VII.  A Talk with Boromir

The door to the muniments room opened and the sound of firm steps was heard to approach their table.

"Faramir," came Boromir's voice softly.  "Are you ready for our practice?"

Faramir stretched, clasping his hands above his head and extending his arms back to ease his shoulders.  He looked over at Mithrandir, who was reading intently.

"Excuse me, sir," he said.  "I must go now.  Shall I see you at dinner this evening?"


Mithrandir's head came up with a jerk.  "What?  Oh, good afternoon, Boromir.  I see you have come to take away my assistant for the rest of the day.  Yes, Faramir, I shall dine with your family again this evening.  I will see you both then.  Enjoy your swordplay," and he turned back to his leather-bound volume.

Pushing back his chair, Faramir rose and followed Boromir out of the room, up through the grey stone passages and outside to the armories and the practice yard.

"How was your afternoon in the archives?" Boromir asked his brother as they walked.  "It seems dull to me, although probably no more dull than sitting in council and listening to some of that talk.  Always someone objects to a perfectly sensible proposal, and has to be brought to see reason.  And Father had me stay once the discussion was concluded – I will tell you later, perhaps, of what he said, but just now I wish not to think of it.  I'll be glad to shake some of the cobwebs out of my head with a little exercise.  So, how was working with lord Mithrandir?"

"Well, not as interesting today as I had hoped," confessed Faramir.  "He had me practicing the alphabet for the High-Elven language; the letters are mostly the same but many of them stand for different sounds, so it is a bit confusing.  But we did talk a little as well.  Did you know that there are still Dúnedain living in Eriador?  They are called Rangers, and protect the folk of that land just as you protect Gondor.  And there is even some settled country there.  Master Mithrandir did not tell me the name of the land, I do not think it is a proper kingdom, but more an old province ceded by the king of Arthedain to a people called the Periannath."

"I had heard something of the Dúnedain to the north," said Boromir indifferently.  "A scattered people now, I think.  Their kingdoms are long gone, and their kings as well.  But if they oppose our enemies, that is all to the good.  The Periannath?  That folk I do not know.  I imagine they are of no great significance."

"No, I shouldn't think so, I just thought it was interesting to learn of them," replied Faramir.  "So, Father said that you were getting some new mail?  Are you going to try that out today?"

"I had better try it out here before I wear it in the field," smiled Boromir.  "I have to be sure that it fits so that I can move properly, after all.  I tell you what, why don't you warm up and do your usual practice while I deal with that and talk for a little with Hallas, and then later I will show you a new move I've been working on."

"All right," said Faramir cheerfully.  His ordinary drill would be much more fun with a bout with Boromir to anticipate at the end of it.  For once he almost looked forward to putting on the padded and quilted practice garments.

Two hours later, he was not certain if he would last through the session.  Boromir was in some ways a harder taskmaster than Hallas.  He had shown Faramir the promised new move, a twist of the wrist that if performed correctly could disarm an unwary opponent, and now they were practicing it.  The trouble was that Boromir was expecting the move, which made it much more difficult for Faramir to carry it out. 

"Keep your feet light," advised Boromir.  "Try to feel as if the sword is an extension of your arm, and let them move together naturally."

"I can't," panted Faramir.  "I just can't feel like that at all.  I have to think about what to do."


Boromir frowned a little.  "That's why you're having trouble, then.  I think the best thing to do would be for you to practice all your drills to the point of absolute boredom.  Start by counting the movements, as when you learn a new technique.  But go through them all so often that you don't have to do that at all, your body simply knows what to do next.  You need to make it so that each action is as automatic as breathing.  For me, this was easy to do, just as book-learning is easier for you.  But if you will be on the field as a captain someday, you will have to acquire this skill.  Enough for today, however.  Perhaps the next time I am able to be in Minas Tirith we will have another chance to practice."

"Oh, are you leaving so soon?" said Faramir in disappointment.  "I had thought you were to be here several more days."

"I doubt I will leave tomorrow, no.  But we may not be able to drill together again before I leave.  Much of my time will be spent arranging for supplies to be taken to Osgiliath, and things of that sort.  I may do my sword practice in the morning, while you are bent over your books."

They walked back into the armory to put away their gear.  There was still some time before the usual dinner hour, and Faramir commented, "After that session, I suppose I really should bathe before dining with Father and Master Mithrandir and whomever else will be present tonight."

"A good idea," said Boromir.  "Do you usually use the big bathing room, or the little one upstairs in the family quarters?"

"Most often the little one, but then one has to get a servant to bring all the hot water up, and we don't have that much time to spare.  The baths down here have that big tank which is always heated, so it will be quicker, and at this hour there will probably be no one else using it," answered Faramir.

The bathing room, open to use by all who dwelt within the Citadel, lay next to the kitchens underneath the Steward's House.  It had originally been a single large chamber, but now a wooden wall divided it into a men's and a women's side.  Each area had a dozen or so tubs in a semicircle around the perimeter, with a pair of pipes running along the wall to supply the cold and heated water to the bather's taste.  Towels were stacked on a table in the middle, and a large basket stood ready to hold the damp towels after use.

The brothers chose a pair of tubs next to each other, and started the taps running as they pulled off their sweaty garments.

"Ah," sighed Boromir, as he lowered himself into the steaming water.  "This is a luxury I miss in the field."

"It is good to be able to soak off the sweat," agreed Faramir, reaching for a bar of soap.  "What else do you miss, when you're on campaign?"

"Not much, really," said Boromir.  "You know I don't care for fine clothes or anything of that sort.  And I certainly do not miss having to attend council meetings; in fact to avoid those I would give up any sort of luxury and stay out fighting the Orcs all the time!  Well, perhaps not quite.  By the time that Father dies I expect I will feel otherwise, and he looks not like a man who will die young in any case."

"Do you miss having women around?" asked Faramir shyly.

Boromir twisted around to gaze at his brother.  "I wondered when this topic would appear, after what you said yesterday evening.  The answer to that question is, sometimes.  But I think you have other questions you want to ask me, do you not?"

Faramir squirmed a little.  Now that it came to it, he was not sure just what he wanted to ask his brother.  "I know some things," he said, "You know I was out on the home farms last summer for the harvest."


"Oh yes, I had to do that as well at your age.  Father is very keen to make sure that we know something about how ordinary folk live and work, and the farm is a good way to do it.  He'll probably have you spend some time with the smiths here in the city at some point – a bit of knowledge of smithcraft is useful in the army, so that at least you can see to the shoeing of your own horse! – and perhaps work at another trade or two also."

"Yes, well, I talked with the lads there, and they told me about the girls they knew and that kind of thing.  And the farm's reeve was breeding some herding dogs, and had me supervise their matings.  But it all seemed so, so, I don't know, so mechanical.  Is it really like that?  To be with a girl?" asked Faramir in some embarrassment.

"I don't know if I'm the best person for you to talk to, really," said Boromir.  "I'll tell you what I know and think, but sometime you should talk with our uncle Imrahil, if you can.  He's the one who told me about all these things, and he's really very easy to talk with.  Mechanical – no, I wouldn't call it that.  Have you had dreams about girls, where you wake up excited?"

"A few times," said Faramir, looking sideways at the edge of the tub.

"Well, then, when you're really with a girl it feels like that, only more so.  Uncle Imrahil says that it is far better to be with your wife, whom you love and who loves you, but I wouldn't know about that.  I'm not that interested in being married, anyway, certainly not soon," he scowled.

"Well, I think I want to marry.  And I would hope to love the woman I wed," said Faramir.  "Although any such event is a long way off.  But, Boromir," he hesitated, "how old were you when..." his voice trailed off.

"When I was first with a woman?  Seventeen, I think.  It wasn't exactly what I'd expected.  I was with several of the other younger fellows in my company – this was before I had a command, of course – and we had just had a very successful skirmish, a whole band of forty Orcs killed and no men lost.  So we wanted to celebrate, and one of the older men suggested that we go to a particular tavern, which was supposed to have very good ale and women available for those who wanted them.  After I had had a few tankards I suppose it just seemed like a good idea.  But I don't remember it all that clearly, now.  I wouldn't advise you to follow in my footsteps in this matter, Faramir!  There's no reason why you should feel you are somehow slow in these things," declared Boromir.

"No, I'm not ready for that yet.  But I feel like I look so much younger than my age; I'm getting taller, to be sure, but that is all."

"As I've said before, you shouldn't worry about that.  It's the Elf-blood, perhaps.  I wasn't the first of my friends to start a beard, either.  Is that what's bothering you?" said Boromir.


"Oh, I don't know.  I suppose I am just impatient to be older altogether.  Whatever I want to do, I seem to be too young for, and no one takes me seriously even if I have something worthwhile to say.  Perhaps if I looked older they would," Faramir muttered.

"Now, listen to me.  Don't be self-pitying, Faramir.  You know that's not true.  Father may not always pay the attention to you he might, but you know that I listen to you.  And Mithrandir seems to as well," Boromir said thoughtfully.  Then he added, "By the White Tree, look at the time.  We had better hurry if we don't want to be late to supper again."

They climbed from the tubs and went dripping for the towels.  Boromir snapped his at his brother playfully.

"Feeling better now?" he asked.  "You know that I will always be there for you, here in person when my other duties allow, and you are in my thoughts as well.  That is what brothers are for, is it not?"

"Yes, Boromir," said Faramir soberly.  "There is no one like your own brother."