A Mother's Gift 2: The Confrontation Minas Tirith Early Summer 2988

It was another summer day and Finduilas had no strength to do anything more than sit by her window and attempt to drink the weak tea and eat the soft bread her ladies brought her.

In the afternoon, Faramir came in carrying a little bird cupped gently in his hands. It had mostly blue feathers except for its head, which had a few golden feathers on it. Finduilas could see it was a kind of bird that did not normally fly free around the White City but was brought from the south to be kept as a pet.

Faramir said, "Look what I found behind the rose bushes in the kitchen garden." and showed her the small creature, stunned but otherwise unhurt, shivering in his hands.

She smoothed tangled black hair away from his forehead and said, "Oh, what a pretty little thing, Fari. What happened to it?"

Faramir smiled and said, "Boromir and I were playing in the herb garden by the kitchen because cook was making some pies and said she would make an extra one for us."

Finduilas noticed the berry-stains around his mouth and laughed, "I see you rascals succeeded in charming her into letting you spoil your dinner. Do go on, dear."

Faramir, breathless with excitement, continued, "Well, the bird was flitting about the kitchen, as if he was trying to get in and accidentally flew into a widow and fell to the ground. That orange cat of cook's saw him fall and tried to leap on him but Boromir grabbed the cat by its scruff and brought it back to cook. I scooped up the bird."

The bird hopped onto Faramir's finger, cocked its bright head at Finduilas, and chirped expectantly. Finduilas held her hand out to the tiny bundle of feathers and it hopped from her son's small finger to her own.

Finduilas gasped in delight and said, "He is charming, Fari, and obviously used to people. We must find a cage for him. Where is your brother?"

The little boy grinned at his mother and said, "Boromir is looking for a cage right now. He should be here soon. What will you name him, mother."

She smiled and said, "I was thinking about naming him after your uncle Imrahil, but I think I will name him Finwë."

Faramir took a handful of seeds he got from the kitchen out of his pocket and fed one to the bird as it sat on Finduilas' finger. Both mother and son froze to hear the heavy approach of Denethor's steps and Finwë flew and perched on the edge of the canopy of Finduilas' bed.

Denethor stalked into the room and his anger was a tangible thing. He shouted at the boy for daring to disturb the rest of his sick mother and causing nothing but trouble. Before Finduilas could struggle to her feet and intervene, he struck the child so hard across the face that Faramir rocked back on his feet and a red mark immediately sprung up on his soft cheek. He did not cry but stood straight and silent.

Finduilas, in a quick movement that cost her much in pain, got out of her chair and strode quickly to stand between her husband and son. She had had more than enough of this. If she had been well and alert, it would have stopped long ago. What she at first thought was simply Denethor's favoring Boromir had become much worse since she became ill.

"Denethor," she said coldly, "If you touch my child again while I still walk this Middle Earth I will make you regret it. How would you like it put about that the Steward makes an enemy of his own small son? Then, of course, there is my brother. Imrahil values both his nephews and will not be idle if you persist in this. Fari was doing no harm. Leave my room. Now. In the name of the love we once shared that created this child, leave or I will have your blood on my hands."

Denethor had to know that that last was bluster but could see the resolve in her eyes. They heard Boromir's steps, quick and light, approaching the room.

He burst through the door holding a birdcage and said, "Mother, Fari I heard shouting. Are you okay?"

The boy looked from his mother, to his father, and then to his little brother standing like a statue with a red mark on his face. He calmly put the cage down, gave Denethor a look of reproach that almost shamed the Steward, and took Faramir in his arms.

Something in Denethor seemed to crack and the rage drained out of him. He said, "As you will, Finduilas." and left the room.

After he left, Finduilas collapsed on her bed in agony. Her sons rushed to attend her. Boromir helped her sit up in the bed and placed pillows behind her back and Faramir brought her a cup of tea from the pot by her window. After all was again calm, Finwë flew down from the canopy to perch on Faramir's head and the child placed the bird in the cage Boromir found.

After they had been silent for some time Finduilas held her younger son close, kissed his injured cheek and said, "I am so sorry, Fari, so very sorry." She looked at Boromir and said, "Boromir, dear, would you pick out a book for us to read. If I get too tired, you can take over."

Boromir picked out a volume of old heroic tales and Finduilas read to her sons as they nestled in the bed beside her. Somehow, she found the strength to read until they both fell asleep curled against her and entwined in each other's arms.