This part of the story follows Boromir instead of Faramir. I felt that I couldn't ignore this part of the story, especially considering its later importance.

Reviwer Responses

JediKnightBalthasar= I kinda messed up with Denethor concerning Isildur's Bane. I'm not sure what I was going for there. I think it had to do with Denethor not liking the fact that Boromir was going to be gone. Oh well, call it an author's mistake. Sorry.

Ithilwen= I too thought Faramir was one of Tolkien's best characters. He seemed to have so much more emotion and personality than even Aragorn. I read somewhere that Tolkien also liked Faramir best and actually modeled him after himself. Don't worry, I too am overprotective of my writing and artwork, even if I'm not very good.

Narn= Heir of Tolkien? Hmmmm, I could get used to that. Lets see, Lirenel Greenleaf, Heir of Tolkien. I like the sound of it. =D Thank you for your compliments, they really encourage me to keep writing.

Smeagol= 4 more days, 4 more days!! Well, I count it as 4 because its nighttime so that means its close to tomorrow when it will be 4 days. Can you tell I'm desperate? I WANT MOVIE!!!! I will cheer for Gollum with you. I feel that he is one of the most important people in the movie. I found his theme song online, and it is really good.

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            One hundred and ten days. One hundred and ten days of riding, running, and rain. Boromir sighed as he traveled by the Bruinen River. One hundred and ten days and not a sign of a single blasted elf! Not one bloody. . . ^Halt mortal! You enter the lands of Lord Elrond.^ So much for no elves. Boromir found himself surrounded by at least ten immortals, probably more that he couldn't see. He held up his hands in surrender. Thanking the Valar, and Faramir, that he knew Sindarin, he spoke to the elf.

            ^Master elf, I am Boromir son of the Steward Denethor of Gondor. I am here on a search for the elven city of Imladris.^ Frowning, the elf he spoke to turned to another who stood beside him. Boromir had to look twice before realizing that the two elves were mirror copies of each other. They spoke in another language, probably Quenya, Boromir thought. The elf turned back to him.

            ^I am Elladan and this is my brother Elrohir. Come, we will see if Lord Elrond will speak with you.^

            The twins led Boromir into Rivendell. The Man stared in amazement at the beauty of the place. He was so busy gazing around that he almost didn't notice when Elladan and Elrohir stopped. Opening a door, the twins walked into Elrond's study, Boromir close behind them. The elf lord sat at his desk, pondering the events of that morning. Little over two hours before, Frodo Baggins the Hobbit had woken up, healed of his wound. The Council would be held the next day. Lord Elrond stood up when his sons entered followed by a strange man wearing the crest of Gondor. ^Father, we found this man near the river.^ said Elrohir. ^We did not know if he was here for the council, so we decided to bring him to you.^ He spoke in Quenya so as not to be understood by Boromir.

            ^Very well my sons. He comes from Gondor; perhaps he will be helpful.^ The twins left and Elrond turned his attention to Boromir. The Man seemed familiar to Elrond, though he couldn't place where. "Welcome to Rivendell. I am Lord Elrond."

            Boromir bowed respectfully. "Thank you for your welcome. I am Boromir, son of Steward Denethor of Gondor." It took all of Elrond's control to keep from swaying backwards in shock. That was why the Man seemed so familiar, he was Tir's brother! Luckily, Boromir did not notice the elf lord's surprise and continued speaking. "I have come here seeking an answer to a dream both my brother and I have had. Since Faramir is prone to prophetic dreams, we felt it prudent to figure out the dream's meaning." Boromir related the dream to Elrond who nodded in understanding. When he was done, Boromir asked if the elf could help him.

"Lord Boromir, tomorrow a council will be held that deals with what your dream is about. I ask that you wait until then to learn the answers to your questions. Come, I will have a servant show you to a room." The servant was very surprised when Elrond instructed him that Boromir was to have Faramir's old room. No one had stayed there since the Man had left years before. The servant said nothing, though, and Boromir found himself alone in a strange elven house, wondering what he had gotten himself into. He decided that it was best to rest while he could, and lay down on the soft bed.

            Boromir awoke after only a half-hour rest. At first he was startled by the unfamiliar surroundings, then got out of bed when he realized where he was. The Lord of Gondor began pacing around the room, bored with having nothing to do. His boots clunked loudly against the stone floor. Boromir paused when his footstep thudded hollowly on one of the stone blocks. Curiosity getting the better of him, he knelt next to the block and felt along the edges. Sure enough, unlike the other blocks, this one could be pulled up. Most likely it was a hiding place for someone's personal things.

            Although he knew quite well that he should leave everything alone, Boromir did not like being bored, even for only a few minutes, so he pulled the stone up to reveal a small hole. At first he thought nothing was there, but then he saw a small stack of books, more precisely, journals. He skimmed through the first few, learning that, apparently, the author was a foster son of Lord Elrond. He decided to read the oldest first. It was small and bound with leather. On the front cover, in elvish letters, was burned the name Tirpalandil. //That must be the name of the owner// realized Boromir. Judging by the handwriting, the writer must have been young. //But talented// he thought as he looked at one of the many drawings in the book. The picture was of a lone fawn, and while drawn somewhat crudely, Boromir could still tell that the little deer looked afraid and lonely. He smiled, but it quickly left his face as he started reading the journal entries.

***I am alone. Uncle is gone. My father hates me, my brother does not care. Lord Elrond is kind, but I do not deserve his compassion. I don't deserve anything. Why do they not understand? I am worthless to everyone. I have heard people say that children have no sadness, but I am nearly ten years old and my heart is in shreds. Father made sure of that. ***

            Boromir sat in shock. Ten years old? It seemed impossible that so young a child would feel that way. //The poor lad. I wish I could have done something to help him.// He turned to another drawing. A shadowed man held a dagger aloft, blood dripping on from the blade. Boromir's stomach twisted at the sight of a small boy in the picture holding his hand to a bleeding cheek. Spots of salt dotted the page, dried tears the artist had shed while drawing. Next to the figures was scribbled more words.

***Why Father? Why do you hate me? Why did you try to kill me? Would you have been sad if Uncle hadn't stopped you?***

            His father had tried to kill him? //Who would do such a thing? What kind of monster would try to kill his own child?// The pictures continued. A sketch of a waterfall, the clouds dark and ominous, with lightning streaking through the sky. A picture of Lord Elrond holding his arms out to embrace a small boy, but a dark wall separated the two. Pages of drawings filled with hopelessness, each accompanied by writings that spoke the same. Stunned, Boromir read every entry, looked at every picture, yet one drawing stopped him. The same boy, who Boromir figured was the author, reached his hands out to another figure, one that hadn't been in the sketches before. The boy pleaded for something, perhaps understanding, perhaps love, but the figure turned away, ignoring the boy. But that was not what froze Boromir. It was the words that were written on the back of the drawing.

***He hates me, I know he does. Every night I dream the same. I ask for his help and he turns me away, following our father instead. Why, brother? You said you were my best friend, Boromir, you said you loved me! Why did you lie? Why did you pretend to care when Father yelled at me? Will you still hate me when you are Steward? Will I never be able to go home to Minas Tirith again? Why, Boromir, why do you turn me away? Why do you hate me?***

            Boromir's blood ran cold, his hands shook. //No! No, it can't be!// He franticly looked back through all the sketches. His eyes saw the details he had missed before. The Steward's coat of arms on the abusive father. The horn of Gondor on the belt of the boy's brother. The horn, the symbol of his succession to the Stewardship of Gondor. Even the handwriting, he now recognized as his brother's. This boy, this Tirpalandil, was Faramir. His brother. Boromir stumbled over to the chamber pot before his stomach heaved and he vomited. His brother, his brother! His brother was the one who was hurt, the one whose father nearly killed him. Boromir's stomach retched again as he comprehended that Denethor had been the monster who almost killed his own son. The pieces of the puzzle clicked in Boromir's mind. That was why Imrahil had taken Faramir away. That was why, during his visit to Dol Amroth, Faramir hadn't smiled, hadn't spoken.

            He stumbled back to the journal. Boromir's head spun, mentally reviewing everything he had read. Faramir's hopelessness, his despair. Boromir's heart wrenched as he remembered the last entry. //He thought I hated him! Valar, he thought I didn't care! Years. This happened for years and I never realized it! How could I have been so blind, so stupid? He needed me and I failed him. I'm always failing him! He could have died! A child, he was just a small child and he had to go through all of that!// Tears streamed down Boromir's face. //It's all my fault! I should have stopped it, should have realized it. That strange person told me and I didn't listen! I should have listened, I should have known. Faramir, Faramir, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Valar, I am so sorry.// Boromir let out a sob, before trying to compose himself, to think straight. As he splashed water from a basin on his face, he knew that there was one person who could tell him what had happened, the full story. Drying his face, Boromir left to find Lord Elrond.

            The elf was alone in his private library. When Boromir entered, Elrond began protesting, until he saw the Man's expression. "Lord Boromir, what is wrong?" Then he saw the book clutched in Boromir's shaking hand. "You have found out what happened to your brother." Boromir sank into a chair. Elrond closed the door and sat beside him. He laid a hand on the Man's shoulder.

            The touch broke Boromir's control. "I never knew! Everything that happened, all he went through, I never knew about it! I didn't know that Father nearly. . . nearly. . . oh Valar, Faramir almost died and I never knew!" He looked up at Elrond. "He was here. He lived here for all those years, when I thought he was with Uncle, or traveling with friends. You took care of him." Elrond nodded, still not saying anything. "Please," Boromir pleaded. "Please tell me what happened." And Elrond did, telling Boromir everything he knew. The Man sat silently as the elf lord spoke, his eyes betraying the shock and horror at how Denethor had treated Faramir.                      

            After Elrond finished, a silence reigned before Boromir spoke. "How could this have happened? Why did I not see what was going on? I don't blame Faramir for hating me. . . "

            "No." Boromir looked up at Elrond's firm denial. "Faramir did not hate you. Nor did he truly blame you for what your father did to him. I think that he knew in his heart that you loved him, even when his dreams told him otherwise."

            "He said in this journal that he thought I hated him."

            "If you read on, read his other journals, you would see that he shows remorse for those comments. Do not underestimate your brother's far-sight. Even when he thought you had betrayed him, he knew that it was not so." Boromir flinched at the word 'betrayed' but heard the truth in what Lord Elrond said. Faramir did not blame him. But that would not stop him from blaming himself.

            Boromir spoke with Elrond for nearly an hour before leaving the library. He walked back to his room, to Faramir's room. Opening the journal to where he had left off, Boromir began reading. He read Faramir's whole life, the years he never knew about. Boromir's heart clenched as he read about Faramir's foster brothers, Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel. True to his word, Faramir had said nothing about Estel being the heir of Isildur, even in his journals, but still Boromir felt a twinge of jealousy over the obvious respect and admiration his brother had for the Man. For seven years the elves had been Faramir's family, the ones who had protected and loved him. Boromir clenched his fists as he finished the last book. //I should have been the one taking care of him! That was my job, and I failed. My failure nearly cost him his life.// Boromir set his mouth in a firm line. //I will not fail him again. I will do everything in my power to protect Faramir and Minas Tirith.//

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Hope you liked it! While you wait for the next update you can read my new story/song 'Frosty the Ringwraith'. Please review!