By The Sea

A/N Our favorite family takes a vacation. This chapter is filled with actual happiness. Don't know how that happened. As always, thank you for the read and review. Insert Standard Disclaimer here.

Fin stood shading her eyes, watching as her husband instructed their son in the basics of great sword. She was glad that he'd agreed to this small holiday by the sea. He was almost the man she'd fallen in love with here. His eyes were no longer dulled by exhaustion; less often did lines of worry crease his forehead, ageing him prematurely. Even the spectre of Thorongil seemed less potent here.

After Faramir's birth the scales had fallen from her eyes. Thorongil was but a young woman's fantasy. Denethor was her reality; her husband, father of her children, the warmth that lay next to her at night. True he had no hope of living up to her dreams of Thorongil, but then even Thorongil had no hope of living up to her dreams of Thorongil.

Realizing this she had tearfully admitted her failing as a wife and begged his forgiveness once more. She had not expected instant absolution and she had not received it. But now, time away from the city seemed to be slowly healing the hurt and distance between them.

Casting her gaze a little to the left, Fin's smile widened at the antics of her little one. Faramir. So sweet and loving and ever curious, he seemed engrossed in some newly discovered waterside denizen. She hated to interrupt, but it was time for the noonday meal.

"Sweeting, come eat your lunch."

Faramir sighed and ignored his mother. Lunch could wait, he had just found the most interesting shell and there was something still inside it. He poked at it with a small stick and it retreated further. Hmmm. Maybe father knew how to coax the creature from its shell. Father seemed to know everything. He looked up the beach for his father and made a moue of disappointment.

He was busy sparring with Boromir. Some time ago, they had removed the woolen batting from Boromir's practice sword and now he refused to be parted from it; saying how it looked much more like sword now instead of a small round sheep on a stick. Shaking his head, Faramir could not fathom why his brother liked fighting so much when there were so many more interesting things in the world, like shells with very strange things in them that refused to come out and play. Maybe if he stuck his finger inside instead of a …

Denethor whirled around at the piercing sound of his younger son's cry. Boromir had been in the middle of delivering a blow to his father's leg and was much surprised and scared when it actually connected causing his father to bellow in pain. Massaging his barked shin Denethor rushed to the pavilion where Faramir stood with his face buried in his mother's skirts.

"What's wrong Fin? Is he alright? What happened?"

On hearing his papa's voice, Faramir turned from his mother and launched himself into strong arms.

"It...hurt… papa," he wailed, sobs punctuated by childish hiccups.

Denethor looked to Finduilas, who shook her head that the boy was not injured only seriously affrighted.

Relieved that it wasn't serious, Denethor placed a quieting kiss on Faramir's temple. "And what has hurt Papa's little man?"

"It…was…a…shell!!" Faramir wailed again and buried his face in his father's warm neck.

Boromir looked up in disgust at his younger sibling. All this noise over one little shell.

Denethor admonished Boromir with a look and spoke softly to his younger son, rubbing slow small circles on his back. "Shhh little one, come show Papa this mean old shell and I will explain with the point of my sword that none may harm Lord Faramir whilst his father draws breath." Faramir shook his head no.

He felt wet snuffles and hot tears in the crook of his neck as the boy tried to settle further into his arms. Denethor sighed and drew Faramir close to him. The lad was so sensitive sometimes.

Boromir rolled his eyes again. Faramir was such a little baby sometimes. What was he going to do when an orc came and cut his leg off? Boromir was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would merely hop on one leg and keep fighting. To prove his point he started to do just that.

Raising an eyebrow at Findulais, Denethor enquired just what exactly had gotten into their older offspring now. She returned it with a look that said, "He's your son."

"Boromir," Denethor did his best to keep a chuckle from bubbling up, "What exactly are you doing?

"Fighting orc one-legged father," answered Boromir, his tone suggesting that perhaps Denethor could look forward to early dotage.

"Of course son, I should have recognized the technique."

Boromir nodded accepting his father's apology graciously.

After a few moments in his father's embrace, Faramir had finally settled down, coaxed by a piece of candied fig from his mother. Denethor winced as sticky fingers wiped themselves on his new linen doublet.

Denethor watched as Finduilas put the final touches on the luncheon and the family sat down to their meal.

"It looks delicious." Denethor leaned over and kissed his wife softly on the cheek. Boromir rolled his eyes and screwed up his face. Parents. They were always kissing or smiling at each other these days. It was disgusting, it was. No soldier of the realm should behave so. Faramir smiled sweetly, loving it when Mama and Ada were happy and hugged and kissed each other.

"Thank you." Fin acknowledged graciously, but with a warm undertone Denethor did not fail to discern. His smile widened a little. It felt good. Taking a bite of the spiced chicken, he sighed contentedly.

Boromir attacked his plate like the little general he was; peas flanking potatoes in an all out battle to take the mound of chicken. A pea tried to defect to the potato side and was instantly punished for it's treason by disappearing into Boromir's mouth. The chicken devoured first with military precision, followed by peas, followed by potatoes. Not a single morsel of food cross-mixed.

Faramir played with his food; peppering the potatoes with peas, admiring the contrasting colors and textures. The chicken was largely ignored, except for a few stray bites.

"Faramir, stop playing with your food."

"Yes mama," he responded obediently.

Boromir stared at his brother willing him to eat faster. The rule was, dessert could not be served until everyone was finished eating and it always took Faramir so long. Faramir was perfectly aware of Boromir's dilemma and resolved to take the tiniest bites possible and chew as them as slowly as he could. After all he'd already had a sweet. It was a perfect punishment for Boromir calling him a baby.

Groaning at another infinitesimal bite, Boromir directed pleading eyes to his father. His father hid his smile and turned a stern gaze to his youngest, "Faramir," he growled warningly. Faramir stuck out his bottom lip and proceeded to eat a little faster. In due time everyone was finished and dessert was served.

Denethor looked to Finduilas who was now leaning back in her chair, her already pale skin almost translucent. He swallowed the swiftly forming lump in his throat. "Are you alright my love?" he asked hoarsely.

Fin's lashed fluttered upwards, the shadows beneath her eyes more pronounced. "Just a little tired. I think I will go inside and lay down for a moment. There is a banquet tonight honoring the elevation of Captain Mirahil and I must see to the details."

"Does your father not have the staff to see to these details?" he asked an edge to his tone. She had seemed so tired of late, overseeing both their sons and her father's household. Couldn't they just let her rest?

Fin drew in a sharp breath at her husband's reproof of her family. "With my father widowed I am the lady of the house. Think you I am incapable of fulfilling my duties?"

Denethor sighed, again his words were twisted, misconstrued and it was his own fault. For so long his love had heard naught but censure from his lips, why would she believe otherwise now? It would be a long battle to completely reconcile with his wife. So many wrongs on both sides. "Nay my love, I only meant that you seem tired and perhaps the chatelaine could see to the more mundane details."

Findulais nodded, not fully convinced but willing to concede her lord's apparent concern. She stood and in gentlemanly response so did Denethor and her sons.

"Shall I escort you back to our apartments? "

"Nay, please stay and play with your sons. They see so little of you when we are in residence in the White City. "She nodded to one of their ubiquitous guards, "Naril, will guide me back."

The Swan Knight nodded swiftly and held out an arm for his lady to take.

Denethor watched, eyes narrowing, as his wife slowly made her way back to the castle.