Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.
Author's Note: More of Faramir with his children. One day I'll have to do something with the girls. Thanks to Mandi for betaing and getting me to write this quickly once I started.
Brothers
A wail cut through the patter of rain on the stone sills of the grand house. Faramir groaned, burying his face in his wife's hair. It smelled of pine and, well, horse. He was used to that.
"Your turn," Eowyn murmured, pushing her face further into the pillow.
"It is not," he replied.
"It is," she told him, "because I say it is."
"You are insufferable," Faramir muttered.
"Then it is good that I married you," Eowyn smiled but did not open her eyes and tugged more of the blankets away from him. "You suffer me gladly."
"What can I say?" Faramir murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek and untangling himself from the bedclothes. "You are good for me."
Eowyn chuckled then promptly went back to sleep, leaving her husband to look after their son. He shrugged on his robe as he left the spacious bedroom. The nursery for the Steward's children in their apartments in Minas Tirith had been a level below the master bedroom when Faramir had been a child. Since then the Steward's apartments had been vastly renovated. Faramir only had to walk through the open door into the adjoining room to enter the nursery.
He closed it behind him, giving his wife some peace, and crossed the crib. His baby was red faced and squalling.
"Shh..." Faramir whispered, lifting the child into his arms. "Shh, Theo, hush, papa's here."
The baby gave a watery wail, tiny fists flailing. Faramir began to walk him about the room, knowing it worked quickest to calm him. This was a routine. Theoan was a fitful, sickly baby, something Faramir and Eowyn were unused to and often worried about. Elboron had been a loud and demanding baby, but very healthy. Morwen had been quiet all her life. Theoan fretted constantly, and they worried about him.
But he quieted easily enough that night and Faramir settled into the rocking chair when Theoan did not protest the lessening of movement. Above all the baby seemed simply to enjoy being held.
Faramir did not mind it a bit. Children, he thought, grew all too fast. Why, he thought, could they not stay so very small and content for just a while longer?
Theoan gave a soft watery wail again, as if picking up on his father's mood. Just the one, before he yawned, and the fuzzy, unfocussed eyes of the infant closed. No further protest was uttered.
Faramir smiled just slightly. He always fretted so during the pregnancy and birthing. Worrying for his beloved wife, wondering with great fear if the little bundle to be placed in his arms would gather the same reaction in him as the previous child, a feeling of love and need to protect that nearly scared him with its intensity.
It had not failed with this babe either, with the tiny tufts of mother's white gold hair and her blue eyes. Those might change, he knew. His eldest son's had been blue at birth and then gone grey, but he did not think they would in his newest son, no, this one would take after his mother in looks.
Unlike their other two children who, so far, had a look of Gondor about them, despite Morwen's inheritance of her mother's blue eyes. Elboron... well, it became more apparent everyday to those who had known both Steward's sons as little scraps that he was very, very much like his namesake. Unchangeably, painfully like Boromir. Faramir could see it and Imrahil and Aragorn, who had known Boromir as a child, were caught in amazement at the similarities on occasion.
There had been one such moment earlier that day. Eomer was in the city, visiting to see his newest nephew, and, in an attempt to make sure his other little relatives did not feel excluded in all the fuss he had brought presents. A set of dolls for Morwen that Lothiriel had helped to craft and a wooden sword for Elboron who had taken to the gift with great gusto.
Faramir had seen his five year old son with the wooden sword and for a heartbeat seen his brother with his sword, then seen it shattered as he lay dying, blood painting his lips red and his grey eyes going dark. He had seen his son playing with a toy sword and had the overwhelming desire to wrench it away from the boy or fall to his knees in tears, clasping the child to his chest.
It had been his King's hand on his elbow that kept him from doing either. Eowyn and Eomer had not noticed him pale to the shade of winter snow nor spotted the look in his eyes that bordered on desperation.
Aragorn had noticed. He had not said anything for what could he say without alerting the others? He gave what support he could through the hand upon his arm and the steadying look in his grey eyes. Perhaps his King had shared his thoughts, perhaps he too had seen Boromir laying broken beneath the pale green glow of the forest's leaves upon the very edge of his homeland.
It steadied him and he summoned a brave shielding smile when Eowyn turned smiling eyes to him. She would not understand, he did not think, nor would Eomer for, beyond all other reasons, the carved toy sword was not new but had once, long ago, belonged to Theodred, their most beloved cousin. How did you protest such a gift?
He could not, so he had forced himself to feel joy, for his son did seem so pleased but all the while he had felt a cold band of fear across his heart that had not abated. He wondered what he would do if Elboron chose to follow in his namesake's footsteps and become a soldier and...he could not entertain any thoughts past that.
He looked down at the tiny life in his arms and felt an unexpected pang of terror. 'Please,' Faramir thought, 'Let me protect them. Let me be able to keep them safe.'
The scrape of the door against the stone floor stirred Faramir from his thoughts and he looked up to see a small face peek inside. Faramir smiled gently as his five year old son slipped inside and made sure to shut the door quietly behind him.
"You should be sleeping, little one," Faramir commented as Elboron came over and rested his head against his father's knee. Faramir spared a hand to stroke the boy's dark hair.
"Heard Theo crying," Elboron explained around a yawn.
"Ah." Faramir wondered at that. Elboron's room was down the hall a bit, he would share it with his brother eventually, so he should not have been able to hear the baby fussing but...Faramir supposed that if the window had been left open it could have been.
"Wanted to make sure he was okay," Elboron elaborated.
"That is very good of you, Boro," Faramir told him. "But you know you should be in bed."
"'M his big brother," Elboron replied, as if that explained everything.
"I had not forgotten that," Faramir told him warmly. Elboron's arms wrapped around his leg. "Here, child..."
It took a bit of very careful maneuvering but Elboron clamoured up into the rocking chair, his solid little body settling readily against his father, who cradled most of Theoan's body with a strong arm, the baby's blanket wrapped legs and feet in his big brother's lap.
Elboron nuzzled his face against his father's soft robe but otherwise stayed very still. He had held Theoan before, though only while sitting in his father's lap, and he knew that babies were very fragile.
At least even his eldest child had not outgrown hugs and cuddles yet, Faramir thought, an arm supporting both his sons. "You are a very good big brother already, Boro, but you are also a growing boy who needs his sleep. Your mother and I can take care of Theo at night."
"Just wanted to make sure," Elboron told his father, grey eyes looking at his sleeping little brother closely.
"I know," Faramir smiled indulgently. "And I promise to take good care of him."
"Okay, papa," Elboron said, yawning again. He cuddled a little closer. "Papa?"
"Yes, Boro?" Faramir replied, beginning to rock the chair gently, hoping to get his eldest son back to sleep without a fuss.
"Uncle Imrahil was telling me stories 'bout Uncle Boromir," Elboron said.
"Uncle Imrahil has some very good stories about Uncle Boromir," Faramir agreed.
"Uh huh. And he told me that..." There was another large yawn. "...that Uncle Boromir was your big brother and he used to protect you."
"He was and did," Faramir replied.
Elboron frowned a little, suddenly, "What did he have to protect you from, papa?"
Faramir opened his mouth, closed it, and thought wildly how he could explain Boromir's role in his life to his little child. He did not think he could, not yet, at least but...he smiled suddenly. "Particularly large waves."
"Like at Uncle Imrahil's?" Elboron asked. He had been to Dol Amroth before. He remembered how big the waves were at the beach there and how he had only been brave enough to go in them because he held tight to his father's chest as the spray from the waves hitting his father's back wooshed around them.
"Yes, like at Uncle Imrahil's," Faramir told him and if it was not the only wave Boromir had sought to protect him from...well, Elboron need not know it yet.
"Okay," Elboron said and was quiet for a time. Then, "Papa?"
"Yes, little one?"
"Can I be Theo's protector and big brother like Uncle Boromir was yours?"
For a moment Faramir forgot to breathe as laces of fear constricted across his heart. He wanted to tell his son no, not ever, for to Elboron to be to Theoan what Boromir had been to him...He did not want that, he did not, for their closeness had been forged by so much and little of it good.
And...Elboron was becoming so, so like his Boromir and...and to what end that would carry him Faramir could not know...
He looked down and found his son looking up at him, grey eyes so trusting. He swallowed back his pain and fear and tears, made easy for the love he felt for and found in his little boy. He managed a smile and found words to force past his lips.
"Every relationship differs some," Faramir managed steadily, "but you are Theo's big brother and I do not doubt you will too be his protector."
"Like Uncle Boromir," Elboron murmured, eyes closing, head resting sleepily against his father.
"Yes, like Boromir," Faramir whispered.
'Please, please, brother, I love you so very dearly but my son is not you. I do not wish my son to be you. Oh, Boromir...'
"Love you, papa," Elboron whispered, his voice soft and heavy with the sleep that was stealing over him again.
Faramir fought back his tears, wrestling them away ruthlessly for another time for they were not allowed here. He would not let them see his fear, he would not willingly let any see it. They were but children still, he need not fear for them, not like that, for years yet.
"I love you too, my Elboron," he replied. He looked at his baby. "And my Theoan too."
Elboron became a heavy weight against him as his little boy fell asleep again. Faramir remained very still, holding his children close, wishing wildly that he might be able to do so forever. The thought passed. He could not, none could, and he would not mar their joy for his fear. He would protect him as long as he may and then...well, what was joy without sorrow? To fly meant to risk falling and he would not have their wings clipped.
He thought to move then, for Elboron should be tucked back into bed and, also, his foot was falling asleep, but with his two sons cuddled against him movement was not an option, not unless he wanted to wake one and quite possibly both. There were worse things though, he thought, closing his eyes briefly, than sitting in a rocking chair and holding one's children close.
A soft chuckle drew his eyelids up and he smiled at his wife, her golden hair tousled and her eyes warm with lingering sleep. "You have been long and it has grown quiet. Shall I offer you a rescue?"
"It seems one is needed," Faramir replied, his smile slight and his face a bit paler than usual but unnoticed because of the dim lighting. "Shall you take the babe?"
Eowyn nodded and carefully gathered her smallest son in her arms. Theoan stirred a moment but seemed content enough to sleep as Eowyn settled him in his crib. Faramir hefted Elboron gently into his arms, dark head resting against his shoulder, and carried his son back to his own bed.
Eowyn was sitting in their bed, waiting for her husband and watching him with knowing eyes as he shucked off his robe and joined her. She put her hand upon his cheek before he had time to evade her. "Faramir?"
"I love them so fiercely," he murmured, grey eyes meeting hers.
"And you worry for them," Eowyn said.
"Yes," Faramir replied. He yawned and Eowyn laughed quietly.
"But you are tired, my husband, and we both know tomorrow will come early," Eowyn said. "Perhaps then, we shall speak further of this and of why it pains you so to see our son with a wooden sword?"
Faramir flushed. Eowyn smiled gently. "You are my love, Faramir, I noticed."
She kissed him, and they laid curled together, Eowyn's fingers trailing over his cheek with a feather light touch. Faramir sighed, his arms tightening about her, and, slowly, he again found sleep.
Author's Note: More of Faramir with his children. One day I'll have to do something with the girls. Thanks to Mandi for betaing and getting me to write this quickly once I started.
Brothers
A wail cut through the patter of rain on the stone sills of the grand house. Faramir groaned, burying his face in his wife's hair. It smelled of pine and, well, horse. He was used to that.
"Your turn," Eowyn murmured, pushing her face further into the pillow.
"It is not," he replied.
"It is," she told him, "because I say it is."
"You are insufferable," Faramir muttered.
"Then it is good that I married you," Eowyn smiled but did not open her eyes and tugged more of the blankets away from him. "You suffer me gladly."
"What can I say?" Faramir murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek and untangling himself from the bedclothes. "You are good for me."
Eowyn chuckled then promptly went back to sleep, leaving her husband to look after their son. He shrugged on his robe as he left the spacious bedroom. The nursery for the Steward's children in their apartments in Minas Tirith had been a level below the master bedroom when Faramir had been a child. Since then the Steward's apartments had been vastly renovated. Faramir only had to walk through the open door into the adjoining room to enter the nursery.
He closed it behind him, giving his wife some peace, and crossed the crib. His baby was red faced and squalling.
"Shh..." Faramir whispered, lifting the child into his arms. "Shh, Theo, hush, papa's here."
The baby gave a watery wail, tiny fists flailing. Faramir began to walk him about the room, knowing it worked quickest to calm him. This was a routine. Theoan was a fitful, sickly baby, something Faramir and Eowyn were unused to and often worried about. Elboron had been a loud and demanding baby, but very healthy. Morwen had been quiet all her life. Theoan fretted constantly, and they worried about him.
But he quieted easily enough that night and Faramir settled into the rocking chair when Theoan did not protest the lessening of movement. Above all the baby seemed simply to enjoy being held.
Faramir did not mind it a bit. Children, he thought, grew all too fast. Why, he thought, could they not stay so very small and content for just a while longer?
Theoan gave a soft watery wail again, as if picking up on his father's mood. Just the one, before he yawned, and the fuzzy, unfocussed eyes of the infant closed. No further protest was uttered.
Faramir smiled just slightly. He always fretted so during the pregnancy and birthing. Worrying for his beloved wife, wondering with great fear if the little bundle to be placed in his arms would gather the same reaction in him as the previous child, a feeling of love and need to protect that nearly scared him with its intensity.
It had not failed with this babe either, with the tiny tufts of mother's white gold hair and her blue eyes. Those might change, he knew. His eldest son's had been blue at birth and then gone grey, but he did not think they would in his newest son, no, this one would take after his mother in looks.
Unlike their other two children who, so far, had a look of Gondor about them, despite Morwen's inheritance of her mother's blue eyes. Elboron... well, it became more apparent everyday to those who had known both Steward's sons as little scraps that he was very, very much like his namesake. Unchangeably, painfully like Boromir. Faramir could see it and Imrahil and Aragorn, who had known Boromir as a child, were caught in amazement at the similarities on occasion.
There had been one such moment earlier that day. Eomer was in the city, visiting to see his newest nephew, and, in an attempt to make sure his other little relatives did not feel excluded in all the fuss he had brought presents. A set of dolls for Morwen that Lothiriel had helped to craft and a wooden sword for Elboron who had taken to the gift with great gusto.
Faramir had seen his five year old son with the wooden sword and for a heartbeat seen his brother with his sword, then seen it shattered as he lay dying, blood painting his lips red and his grey eyes going dark. He had seen his son playing with a toy sword and had the overwhelming desire to wrench it away from the boy or fall to his knees in tears, clasping the child to his chest.
It had been his King's hand on his elbow that kept him from doing either. Eowyn and Eomer had not noticed him pale to the shade of winter snow nor spotted the look in his eyes that bordered on desperation.
Aragorn had noticed. He had not said anything for what could he say without alerting the others? He gave what support he could through the hand upon his arm and the steadying look in his grey eyes. Perhaps his King had shared his thoughts, perhaps he too had seen Boromir laying broken beneath the pale green glow of the forest's leaves upon the very edge of his homeland.
It steadied him and he summoned a brave shielding smile when Eowyn turned smiling eyes to him. She would not understand, he did not think, nor would Eomer for, beyond all other reasons, the carved toy sword was not new but had once, long ago, belonged to Theodred, their most beloved cousin. How did you protest such a gift?
He could not, so he had forced himself to feel joy, for his son did seem so pleased but all the while he had felt a cold band of fear across his heart that had not abated. He wondered what he would do if Elboron chose to follow in his namesake's footsteps and become a soldier and...he could not entertain any thoughts past that.
He looked down at the tiny life in his arms and felt an unexpected pang of terror. 'Please,' Faramir thought, 'Let me protect them. Let me be able to keep them safe.'
The scrape of the door against the stone floor stirred Faramir from his thoughts and he looked up to see a small face peek inside. Faramir smiled gently as his five year old son slipped inside and made sure to shut the door quietly behind him.
"You should be sleeping, little one," Faramir commented as Elboron came over and rested his head against his father's knee. Faramir spared a hand to stroke the boy's dark hair.
"Heard Theo crying," Elboron explained around a yawn.
"Ah." Faramir wondered at that. Elboron's room was down the hall a bit, he would share it with his brother eventually, so he should not have been able to hear the baby fussing but...Faramir supposed that if the window had been left open it could have been.
"Wanted to make sure he was okay," Elboron elaborated.
"That is very good of you, Boro," Faramir told him. "But you know you should be in bed."
"'M his big brother," Elboron replied, as if that explained everything.
"I had not forgotten that," Faramir told him warmly. Elboron's arms wrapped around his leg. "Here, child..."
It took a bit of very careful maneuvering but Elboron clamoured up into the rocking chair, his solid little body settling readily against his father, who cradled most of Theoan's body with a strong arm, the baby's blanket wrapped legs and feet in his big brother's lap.
Elboron nuzzled his face against his father's soft robe but otherwise stayed very still. He had held Theoan before, though only while sitting in his father's lap, and he knew that babies were very fragile.
At least even his eldest child had not outgrown hugs and cuddles yet, Faramir thought, an arm supporting both his sons. "You are a very good big brother already, Boro, but you are also a growing boy who needs his sleep. Your mother and I can take care of Theo at night."
"Just wanted to make sure," Elboron told his father, grey eyes looking at his sleeping little brother closely.
"I know," Faramir smiled indulgently. "And I promise to take good care of him."
"Okay, papa," Elboron said, yawning again. He cuddled a little closer. "Papa?"
"Yes, Boro?" Faramir replied, beginning to rock the chair gently, hoping to get his eldest son back to sleep without a fuss.
"Uncle Imrahil was telling me stories 'bout Uncle Boromir," Elboron said.
"Uncle Imrahil has some very good stories about Uncle Boromir," Faramir agreed.
"Uh huh. And he told me that..." There was another large yawn. "...that Uncle Boromir was your big brother and he used to protect you."
"He was and did," Faramir replied.
Elboron frowned a little, suddenly, "What did he have to protect you from, papa?"
Faramir opened his mouth, closed it, and thought wildly how he could explain Boromir's role in his life to his little child. He did not think he could, not yet, at least but...he smiled suddenly. "Particularly large waves."
"Like at Uncle Imrahil's?" Elboron asked. He had been to Dol Amroth before. He remembered how big the waves were at the beach there and how he had only been brave enough to go in them because he held tight to his father's chest as the spray from the waves hitting his father's back wooshed around them.
"Yes, like at Uncle Imrahil's," Faramir told him and if it was not the only wave Boromir had sought to protect him from...well, Elboron need not know it yet.
"Okay," Elboron said and was quiet for a time. Then, "Papa?"
"Yes, little one?"
"Can I be Theo's protector and big brother like Uncle Boromir was yours?"
For a moment Faramir forgot to breathe as laces of fear constricted across his heart. He wanted to tell his son no, not ever, for to Elboron to be to Theoan what Boromir had been to him...He did not want that, he did not, for their closeness had been forged by so much and little of it good.
And...Elboron was becoming so, so like his Boromir and...and to what end that would carry him Faramir could not know...
He looked down and found his son looking up at him, grey eyes so trusting. He swallowed back his pain and fear and tears, made easy for the love he felt for and found in his little boy. He managed a smile and found words to force past his lips.
"Every relationship differs some," Faramir managed steadily, "but you are Theo's big brother and I do not doubt you will too be his protector."
"Like Uncle Boromir," Elboron murmured, eyes closing, head resting sleepily against his father.
"Yes, like Boromir," Faramir whispered.
'Please, please, brother, I love you so very dearly but my son is not you. I do not wish my son to be you. Oh, Boromir...'
"Love you, papa," Elboron whispered, his voice soft and heavy with the sleep that was stealing over him again.
Faramir fought back his tears, wrestling them away ruthlessly for another time for they were not allowed here. He would not let them see his fear, he would not willingly let any see it. They were but children still, he need not fear for them, not like that, for years yet.
"I love you too, my Elboron," he replied. He looked at his baby. "And my Theoan too."
Elboron became a heavy weight against him as his little boy fell asleep again. Faramir remained very still, holding his children close, wishing wildly that he might be able to do so forever. The thought passed. He could not, none could, and he would not mar their joy for his fear. He would protect him as long as he may and then...well, what was joy without sorrow? To fly meant to risk falling and he would not have their wings clipped.
He thought to move then, for Elboron should be tucked back into bed and, also, his foot was falling asleep, but with his two sons cuddled against him movement was not an option, not unless he wanted to wake one and quite possibly both. There were worse things though, he thought, closing his eyes briefly, than sitting in a rocking chair and holding one's children close.
A soft chuckle drew his eyelids up and he smiled at his wife, her golden hair tousled and her eyes warm with lingering sleep. "You have been long and it has grown quiet. Shall I offer you a rescue?"
"It seems one is needed," Faramir replied, his smile slight and his face a bit paler than usual but unnoticed because of the dim lighting. "Shall you take the babe?"
Eowyn nodded and carefully gathered her smallest son in her arms. Theoan stirred a moment but seemed content enough to sleep as Eowyn settled him in his crib. Faramir hefted Elboron gently into his arms, dark head resting against his shoulder, and carried his son back to his own bed.
Eowyn was sitting in their bed, waiting for her husband and watching him with knowing eyes as he shucked off his robe and joined her. She put her hand upon his cheek before he had time to evade her. "Faramir?"
"I love them so fiercely," he murmured, grey eyes meeting hers.
"And you worry for them," Eowyn said.
"Yes," Faramir replied. He yawned and Eowyn laughed quietly.
"But you are tired, my husband, and we both know tomorrow will come early," Eowyn said. "Perhaps then, we shall speak further of this and of why it pains you so to see our son with a wooden sword?"
Faramir flushed. Eowyn smiled gently. "You are my love, Faramir, I noticed."
She kissed him, and they laid curled together, Eowyn's fingers trailing over his cheek with a feather light touch. Faramir sighed, his arms tightening about her, and, slowly, he again found sleep.