Faramir, All That Is Practical
It is very irritating when adults chastise me for something that is entirely no fault of my own. At times, I feel that they blame me simply because I am small. I confronted Lerin, the librarian, about this several weeks ago. He laughed, pat my head, and assured me that it was not true. It is understandable why they blame Boromir, though. After all, according to Lerin, he is currently at the stage where an invective in every sentence is a normality. Personally, I am finding it to be pointless and annoying. Denethor, as can be read from his tone of voice, apparently agrees.
I listen with vague annoyance as Líriel continues accusing me of acts that I have not perpetrated. The absence of various sweets from the kitchen is not my doing. Meanwhile, Aerdith comes along to my rescue. Aerdith has much more sense than that witch. She is much more fair (and in my opinion, intelligent). Líriel does not seem to understand the nature of children at all. Many children, upon committing any wrongful acts will, upon entrance of an elder, run away from the scene of the crime or get caught red-handed. With the very inconsiderate action of the former, innocent bystanders, like me, must suffer for their crimes. Boromir finds himself in situations that are similar to mine often. However, in his case, he most likely was guilty. But I, being the obedient child that I am, am blamed for no reason. Boromir, fully understanding the laws and politics that govern the world of children, says that it is my fault for being such an easy target of the unfair workings of others. I respond by saying that I did not ask to be small and hence, an easy target. It is, loathe am I to admit, somewhat my fault for being timid (but it is in my nature to be timid, so therefore, I, as a person, am not to blame). The both of us then continue in a battle of wills. He would ultimately tire of such debates and I would claim the victory.
"What strange occurrence has happened here so that the little Lord Faramir must be on the receiving end of such harsh rebukes?" Aerdith asks. In my mind, I know that salvation is near. Aerdith, I hear, used to care for the children of the servants when she was younger with a strong and fair hand. She comprehends the inner workings of a child's mind. I pray that my trust in her is not unfounded.
"The little brat stole some of the ginger candy I had here on the counter," Líriel explains. I wonder if there is a hint of doubt in her eyes. When some of Boromir's friends are arguing or bullying some poor socially awkward boy, they say that they are positive about such and whatnot with power and confidence resulting from a strong ego. But when confronted by the higher authorities, they become quiet and shy and they look down at their feet –lacking the confidence they had before. I am not sure if it is the same with adults.
"Faramir, did you eat or take the candies?" Aerdith asks in a firm voice that's almost enough to rival my father's.
"No, ma'am," Líriel glares at me and pouts. How childish.
Aerdith bends down so she is at my level and knowing what she is about to do, I give a little puff of air so she can smell. Of course, my breath smells nothing like ginger at all. My breath is not sweet and is, in fact, not very pleasant smelling. Now that Aerdith knows that I am innocent, I make my hurried escape from the kitchen.
Boredom is a state that I do not enjoy being in. But bored I am, and unfortunately, it is a state that I find myself in often. Boromir is typically the solution to my boredom. But he is currently at arms practice and he will not be available for a while. He and some of the other boys will go off and play after. Meaning that they practice out of class, which means extra work, and Boromir is not known to approve of extra work. My brother finds something thrilling about weapons and battle. Sometimes, I wish someone would explain comprehensibly the thrill of athletic prowess because that is something beyond my understanding. It is painful and sore –where is the fun in that?
I prefer history lessons to arms lessons and practice. Reading and listening does not cause physical pain or stress. But Boromir prefers exercising the body rather than the mind. I figure that physical exertion and mental exertion both cause stress, it just depends which type you prefer. My thought process goes along like so –physical stress, like the pain and soreness of muscles, can last days. Injuries, self-induced or otherwise, can last even longer. Mental stress, in Boromir's case-in the form of headaches and frustration, only lasts however long the lesson was. Two hours of stress, I think, is much more preferable to days of pain. I think that he thinks that I think too much. Once, when I was bored (not unlike the way I am now), I told Merdith about my dilemma. She looked at me and said that exercising the body and mind are both important. I promptly agreed with her and pursued my point in saying that it is much more preferable to think than it is to sweat. Merdith had sighed and fed me a slice of something sweet and I jumped down off the stool and walked away with my prize. As I was leaving, I heard her mutter something about the twisted directness that children can have. I also heard her say abomination. After talking to my father about my dilemma and the incident with Merdith, he told me that different people prefer different things. Boromir liked athletics and I liked learning and that it is something that I should just accept. He paused as if he was going to add, and then stopped talking. I directed the conversation towards the incident and I asked him what it could mean. In his fashion, he told me that I should leave Merdith alone and not bother her with my petty problems because she found them irritating. He also told me that some old sayings say that sometimes children notice and observe things that adults do not. Apparently, Merdith believes that I do not relate to the proverbial saying. Denethor allowed me to conclude that I, therefore, was the abomination. I found Merdith's observation quite unfair.
Upon pondering these things, I realize that I truly am extremely bored. When one finds himself with nothing to do, there are essentially several options. First, one can remain with nothing to do and wander and ponder aimlessly. Second, one can sleep and hopefully wake up and have something to do. Third, one can actually find something to do. The first and second options are not appealing at the moment. Therefore, my solution lies in the third.
Soldiers practice in several different areas. The largest area is, naturally, the central practice ground located outside of the armory. It is very large and circular with grassy areas, stone tiled areas, dirt areas, rest areas, and shady areas. There is also a wall that partially surrounds it. It is not a very high wall and sometimes the soldiers sit on it and watch the others spar. Currently, I am sitting on the wall thanks to a kind soul with a large, scruffy beard who lifted me and sat me on top of it.
Normally, I do not watch the soldiers practice. I had considered going to the library, watching clouds, or coming here to the practice grounds. My entire morning consisted of dawdling in the library and my eyes needed a rest. I had wandered into the gardens, looked at the sky and figured that it was pointless to watch clouds on a cloudless day. So, I find myself here on the wall. Boromir and his group of rambunctious friends are practicing (or playing) at the opposite end. From my vantage point (which is very clear), it would appear that two boys are wrestling while the others are caught between watching the soldiers or their friends. I think most of them, like my brother, are watching the soldiers.
There can only be so much interest in watching two men bang sharp pieces of metal in a fight. It looks dangerous and dirty.
Boromir's group is now making loud noises and gestures and I realize that they are currently cheering. Looking around me, I notice scruffy beard and his group are also cheering in the shade. In fact, most of the soldiers are cheering and all are looking at one point. Two men are in the center of the grounds and it wasn't difficult to observe that one of them must be a hero of sorts. I watch them circle each other and one of the men lunges forward. The attack is blocked and more cheers arise from the audience. I still have no idea which is the hero. Their swords glint in the sunlight and I have to shield my eyes from the glare. From the recesses of my mind, I recall the poems of heroes long past. I wonder if the minstrels or whoever composed those poems have ever been in a predicament such as mine. Even if they have suffered this, I think they would still write of swords glinting in the sunshine with as much majesty and grandeur as there is.
The clinging of blades ceases and a great cheer arises. It is very loud and the noise makes me dizzy and my ears hurt. I feel disappointed about missing most of the fight, but I now look to see who the winner was. The two men are thronged by a large group and I cannot see a thing. I find myself thinking that today is not a great day. Bells are ringing, signaling the time for the afternoon meal. The soldiers leave the practice grounds, including scruffy beard. Boromir and his friends have also left with their arms master. Apparently when the practice grounds are empty, they become deserted. It also proved to me that soldiers move in packs even when they are not on duty. This is a problem for me, as I realize that I am now in a new predicament. Scruffy beard had not taken into his calculations my shortness. A full grown man could jump off the wall with relative ease since his feet are not that far from the ground. However, with my height, it is a relative distance to jump. All of my complaints simply lead to a simple matter. I cannot get down from the wall.
After dangling upon the wall for I do not know how long, a guard saw me and came to my rescue. He came up to me and laughed, but he wasn't laughing at me, he was laughing at my situation, I think.
"So, you got yourself up, and now you can't get yourself down, eh?" he had said with a smirk.
"Yes," was my timid reply. Secretly I was praying he would simply set my feet safely upon the ground and leave me alone. Was that too much to ask for? Apparently, it was.
"How did you get yourself up?" he asks, arms folded across his chest.
I began to wonder if I should pour out the troubles of my day in an attempt to bore him into setting me down. But it was still a bit early in the conversation for such desperate measures.
"Well, you see, I came here thinking to watch the soldiers practice. Then scruffy beard saw me and set me on this wall."
"Scruffy beard?" there was a quizzical expression on the soldier's face.
"Why, yes." I had been calling scruffy beard scruffy beard in my head that I hadn't considered calling him anything else. Before he could add to his question, I decide to continue. "Well, he put me here and apparently forgot to bring me down. Therefore, I have been here for… a very long time."
"Why did you not hop down?" I officially decided then and there that unobservant people irritate me.
"If the wall were shorter or if I were several years older, I would have. But the wall remains as it was and I am not getting older fast enough."
"Oh." At that, he finally lifted me up and my feet were placed safely upon the ground. I bid the soldier a good-bye and ran as far as my short excuse for legs could carry me.
My stomach eventually brought me to the kitchens where I found a basket of bread, some cheese, honey, and butter. All this food most likely was not there waiting for me, but I figured a bit would not be missed. It is not as if I had Boromir's stomach. The bread was not soft, but I was too happy with the honey and butter to care.
I finished my small meal before I reached the library. After the wall incident, I was less inclined to want to watch the soldiers. The fact that it was very warm outside did not help to convince me to return to the practice fields.
When I entered the library, I saw Lerin. I was not in the mood to do long-term reading and conversations with Lerin proved interesting for the most part. Unfortunately, he was absorbed in his writing at the moment and was completely oblivious to the world. But I was bored and busy work never stopped me.
(To Be Continued)
