Reviewer Responses

anonymous- I do feel honored.

Niliwen- hehe I made Denethor a meanie.

Ithilwen-I agree, ME does need a CPP. I'm sorry I made you cry, but since Faramir's one of my favorite characters too, you can be sure this isn't the end of his angst. =D sry

Narsil- Don't give up on your story! You just need to get back into it. Don't worry I'll post a couple chapters now to hold you over to the next time. I don't want to post to much of what I have until I get more of it done.

Thanks to Everyone else who reviewed, I just wanted to comment on the above-mentioned people's comments. Please keep reading and reviewing!

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Prince Imrahil arrived at Minas Tirith the night of the fifteenth. The weather had slowed them down so that they arrived later then expected. As Imrahil stabled his horse, a shadowy figure came up behind him. Whirling to face the intruder, Imrahil reached for his sword, only to stop when he saw the figure was a woman. Releasing the hilt, Imrahil asked, "Who are you? What do you want?" The woman answered, but desperately. "Please my Lord, you must hurry! Lord Denethor is speaking with Lord Faramir soon! You must go help him!"

"You are the healer who sent the letter?"

"Yes, please go!" Although initially distrustful of the woman, Imrahil felt a sudden fear pass through him and he hurried out of the stable towards the palace. He entered without a problem, for the guards and servants knew him and he quickly walked to Denethor's study. Throwing open the door, Imrahil was shocked at what he saw. Little Faramir huddled against the wall and a dagger in the hands of the Steward of Gondor poised to end the child's life. With a speed that would make his elven ancestors proud, Imrahil grabbed Denethor's hand before he struck. After disarming the Steward, the Prince grabbed the front of Denethor's shirt. "What in Varda's name do you think you are doing! You would kill your own son in a drunken rage? Elbereth, you have gone mad!" Pushing Denethor into a chair, Imrahil turned to his nephew. Lifting the boy to his feet he said, "Come Faramir, we are leaving."

Denethor stood again. "Where do you think you are taking my son?" Imrahil spun to face him. "I am taking him to Dol Amroth where he will be safe from the man who tried to kill him! Tell the city whatever you like, you will not lay another hand on this boy! I swear it!" Imrahil briskly walked Faramir away, careful not to hurt his broken arm. Calling a servant, the Prince ordered that Faramir's things be gathered and the horses prepared. He led the boy to the stables, wanting to get away from Minas Tirith as soon as possible. Luckily he had only brought a small escort of his most loyal men, who would not question his orders. As they walked, though, he realized that Faramir's wounds needed to be treated. Changing direction, they went to the Houses of Healing where the healers directed him to Iorwyn's house, for she was the only one that he trusted not to spread rumors around the city. Iorwyn was waiting for them and she quickly began working on Faramir.

The boy was in a state of shock and barely noticed when she set his arm. When Iorwyn was done, Imrahil led Faramir to the door. Turning to the healer he said, "Thank you my lady for all you have done. I will be taking my nephew to Dol Amroth to see his mother's family." She nodded, understanding the underlying message. He was thanking her for warning him and he was taking Faramir to Dol Amroth for his own safety. Waving farewell, Iorwyn prayed for the Prince and her little lord.

Boromir was waiting at the stables. Seeing his brother and uncle, he ran up to them. "Uncle Imrahil, what is going on? I went to see Faramir and the servants were removing his things saying he was going to Dol Amroth. Is this true?"

"Yes it is Boromir. I think it is time that Faramir meet the rest of his family. You know them, but he does not. I know it is short notice, but we got here later than we meant to and we need to get back home soon." Boromir looked at Faramir, but he held his head down, dark hair covering his face...and the cut from the dagger.

"Alright, I guess. I will see you in a little while then Faramir. Have fun, and don't worry, our relatives are great. You will like it there." When Faramir said nothing, he assumed that the smaller boy was just a little dazed at the move, so Boromir gave him a small hug and left the stables.

The horses were quickly saddled, and the company left Minas Tirith for home. Faramir rode with Imrahil for the Prince feared that the boy was not well enough to ride by himself. The escort said nothing, knowing that it was not their place.

Back in Minas Tirith, the Steward watched them leave from the tower of Ecthelion. His conscience cried for him to see his wrongdoing, yet it was ignored. Denethor was lost to the darkness.

~*~

            It took the company a week to return home. Throughout that time, Imrahil tried to get Faramir to talk, but to no avail. The boy withdrew into himself, responding only by nodding or shaking his head. The captain of the escort, Rendil, had also tried to talk to the young lord, but Faramir backed away, frightened, and so he gave up. Prince Imrahil was very relieved when Dol Amroth came into sight. They entered with no fanfare, which Imrahil was glad of, for they had not been gone long.

Freyaniel met them in front of the Royal House. When she saw Faramir with her husband, her heart sunk in the realization that the healer hadn't lied. From the look on Imrahil's face, she knew that things still were not good. "Freya, I would like you to meet my nephew Faramir. Faramir, this is my lovely wife Freyaniel."

Freyaniel bent over to look into Faramir's eyes. Their haunted look broke her heart. "Hello Faramir, I am so glad to have finally met you. My husband has told me so much about you, and I have been eagerly awaiting this day. You can call me Aunt Freya if you want." Faramir liked her, but still refused to talk or smile. He only bowed slightly and followed his aunt and uncle into the House. Leading him up two flights of stairs, Imrahil and Freyaniel showed him to his room.

"This was my room when I was a young boy. I loved sitting on the balcony overlooking the sea. Will it do?" Faramir walked around the room and nodded. It was nice and airy, the walls a light beige, and open doors leading to the balcony.

Freyaniel started speaking. "There wasn't enough time to air the mattress properly, but we can do that sometime this week. If you need anything, tell a servant and they will get it for you. Imrahil and I are six doors down that way on the right if you just want to talk to us. Once you get settled in I will show you around the House so you won't get lost. Oh, have you ever swum in the ocean? No? Well then, if you ever want to, come and get me and I will teach you how. Now, we will leave you to unpack. Remember I will be in my room when you are done." She gave Faramir a big smile and she and her husband left the room.

Faramir laid down on the bed. The servants carrying his things came and left, but he did not unpack. Aunt Freya seemed so kind and loving that he had almost spoken to thank her. Yet then he remembered his father's words. He didn't deserve to be loved. It was better that his aunt be kind to someone else, he wasn't worthy of her compassion. Sighing, Faramir stood up and began unpacking. The sooner he was unpacked, the sooner he could be done with the tour and be by himself again, where he was safe.

~*~

            Ten months went by, and Imrahil was no closer to bringing his young nephew out of his self-imposed silence then he had been the first week. Faramir was doing better though. He had reluctantly allowed Freya to mother him a little. They even went swimming a few times. One of the greatest steps taken had been the books. Faramir had refused to even open a book, for that is why he had gotten in trouble in the first place. One night, though, Freya sat down on the boy's bed and proceeded to read him an entire chapter of Akallabeth, the Fall of Numenor. After that, she read to him each night before bed, even though he still refused to read by himself.

            Faramir also began sword fighting again, though he favored his left hand. After gaining the boy's tentative trust, Rendil instructed him in the art of the sword. The captain and Faramir were sparring lightly when the trumpets announced that a man of noble blood had entered the city. Excused from the practice, Faramir ran back to the House to see who it was. He entered the parlor where Freya was preparing to greet the guest. He questioned her with his eyes and she answered, "I do not know who is coming. Your uncle is bringing him here right now. Oh, here they come." Imrahil entered the parlor followed closely by... Boromir! Surprised at seeing his brother, Faramir unconsciously moved closer to Freya. Spotting Faramir, Boromir broke out into a grin and ran to hug him.

            "Faramir! How are you? I've missed you so much! Are you having fun here?" Faramir nodded, but didn't smile. His face had been set in stone since his arrival and even seeing his beloved brother could not produce even a little smile. In his happiness Boromir didn't notice and turned to his uncle. "My father doesn't actually know I'm here. I snuck away with the messengers and by the time they figured out who I was we were too far to turn back. I wanted to see my little brother again. And you and Aunt Freya of course." Imrahil smiled at his older nephew but inwardly he wondered how Denethor would take it. Most likely he would blame Faramir for luring Boromir here.

            "We are glad to see you too Boromir, but I think it best if you leave with the messengers. Your father won't like that you have come without permission." Boromir looked at the ground guiltily. "Alright. But can we stay here a few days before leaving again?"

            "The messengers will want to leave as soon as possible so you may stay the night. We will give you the room next to Faramir's." Boromir agreed and then left to follow Freya to his room. Imrahil glanced down at Faramir. The boy looked as if he was confused as to whether be happy at seeing his brother or worried because Boromir was sure to notice his silence. Before Imrahil could say anything, however, Faramir left to return to his practice.

            Faramir didn't see his brother again until lunch. The four ate together, Imrahil and Freya talking to Boromir while Faramir sat in stony silence like usual. Finally Boromir turned to his little brother. "Faramir, you haven't said anything yet. Is there something wrong?" Faramir did nothing for a moment, then began rubbing his throat as a sign that he couldn't talk. "You hurt your throat? Are you sick?" Faramir nodded, but shook his hand to show that it wasn't serious. Boromir accepted this and proceeded to ask only questions with yes or no answers so that Faramir could either nod or shake his head. Imrahil and Freya exchanged a glance at the lie but said nothing.

      The brothers spent the rest of the day together. Faramir showed Boromir around the Royal House and the surrounding areas. They even sparred together and Boromir was surprised at how good Faramir had gotten, especially since his dominant right arm was still healing. Yet he was concerned because, no matter what, Faramir never cracked a smile. Boromir knew it had something to do with the night his brother had left, but what it was he did not know and neither Faramir nor his aunt and uncle would tell him. That night, Freya invited Boromir to listen to the book she was reading to Faramir. It confused the young lord for his brother had never liked being read to, preferring to read himself, yet he said nothing having learned that no one would answer his questions. After she finished reading, Freya tucked Faramir in and led Boromir back to his room where she tucked him in also. It felt nice, for no one had tucked him in since his mother. So Boromir, content with seeing his brother, fell fast asleep dreaming about winning wars and rescuing damsels in distress.

Faramir could not fall asleep. He tossed and turned until he realized that he wouldn't sleep unless he knew what his father said in his message. Creeping quietly downstairs, he entered his uncle's study. Prince Imrahil, who also couldn't sleep and was sitting at his desk, was startled when Faramir touched his shoulder. Turning to his nephew Imrahil asked what Faramir needed. The boy just pointed to the letter on the desk, clearly asking what it held. Imrahil sighed. "Your father has sent word that I am to take you back to Minas Tirith within two weeks or he will send an armed guard to escort you back." Faramir's gray eyes widened in fear at the prospect of returning to his father. Surely this time he would succeed where he failed nearly a year ago! Seeing this fear, Imrahil quickly reassured him. "Worry not Faramir! I will not let you go back to him. That is why I am up at this time of night. I have decided what we must do, and am thinking of how to proceed. There is an elven haven in the north, Rivendell, under the leadership of Lord Elrond. It has been said that he grants refuge to men in need.  A week from now, when the messengers have reached Minas Tirith and given Denethor my response, we will set out for Rivendell. Is this agreeable to you?" Faramir nodded, relieved to not be returning to his father. "Good. I shall tell Freya tomorrow. Now it is time for you to go to bed."

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Alright, I just changed the story a bit there. I didn't like the whole descendent of Amroth theme I had before so I'm changing it. Oh and in the upcoming chapter, I have the distances all messed up because I have no idea how far Dol Amroth is from Minas Tirith or Rivendell. I made it a week to Minas Tirith, just because I felt like it, and the rest of the time I just figure it would take about two months to get to Rivendell considering that is how long it was from the time the Fellowship left Rivendell to when it broke at Parth Galen.