to be ready soon. Or it could be the fact that he was the swiftest and strongest in his age group. He had always dreamed of glory on the battlefield for men were often praised for their prowess in war and battle. War is approaching; Boromir had heard the soldiers talking about the growing darkness of Mordor. If war broke out it would most probably occur in his time and he was worried or was it fear? 'No, it is not fear, for only weak and lesser men fear' Boromir repeated in his mind.
Boromir suddenly noticed that Faramir had become silent. He had always wondered why was it that their father would make his younger brother tense or stiffen under his gaze. Sure many lesser men would feel intimidated by the Steward's piercing glance but surely the sons of the Steward needn't feel as a lesser man in their own father's presence. Boromir admitted that he felt intimidated sometimes when his father would stare into his eyes when he was younger but that was only when he got into trouble. Now he could stand next to his father without tension but relaxed. But Faramir always seemed to tense a little when their father merely glanced at him for a while and Boromir wondered at that. Why would Faramir seem intimidated in the strict presence of their father? He never got into trouble with his teachers or any other adults so why would he feel uncomfortable? Could it be their father's rank or was it that Faramir felt as he was being read. Many of Boromir's playmates say that their fathers say that the Steward could read minds. Boromir never believed this because it seemed impossible to him that someone could read the hearts of men. His trail of thought came to an abrupt stop as they reached the family's dining hall.
The dining hall was a vast room for the Steward and his family and on rare occasions guests would arrive. These guests would include Prince Adrahir of Dol Amroth, Finduilas' father, along with her other family members, and sometimes nobles from other lands. There were three large windows along the west wall filling the room with light. Two walls held the entrances, the main entrance had wooden double doors and was upon the east wall, and the south wall held the side entrance in which the servants and handmaidens entered and exited, and the north wall was bare except for several paintings.
As the two brothers entered the hall they nodded their heads once in unison as a greeting to their father. Denethor looked upon his eldest with a certain pride as Boromir gave a nod in respect and greeting to his father with his back straight. His elder son had always carried himself confidently in front of lesser folk, which was his right as the son of the Steward. His gaze turned to his younger son, Faramir. Denethor looked at his second son with no emotion noticeable, he turned his head away as Faramir seemed almost to squirm under his steady gaze. It wasn't that Denethor truly disliked his second son it just seemed to him that Faramir was weak, ever delighting in tales of old, lore, history, languages, music, art and anything that could be found in books. Whereas Boromir enjoyed tales of heroes, battles, heroic deeds and strength. His sons contrasted much and ever would he look upon his firstborn with pride. He watched his sons as they seated themselves at the table after greeting their mother, Finduilas.
Finduilas watched as her two sons greeted their father. Boromir held his back straight and head held high under his father's strict gaze. But Faramir seemed almost uncomfortable under their father's gaze. Her sons seated themselves at the table, Boromir on his father's right side and Faramir upon her left side. She turned to Boromir and smiled, "had you a good night's rest Boromir?"
Boromir turned to his mother, "Yes, I did."
Finduilas turned to Faramir, "and you Faramir?"
"Yes," Faramir answered his mother in a small voice and under his father's gaze.
Denethor watched the small exchange between mother and sons. He watched Boromir, a tall and strong boy for his age with dark hair and gray eyes answer confidently, and then he watched as his younger son answer more timidly. Denethor was not pleased with Faramir's timid voice; it almost made him seem weak and how could a weak person earn respect from his people. As the second son of the Steward, Faramir would have a position as an advisor to Boromir and needed to maintain appearances. But Denethor knew it was still early to judge, he couldn't help it if Faramir took after his mother in terms of appreciation and after him in mind. Yes, Denethor knew that Faramir would be a speculative child as soon as he was born and he looked into his eyes and he knew that this child would be like him in mind. Hence the name Faramir, speculative jewel. Faramir was a slender child with a slightly rounded face as with most children his age. Well, Faramir might become a stronger person in the future it was still too early to tell. Boromir on the other hand would make a great warrior; Denethor had planned for his training in swordplay when he reached 10 and his enrollment into the army by 15. The boy was already showing an interest in the art of battle, which was a good thing Denethor thought.
After the family had done the traditional custom of looking west in the direction of lost Numenor and began eating Faramir noticed that his brother had become extremely quiet when he was normally talking about the soldiers. Was his older brother thinking like he was thinking this morning? Probably so Faramir thought, and he wondered if his parents had noticed the awkward quiet in the dining hall.
Boromir was thinking, about soldiers and if he would live up to his father's expectations. He was oblivious to the fact that the room had gone quiet and that his younger brother would occasionally look at him from across the table.
Denethor had noticed that Boromir had suddenly become silent; he looked into Boromir's eyes to see if there was any trace of emotion. What Denethor read in his eyes shocked him. There was apprehension, anxiousness, worry and a trace of doubt that was etched into his face and his eyes and expression showed it. Denethor wondered what would trouble his elder son, there was really nothing he could think of. Could it be Faramir? Boromir was always protective of his younger brother and would defend him at any time if need be. Assignments? Denethor knew how Boromir despised learning the history of Gondor and Numenor but he was never really distressed enough to show it. Sure he would complain that his assignments and lessons would be boring and pointless but he had never really been that distressed unless if he got into serious trouble and was scolded. He didn't get into trouble did he? No, there was no guilt in his expression. Whatever it was Boromir would probably tell him about it eventually so all he needed to do was wait.
Finduilas had also noticed that Boromir had gone silent and was curious about it. "Boromir, is there anything wrong? You seem considerably quiet today."
"No, there is nothing wrong I am just a bit tired."
"I thought you said you had had a good night's rest."
"Oh, I did I just slept a bit later than I normally would," Boromir replied with a half-truth.
"And may I ask why you slept later than you normally would?" Denethor asked as he entered the conversation.
"I was in bed when I should have been but I was thinking about the story that mother had told me last night, about Turin Turambar."
Faramir glanced at his brother with a look saying 'that's not what you told me.'
Faramir's glance unfortunately did not go unnoticed by his father. "Faramir," Denethor began watching his second son raise his head and look at his father, "do you know anything of Turin Turambar?" To his own surprise Faramir answered his father with a steady voice. "I know that he the son of Hurin and Morwen and was great fighter and considered a hero to many. He was also given many names such as Neithan, Gorthol, Wildman of the Woods and such others."
Boromir looked upon his younger brother in shock, no not shock more like amazement. He hadn't known the story of Turin until two years ago and had asked his mother to tell his tale to him. How would his brother, a child of 4, know about Turin already? And where did he hear the tale. Boromir was about to ask but his father had beaten him to it.
"And may I ask how you came across this information?" Denethor directed the question to Faramir. To Faramir the question sounded as if his father was accusing him of knowing. " I read it in a book, a book that mother gave me of tales of old," he responded in a soft but distinguishable voice.
Finduilas had listened to the conversation between her husband and sons in silence. When Faramir had mentioned that he knew the story of Turin she was not at all surprised for he would devour a large book of lost tales within a day if allowed, he would do the same for a book of poetry or elven lore. He could already read Sindarin, and was showing a knack for learning languages. She wouldn't be surprised if he had asked her to teach him other languages. She was drawn out of her reverie when her husband directed a question to her.
"Finduilas, which Book of Tales was Faramir referring to?"
"The book that I read when I was younger," she wondered what could possibly be wrong in giving a child a book of tales in which to let their imaginations wander.
Denethor nodded and the family finished their meal. The two brothers took their leave and Finduilas questioned her husband, "what is wrong with giving Faramir the book?"
"I did not say anything was wrong I just thought that he was still young to be reading those sorts of tales."
A/N: Short I know but I kind of wanted to divide this into chapters, for what reason I honestly don't know. This is my second fic and Faramir is my favorite character. Sorry if I made the brothers a bit mature for their age and I'm also sorry for any punctuation, grammar, etc, problems. Also sorry for if the story is confusing (as in change of tenses without warning). I also have a bunch of other apologies and I apologize right now.