Boromir's month of confinement crept by slowly, like a long, freezing winter that refuses to give way to spring. He was forced to look hard for ways to entertain himself, for even in the huge Steward's tower home at the top of Minas Tirith, there were many places off-limits to the boy. Boromir spent his days practicing sword fighting with his small sword, returned to him by Faramir, or climbing to the top of the great white tower, gazing down upon the land.

Denethor did not allow him endless free time, however. Both Boromir and Faramir were instructed several times a week by various teachers. The younger boy was simply learning the very basics of speaking and reading, while the elder studied several subjects, including language.

One warm day, Boromir was sitting restlessly inside a rather small stone room of the palace, listening to the endless droning of his private language instructor. The day's subject was Elvish. Although the boy did not actually learn to speak Elvish, he did learn that there were different types of Elvish, and they influenced some of the languages of Men. Or at least, that's what he was supposed to be learning.

In truth, Boromir found all his classes extremely boring. He was not interested in the Elves, for he had never seen any, and therefore did not care about their languages. During his times of instruction, he usually began daydreaming about more practical things, like weaponry. His teacher never seemed to pay much attention to the boy anyway, for he was lost in his own world as he droned on and on about the day's topic.

On this particular day, Boromir listened to approximately 30 seconds of the lecture before drifting off. "It's the perfect day for sword fighting, or exploring," he thought, looking briefly out a small window, "and I am stuck in here listening to who knows what!" He spent some time imagining what he would do after the day's lessons, how he would take his wooden sword and practice fighting some imaginary foes. Eventually, he realized that his teacher was not paying him the least bit of attention. Boromir thought about this for a moment, then a slow grin spread on his face.

"I wonder if I could escape from this stupid lecture," he wondered. "I only have to make it to that door over there....It's not too far." Boromir sat still a minute longer; then made up his mind. He very quietly sank down to the stone floor, careful not to alert his instructor. Next, he slowly creeped across the floor, using the same technique he had utilized while out on the plain. The instructor did not notice the boy. Perhaps he really was engrossed in his own words, or perhaps Boromir's age and small stature allowed him to move too quietly to detect. Eventually, Boromir reached the door of the room. He reached up slightly and pushed, opening the door a few inches at a time. Luckily, it did not make a sound, for it was one of the more recently oiled doors of the tower. Boromir crawled outside, into the great hall; then closed the door carefully behind him.

Pleased with himself, the boy got to his feet, and flattened himself against the wall. There was no one around. "I might as well explore a little," he whispered to himself. "Maybe I can get my sword." He then ran quickly across the length of the hall, trying to remember where he had left his small sword.


********

While Boromir was being instructed, Faramir simply wandered around the tower, bored. He didn't have any classes at the time, and was having a little trouble entertaining himself. The boy wished Boromir would come, but he knew that he would not see his brother for awhile. Therefore, Faramir meandered from room to room by himself.

There weren't many people around, for Denethor was in a different part of the city, and most of the other inhabitants of the town were elsewhere. No one noticed as the small boy suddenly stopped in front of a staircase, and looked upward.

Faramir knew the staircase was off-limits to him, for many times either he or Boromir had been ordered to remove themselves from its vicinity. However, the small boy was immensely curious about it. In the way of a child his age, he wanted to know exactly what was at the top. With a guilty look across his face, he spun around to make sure no one was watching. An empty hall stared back. Then, he turned back to the stairs, and, determined to find out what was at the top, he slowly crawled upwards, stumbling a few times.

The stairs were rather tall, but Faramir did not stop as he made his way up. His small hands scrambled for a grip at the top of each stair, and he pushed himself on with his feet.

Eventually, the boy reached the end. There was a huge, heavy door in front of him, decorated with some fancy symbols. Any ordinary person would have stopped upon seeing the door, not only because of its great size, but also due to the massive keyhole carefully carved out of metal. This was apparently a place off-limits to most, for only something of great importance would be hidden in such a way.

Faramir was not an ordinary person, however; he was a young child, and curiosity drove him ever onwards. He ignored the tremendous size of the door, it's decorations, even the keyhole upon it. Instead, he simply reached forward with one small hand, and ran it along the door's edge. He happened to notice something that another person might have missed.

The door was slightly agar. In fact, by leaning even his tiny body against the door, Faramir managed to move it a few inches. Then a few inches more. Then, a few inches more again. It took a little while, but eventually a small gap appeared between the edge of the door and the wall. To most, it may not have appeared significant, but it was just wide enough for Faramir to squeeze through. He slowly squirmed his way into the chamber behind the door.



********

Boromir trotted from room to room in the tower. He was angry with his forgetfulness. "Where did I put my sword?" he wondered. "I thought it was in my room..."

Suddenly, he stopped in mid-stride. "I bet it's in the eating area. I was in a big hurry this morning, and I think I left it." He raced over to the former breakfast area, panting. Boromir panicked slightly when he did not see his sword immediately, but soon he found it under a long bench. The boy carefully picked it up, and wiped off some of the dirt that had gathered upon its edge. Then he grabbed it with both hands, and swung it about a little, imagining himself defeating some evil foes.

"It's a good thing I found this," he began, muttering to himself. "Father would have been furious to see me leaving my weapons around like that." He spun around and swung his sword at the bench. "Take that, evil Orc!" he exclaimed, pretending to slay his enemy. "And that! And that!"

After a few such minutes, the boy stopped. "Hahaha!" he laughed, a little louder. "Boromir son of Denethor has slain you all! But such a noble warrior needs a better sword than this." His voice had a slight whine to it. "I am old enough for a real sword now! I hope father gets me one soon."

Boromir was so engrossed in his thoughts about battle and a better sword, that at first he failed to notice the yelling that wafted into the hall from the staircase in the corner. Soon however, his ears picked up a familiar voice, crying for help. He whirled around at the sound, and, sword in hand, he scrambled towards it.


********

After squeezing through the doorway, Faramir looked around in complete awe. He found himself in a small, poorly lit chamber filled with books and scrolls. A few intricately done paintings hung upon the walls, and in one corner, a statue of a Man looked proudly upon the room.

Faramir got to his feet, and walked about. The books and scrolls were of little interest to him, for he could only distinguish a few letters in their long pages, and there were no pictures to entertain him.

The statue was slightly more interesting, and the boy stared at it for a few moments, slightly intimidated by the power in the stone Man's face. He shivered a little, and closed his eyes, opening them only when he had his back to the strange statue.

Suddenly, Faramir spotted something unusual on a short shelf against the wall. He toddled over, curious. The boy soon realized that he stood just tall enough to peer over the shelf. Upon it, he found some strange, apparently round object covered in a thick, black cloth. The boy was reminded of a gift, wrapped up for someone special, and had the sudden desire to view the full contents inside. He reached towards the cloth, grabbed it, and, carefully pulled it off with his small hand.

A black stone sphere had been hidden underneath. It appeared to be completely devoid of anything interesting, and a wave of disappointment washed across the boy. "Boring, boring, boring!" he thought to himself. "Why did I look anyways?"

Another thought hit Faramir. "Maybe it's magic," he said outloud. "I better watch, just to see." He leaned forward, staring into the black sphere, attempting to see something in its dark depths. The boy was not disappointed this time. A bright, orange spot began to make itself appear within the sphere's center. Faramir strained his eyes to try and identify the spot, as it slowly grew bigger. Then, he screamed in terror as it grew, and he found himself unable to look away.

An evil, gleaming eye watched the boy intently.


********


Boromir soon realized that the terrified screams he heard were those of his younger brother, Faramir. They seemed to be coming from the top of the forbidden staircase. He bolted over, then paused, glancing about to see if anyone else was near. The door to his instructor's room was still closed, and no one else seemed to be around. "No one will notice," he said outloud, trying to forget the threats he'd heard from Denethor should he choose to wander up the stairs. Another scream came to his ears, somewhat fainter this time.

His brother must be in trouble! Shaking his head at himself for even pausing to think, he raced up the stairs. Then, he spent half a second readying his short wooden sword, and rammed into the metal door in front of him. It screeched open.

Faramir was standing near a shelf against the wall, his eyes wide and tears running down his cheeks. Boromir ran towards him, waving his sword around in a somewhat clumsy fashion, as though he would attempt to fend off any evil attackers within the chamber. However, he soon realized that no one else was around. Boromir reached his brother's side. In his hurry, he failed to notice the strange dark sphere. The glowing eye within its depths suddenly vanished, and it went completely black.

The younger boy stumbled backwards with a gasp, and would have fallen had not his brother grabbed him from behind. Faramir cried out again in fear.

"Calm down, it's me!" ordered Boromir. Then, his voice softened. "What's wrong?" he asked, fairly concerned, as he noticed the terror in his brother's eyes. "You look like you just saw a ghost!"

Faramir said nothing. Instead, he simply shivered, and pulled himself close to Boromir, hugging him tightly. Boromir sighed a little, but returned the hug.

"It's all right, Faramir. You're safe now." He paused for a second, then spoke again. "Did you hurt yourself?" Faramir shook his head quickly back and forth.

"Did you see something scary?" Faramir nodded, though he refused to say a word. The gleaming orange eye was still fresh in his memory. Boromir attempted to ask him more questions, but they were ignored. Finally, he gave up.

"Well," said Boromir, "don't worry; you're all right now. Come on let's get out of here before Father catches us. Anyways, I have to get back to class. It's almost over, and I don't want that stupid language teacher to see that I'm gone." He began to pull away from his brother, but Faramir latched onto his hand.

Boromir looked at him again, but didn't say anything else. Instead, he quickly lead the younger boy away from the chamber, and shut the metal door as they left.