Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or names from the Lord of the Rings; the great J.R.R. Tolkien (and his estate) does. Characters that are not in the Lord of the Rings are of my own invention.
October 10th, 2985 of the Third Age
"Boromir!" cried out a little boy in a grand white stone corridor. "Boromir where you?" he cried again. The little boy started running as best he could down the hall, his shoulder length, dark blond hair flowing behind him. "Boromir! Where you?" he cried once more.
"Faramir!" called out a young voice teasingly, "Can't you find me?" The sound of the voice echoed all around the stone hall, which confused the young Faramir.
"Where you?" cried out Faramir. A pair of small but strong hands grabbed Faramir's shoulders. The young boy shrieked and jerked away from the grip.
" Here I am!" said Boromir, who grinned when Faramir spun around to see who grabbed him.
"Don't!" exclaimed Faramir angrily. "I looked everywhere for you! Mama is very sick!"
"Of course she is you silly goose!" said Boromir, bending down to look Faramir in the eyes. " She told us several months ago that we would be getting a brother or sister around this time."
"Come on! Mama very sick!" exclaimed Faramir, agitated by his big brother. He grabbed his brother's hand and tried to pull him along, but failed. His brother - five years older - was also much larger. "Come on!" he exclaimed again.
Just then the door burst open on the west side of the hall. In strode a somewhat elderly woman in a long, unadorned, dark blue gown.
"Where have you two been?" she exclaimed as she came over and picked up Faramir. "It's not safe for a two year-old to be wandering about the halls. And you, young sir," she said as she took Boromir's hand, "have studies to attend to."
She led them down several hallways through the House of the Stewards. The late morning light glared through the windows and reflected off the white marble, illuminating the halls.
Suddenly a door slammed behind the three of them. "Miluiemel! The Lady Findulias has requested you come immediately!" a young servant girl exclaimed as she came running up to them.
"What of Boromir and Faramir?" asked Miluiemel.
"I will bring them, as the Lady Findulias has requested you to come as soon as possible," replied the young girl. She took Boromir and Faramir by the hand as Miluiemel strode briskly away. "Come, you two rascals, your father has requested your presence," she said, leading them in the direction Miluiemel had gone.
She led them into a grand marble chamber where a middle-aged man sat. He wore a rich black velvet tunic and robe, embroidered with silver, hung loosely on his well-knit frame. His long black hair, with streaks of grey and white, cascaded over his shoulders.
"Here are your sons, Lord Denethor," said she.
"Thank you girl," he said sternly, his grey eyes coldly glancing up at her.
The young girl let go of the boys hands, bowed, and walked out.
Once she left, the man's face softened a bit, and he gave a small smile. "Come here my sons," he said, beckoning with his hands for them to come forward.
The two brothers ran to their father. Boromir climbed up onto his father's right knee, and Faramir attempted to do the same on his father's left but couldn't. Their father smiled gently and reached down and picked up Faramir, putting him on his left knee.
"So what do you hope your new sibling will be? Hmm?" asked Denethor. "Do you want another brother or a sister?"
"I hope we get another brother," said Boromir enthusiastically.
"I hope we get sister," said Faramir with just as much enthusiasm.
"I think you mean, 'I hope we get a sister' Faramir." said Denethor, gently correcting his son.
Faramir nodded sheepishly.
Denethor smiled at his two sons. "Either way, you two will have new responsibilities. If you get a brother, then you will need to help train him in sword fighting and shooting when he gets older." said their father. "If you get a sister, then you will need to protect her from harm. As any chivalrous soldier would do for a lady."
Just then the door creaked open, and the nurse Miluiemel came in.
"Lord Denethor, you may go see your wife now. I will stay here with the boys." said she.
"Thank you." said Denethor, helping his sons off his lap.
"I will send someone to fetch you two when your mother is ready." said Denethor reassuringly.
As he walked out of the room, he turned his head towards the boys and gave them a small smile before heading out.
The two boys played around the room while waiting for word about their newest sibling. The room was quite spacious, with a sitting area, complete with couches and armchairs. A chess game was set up, with a silver and gold chess board that doubled as a table, two small throne-like chairs facing each other, and a small dining area, with table and chairs for six people.
They went around swinging toy swords, challenging one-another. Boromir then tried to teach Faramir chess, but Faramir was too young to understand.
About an hour later, a young woman came in and collected the boys to take to their mother and father.
"So what was it?" asked Boromir. "We asked Nurse Miluiemel over and over, but she would not tell us!"
"You will see," said the young woman. "We are instructed not to tell you."
Boromir frowned. "Why does everything have to be kept secret from us? It is just plain annoying!" he whined.
"Now stop that my young lord. It is unbefitting for the heir of the stewardship to whine throughout the halls!" scolded the young woman.
Reaching the door to their parents' chamber, the young woman knocked on the door and left them.
The door creaked open slowly, and their father stepped out and knelt down to face his sons.
"Now, you must be very quiet while you are in here. You may talk, but talk quietly." Denethor instructed them.
"Yes Father." they replied in unison.
As they crept in, they noticed that there was hardly anyone there, just a few servants milling about, their mother, the baby, and themselves. When they looked at their mother in bed, she looked tired and weary, but happy. She motioned for them to come to her with her free left hand, as she held the baby in her right arm.
"So what is it?" Faramir asked as Boromir helped his little brother onto the bed.
Their mother smiled at them and said "Boys, meet your new little sister."
She leaned forward and showed them the baby, wrapped up in a green velvet cloth.
"Now, as she grows older, you will need to protect and watch over her." said Findulias.
"We will!" said Faramir, a little too loudly.
The baby woke up, and was about to cry, but then Faramir took one her of little hands in his and kissed her lightly on the forehead. The baby suddenly grew quiet and stared into her older brother's eyes.
"What's her name?" asked Boromir.
"Ranamir," their mother replied. "Her name is Ranamir."
November 25, 2988 of the Third Age
"How is Mother?" asked Boromir to Miluiemel.
"She steadily worsens, Boromir." the nurse replied.
"Where's Mama?" cried out Ranamir, as Faramir led her over to Boromir.
Boromir knelt down and picked up his three year old sister, who couldn't comprehend why their mother had been in her room all the time for the past two weeks.
Faramir looked up at his ten year-old brother with a mixture of fear and concern in his eyes.
Suddenly a middle-aged servant burst into the room.
"The Lord Denethor wishes his children to come immediataly to their mother's room!" he announced, and left as fast as he came.
"Come children, let us go to your mother." said Miluiemel, gently leading them down the hall.
"What is happening?" asked Ranamir, bewildered, as Boromir put her down.
"I do not know little sister," said Faramir gently, taking her hand. "I do not know."
When they reached their parents' room, Miluiemel motioned to them to be quiet. But as soon as the door was opened, Ranamir ran over to her parents' bed and clambered onto it.
"Ranamir!" exclaimed Boromir softly.
"It's alright," said their mother weakly. "You boys can come up on here as well."
As the boys came over, Findulias ran her hand over Ranamir's long blonde hair.
"My sweet girl, be brave, be strong. Become a gracious lady of Gondor," said Findulias. "And keep these two in line." she finished as Faramir and Boromir came close.
Ranamir leaned forward and clutched her mother awkwardly. Findulias returned the hug and lightly kissed Ranamir on the cheek.
"Now my two sons," she said beckoning them nearer, once Ranamir let go. "Be strong and courageous. Protect your sister, and watch out for her. Become the great leaders you were born to be."
She took her sons by the hands and kissed each one on the cheek.
The door creaked open slowly as the children were led away from their mother.
"What is happening to Mama?" asked Ranamir nervously.
"We don't know yet." replied Boromir, putting an arm around his little sister.
They walked down the hall in silence to Faramir's and Ranamir's bedroom. There, the four of them sat around the fireplace, the three children quiet as Miluiemel told them stories of elves and dwarves and many a great battle.
As the stories were being told, Ranamir snuggled up against Faramir, curled up like a cat next to him. He put his arm protectively over her torso, as to protect her if the orcs and spiders from the stories came alive.
When the sun had set, Faramir and Ranamir were tucked into their grand canopy beds, and Boromir was taken to his room by Miluiemel.
Ranamir fell asleep instantly, but Faramir was awake for hours after she did, thinking over the events of the day. He wondered why their mother was talking the way she did, and why their father was not with her.
Suddenly, as Faramir was beginning to drift off to sleep, Ranamir began thrashing around and softly crying "No!" in her sleep.
Faramir leapt up, and jumped from his bed onto hers. He began to shake Ranamir, gently at first, but harder as she didn't wake up.
"Ranamir! Ranamir! Wake up!" he exclaimed.
She sat up suddenly, tears streaming down her face. Faramir held her in his arms clumsily.
"What is it? What is wrong Ranamir?" he asked gently.
"It was mother, she was killed by a huge ugly orc," she said in a quivering voice, clutching at her brother. "There were elven warriors standing by, but they did not help her. They just stood by, laughing!"
Faramir rested his head on top of hers, and stroked her hair with his hand.
"Well, it was only a dream," he said reassuringly. "It has not really happened. Come on, I'll help you get back to sleep."
She laid down, and he laid down next to her. As his little sister snuggled up to him, he put his arm protectively over her, and that was how Miluiemel found them the next morning, snuggled up together, sleeping like angels.
While Boromir and Faramir were studying with their tutor later that day, and Ranamir was "helping them", Miluiemel came in with a shadow across her face.
"What is it nurse?" asked Boromir, once he saw her face.
"Your mother passed away not two hours ago," she said. "I'm sorry."
Ranamir froze for about one minute, and then tried to bolt out of the room, but Miluiemel caught her.
"You can't see her right now. Your father commanded that you stay away until the burial." the nurse said.
At this Ranamir gave up trying to run, and slumped down on the floor crying. Boromir and Faramir ran over to her, Faramir scooping her up into in his arms somewhat awkwardly and Boromir hugging them both.
After their mother's funeral the next day, the children walked back to the House of the Stewards with their nurse.
Ranamir held Faramir's hand as they walked, while she stared down at the ground. The long dark blue dress she wore covered her feet, and she had tripped over the edge several times already that day. Thankfully, Faramir and Boromir had caught her before she fell, but she was getting sick of wearing the long dress.
"How much farther? And when do we see Father?" she asked Miluiemel sadly.
Miluiemel smiled, but with pain in her eyes, replied, "It's not much farther my dear, but your father has asked that you children do not see him today."
With this spoken, the children trudged with heavy-hearts into the House of the Stewards.
March 25, 3001 of the Third Age
Sixteen year old Ranamir stared up into the hard, stern face of her father, as she knelt before him. His face had changed much over the past dozen years. His hair was mostly gray and white, save a few black streaks. His face had shown only coldness to her and Faramir; only when Boromir was near did she see it light up with adoration and caring devotion.
"What would my Lord have me do?" she asked with as much affection she could put in to her voice, while still sounding regal.
"Ranamir, I will have you join the Ithilien Rangers. You have proven yourself with a bow and sword, and since you are not content with needlework and other arts like a woman of your class, you will join the Rangers to put your skills to better use." Denethor said icily.
She stood up, maybe a little too enthusiastically , but she stood in perfect military form to appease her father.
"I will do my best to serve you, my Lord." she replied nobly.
"You will leave with your brother Faramir tomorrow at sunrise for Osgiliath, where you will meet with the other Rangers. Dismissed!" he said with authority in his voice.
She spun on her heel, trying not to break into a run. This was what she had wanted to do since she was seven years old. She gripped her sword, 'Nelma', and walked calmly out of the great white throne room, into the adventure of her long-held dreams.