Faramir held his breath, willing himself to be as silent as possible. He knew it was impossible to outrun his pursuer; hence his best option was to hide and remain unnoticed. The beating of his heart was so loud in his own head that he was fairly certain anyone within twenty feet would immediately be able to locate him. In fact, he could hear footsteps approaching his hiding place. He shrank back, hoping the darkness would conceal his presence. The footsteps sounded closer and closer, then stopped. Suddenly, a pair of hands shot towards Faramir and yanked him out of his hiding place.

"Looks like I have found you at last," a voice said.

Faramir blinked in the sunlight. It was difficult to see anything, much less the person who spoke.

"Over here, little brother," Boromir called from his left. Faramir turned and was startled to see his brother running at full speed toward him. There was no time for him to react before Boromir barreled into him and wrestled him to the ground. Faramir stood little chance, as he was just reaching adolescence while Boromir had almost attained adulthood, in body if not in behavior.

"Alright, alright," Faramir gasped, laughing. "I yield!"

"Nay," Boromir objected. "You have not even fought back yet. Father says we must always stand our ground in any fight, regardless of the force of the opponent."

"I know what Father says," Faramir said mournfully. "By now, I know his lectures by heart."

"Come, come," Boromir noticed the change in mood. "Let us not dwell on such matters. I was coming to inform you of the arrival of a visitor to our city."

"Are you sure that was the reason you were chasing me down the hall and into the garden?"

"I only ran after you because you fled at the sight of me," Boromir protested innocently. "Otherwise I would not have engaged in the childish activity of hide-and-seek. But why did you run from me?"

"Uh—," Faramir began, then fell silent. This caused Boromir to narrow his eyes suspiciously.

"You played a prank on someone, did you not? What did you do?" he asked.

"Nothing!" Faramir exclaimed. Then faster than one could blink, he took off in the direction of his bedroom.

"I have not told you of the news yet," Boromir called after him. "Mithrandir has come and has asked for you."

Faramir, however, was already out of earshot and so did not hear the identity of the visitor. Boromir shook his head, puzzled as always by his younger brother. One minute he was thoughtful and downcast, the next he was playful and cheerful. Faramir felt and experienced life deeply, sometimes too deeply, Boromir concluded as he followed his fleeing brother inside to finally deliver his message.

That evening found the grey wizard next to the fireplace in the palace library, Faramir peering over his shoulder, occasionally coughing at the cloud of pipeweed smoke rising from the wizard's pipe.

"What are you reading, Mithrandir?" Faramir inquired.

"The history of the great kings of Arnor and Gondor," Mithrandir answered absentmindedly. "Do you not have other business with which to occupy yourself?"

"You asked for me," Faramir reminded him.

"Oh yes, that is quite right," Mithrandir looked up from the dusty tome. "Tell me, what have you been learning in your lessons lately?"

"Well, last week the weapons master began instructing me on the use of the shield, and I have been practicing my archery and riding skills."

"That is all very well, and there will come a time when you shall call on those skills. But I am more interested in your other lessons."

"Oh," understanding dawned on Faramir. "My tutor instructed me to read on the history of defense strategies employed by our kingdom, and I am still learning the tongues of other peoples."

"Good, good," Mithrandir murmured. "Tell me, what peoples are there on Middle-earth?"

"Men of many kingdoms, Mithrandir. Dúnedain, from which our kingly line comes. Peoples of Gondor, Harad, Rohan, and many more. I do not understand all of the divisions, and sometimes it seems to me they have more in common than in difference, and these categories are more constructs of scholars than in reality."

"Truly?" the wizard responded, regarding the Steward's young son thoughtfully. "Tell me about the other races."

"Elves, dwarves, wizards," Faramir listed. "Ents, orcs—"

"Have you heard of halflings?" Mithrandir interrupted him. "Or hobbits?"

"Nay, I have not. What are they?"

"I suggest you look into the matter yourself. You might find it interesting. But now I must be on my way," said the wizard, standing up.

"But you have not even slept or bathed, and you are departing already?" Faramir asked.

"I am called the Grey Pilgrim for a reason, Faramir."

"I suppose," Faramir said, standing as well. "Perhaps when you have more time on a future visit, you can tell me about the lands and peoples you have encountered on your travels."

"All in good time," the wizard patted the young man on the shoulder. "Meanwhile, continue learning and remain hopeful. The Shadow grows, but do not let it take root in your heart."

"What do you mean, Mithrandir?"

"All in good time, all in good time," was all Mithrandir would reveal.

Since it was late into the night, Faramir was the sole person to walk Mithrandir to the stables and send him off at the gate. He gazed after the horse and rider until he could no longer make out the speck, then turned his steps toward his room. Mithrandir always had such wonderful tales of new sights and adventures, so Faramir was eager to spend time listening to him. For now, though, he would have to content himself with the worlds opened to him by his tutor and the books in the library. Tomorrow he would search for a treatise on the world of halflings.