Thanks for the continued reviews! I appreciate them a lot, and like I stated before, they encourage me to keep writing.
Note: In case you are unsure, an example of a palantÃr (or seeing-stone) is the round, black stone Saruman uses to communicate with Sauron. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe there are 9 in total.
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As the hours crept by slowly, deliberately, it appeared as though Faramir's words might indeed be true. Even after a single dose of Mithrandir's unusually potent medicine, Boromir began to breath more easily. A rattling noise was still present in his lungs, but it grew fainter as time wore on, and the rivers of sweat seemed to cease their flowing down the boy's face. Denethor managed a relieved sigh when he felt his eldest son's forehead and found it not so warm to the touch as before.
"Your strange healing potion appears to be taking effect," he murmured, more to himself than to the wizard standing nearby. The Steward turned, then, speaking a bit louder said, "And for that I thank you. I could not have prepared myself for the death of my son, and my heart is glad that such a thing may not be necessary for yet awhile."
Mithrandir nodded. "No father wishes to bury their son, Denethor. However, as I stated earlier, I do have a matter of great importance to discuss with you. I see your weariness, brought on partially by your anxiety, but now I implore you: Boromir seems to have improved significantly; in any case, I'd say he'll live. Therefore, please allow me time to speak concerning my important business. I came here with the intention of staying only a single day, for I am hard pressed to meet someone elsewhere, a fortnight from now, and have little time to spare."
Denethor's face became somewhat stern as he met the wizard's gaze. Despite his weariness after a night of lost sleep, his voice was strong as ever. "What is it that you wish to discuss, Mithrandir? I would say you sound quite worried, and I perceive the slightest bitter undertone to your voice."
The wizard motioned briefly towards Faramir, who was listening intently from besides Boromir's bed, and muttered, "This is not the appropriate place to discuss even the topic of such matters."
The Steward suddenly seemed to remember the presence of his younger son. He noticed the spark of curiosity in the boy's eyes after hearing comments about "important business", though Denethor understood that a child so young had no reason to listen in on the affairs of Men. He spoke quietly, but firmly to Faramir. "My son, I believe that in your hurry to return to your brother, you once again ignored your hunger, and forgot to get a bite of breakfast. Perhaps now would be an appropriate time to do so, or at least catch the midday meal. It looks as though Boromir will shake off this illness; in any case, the threat of death no longer looms so closely over him."
Faramir opened his mouth, as if to protest, but his father gave him a stern glance, and the boy thought better of speaking. Now that he had pushed aside his worries for Boromir, he was immensely interested in hearing more from the strange wizard who had so suddenly appeared. Unfortunately, Faramir also knew that, if he did not leave when told to do so, Denethor would surely kick him out, and not too kindly either. Besides, he had to admit that his gnawing hunger had returned, stronger than before. Thus, the boy crawled to his feet, and made his way slowly towards the door. Here, he paused for a second, but, when he realized neither his father or the wizard would utter another word in his presence, he walked back into the great hall, closing the door behind him.
Mithrandir waited until Faramir was out of sight, then gave Boromir a questioning glance. Soon, however, it became obvious to him that the elder boy, even after the medicine, was still too exhausted and feverish to discern anything of much importance from the conversation around him. The wizard spoke to Denethor. "Your other son, whom lays here upon the bed will understand little of what we say, due to his current state, and I daresay he will remember naught of it by tomorrow morn. Thus, with your leave, I would speak."
Denethor turned his attention to Mithrandir. "I still am certain that I will care not for your words, though you have saved my son, and I suppose I can lend you an ear for perhaps an hour or so. Speak now."
"Very well. I come here to discuss with you matters concerning a palantÃr..."
********
Faramir felt unhappy once again as he entered the kitchens; thought this second time it was not over grief for Boromir. In fact, the small boy, after meeting the strange wizard and seeing him administer his powerful medicine, felt certain that his brother would soon be well. He was now feeling disappointed over his exclusion from the "grown Men" (or so he thought of it) conversation that was occuring in the room he shared with his brother.
"I just wanted to hear a little of what they were saying," he muttered to himself. "I'm not that young..."
Even as he sat down, and had delicous foods of many types brought before him, he still wasn't pleased. Faramir felt as though he had been cast aside, forgotten, like clothes that grow too old and worn to be of any use. He continued talking to himself, even as he ate. "I wonder what they're talking about," he said, through a mouthful of bread. "I bet it's something good!"
One of the servants gave him a glance of disapproval for speaking with a mouthful of food, but the small boy paid little attention. Instead, he continued mumbling to himself, this time incoherently.
Eventually, Faramir managed to finish his meal. He stood up quickly, nearly knocking his plate to the floor, and, in his hurry to get back to the bed chamber, managed to trip over the bench. The boy landed on the stone floor with a dull thud.
A sharp pain ran through his knees, but he simply scrambled to his feet. Ignoring a few chuckles from the servants, he bolted out of the kitchen and back into the great hall.
********
Faramir had spent perhaps a half-hour away from the bedroom, eating his meal. During this time, he had been too far away to discern the rising voices that emerged from the place he had left. As he made his way quickly back to Boromir's room, however, he suddenly caught some angry shouts. In fact, they were becoming so loud that a few others in the vicinity paused for a moment, listening to the voices echoing across the stone walls.
"You will NOT order me around in my own home!"
"Such foolish actions endanger your kingdom! You cannot continue!"
"Foolish actions, you call them! Many a time I have seen things, giving me valuable knowledge, capable of protecting my men!"
"Who knows what evil presence may also make use of the seeing-stones?!"
"Noble Men are powerful enough to avoid corruption by evil forces!"
"It is too great a risk! And it is begining to wear you down, Denethor! You age more quickly than you should!"
"I age in my own time! Now OUT! Begone! You may have saved my son, which I still may be grateful for, but your words serve to negate much of your noble action!"
Faramir reached the door to the bedroom, and had to leap clear when it suddenly sprang open. The wizard Mithrandir stormed out, his face red with a combination of anger and frustration. He spotted the young boy, and paused for a brief moment, giving him a look of appraisal. Faramir gazed up at him in confusion. What had occured between the wizard and the Steward while he was away?
At that moment, Denethor burst through the door, shaking his fist. "You bring your cursed ideas here this day! Next time you shall not be welcome, Mithrandir. I order you to leave the city of Minas Tirith now!"
Mithrandir turned his gaze away from the boy, and looked the Steward in the eye. His initial anger seemed to be fading, and his voice was a bit calmer, shaking only slightly. "I fear for your kingdom if you continue to use the seeing-stone," he stated. "Do not let wisdom fail you, Denethor. If need be, look to your sons." His eyes shifted to Faramir for an instant; then, with a swish of his gray cloak, he strode towards the door at the front of the hall. Soon, he was out of sight.
The Steward managed to calm himself with a few deep breaths, though his face was still red. All of the people who happened to be nearby, save only Faramir, immediately percieved their leader's foul mood, and quickly found ways of dissappearing from the vicinity. Denethor mumbled a few phrases to himself, before turning back towards Boromir's room.
As he walked through the doorway, he suddenly spoke to Faramir. "I would hope that my sons would trust more in their own father than in the mysterious works of wizards," he stated grimly. He then entered the bedroom, to continue his care of Boromir, and shut the door firmly behind him.
Faramir simply stood there. He was still slightly curious concerning the conversation between Denethor and Mithrandir.
However, he found himself unable to follow his father back into the room.
Note: In case you are unsure, an example of a palantÃr (or seeing-stone) is the round, black stone Saruman uses to communicate with Sauron. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe there are 9 in total.
_____________________________________________________________
As the hours crept by slowly, deliberately, it appeared as though Faramir's words might indeed be true. Even after a single dose of Mithrandir's unusually potent medicine, Boromir began to breath more easily. A rattling noise was still present in his lungs, but it grew fainter as time wore on, and the rivers of sweat seemed to cease their flowing down the boy's face. Denethor managed a relieved sigh when he felt his eldest son's forehead and found it not so warm to the touch as before.
"Your strange healing potion appears to be taking effect," he murmured, more to himself than to the wizard standing nearby. The Steward turned, then, speaking a bit louder said, "And for that I thank you. I could not have prepared myself for the death of my son, and my heart is glad that such a thing may not be necessary for yet awhile."
Mithrandir nodded. "No father wishes to bury their son, Denethor. However, as I stated earlier, I do have a matter of great importance to discuss with you. I see your weariness, brought on partially by your anxiety, but now I implore you: Boromir seems to have improved significantly; in any case, I'd say he'll live. Therefore, please allow me time to speak concerning my important business. I came here with the intention of staying only a single day, for I am hard pressed to meet someone elsewhere, a fortnight from now, and have little time to spare."
Denethor's face became somewhat stern as he met the wizard's gaze. Despite his weariness after a night of lost sleep, his voice was strong as ever. "What is it that you wish to discuss, Mithrandir? I would say you sound quite worried, and I perceive the slightest bitter undertone to your voice."
The wizard motioned briefly towards Faramir, who was listening intently from besides Boromir's bed, and muttered, "This is not the appropriate place to discuss even the topic of such matters."
The Steward suddenly seemed to remember the presence of his younger son. He noticed the spark of curiosity in the boy's eyes after hearing comments about "important business", though Denethor understood that a child so young had no reason to listen in on the affairs of Men. He spoke quietly, but firmly to Faramir. "My son, I believe that in your hurry to return to your brother, you once again ignored your hunger, and forgot to get a bite of breakfast. Perhaps now would be an appropriate time to do so, or at least catch the midday meal. It looks as though Boromir will shake off this illness; in any case, the threat of death no longer looms so closely over him."
Faramir opened his mouth, as if to protest, but his father gave him a stern glance, and the boy thought better of speaking. Now that he had pushed aside his worries for Boromir, he was immensely interested in hearing more from the strange wizard who had so suddenly appeared. Unfortunately, Faramir also knew that, if he did not leave when told to do so, Denethor would surely kick him out, and not too kindly either. Besides, he had to admit that his gnawing hunger had returned, stronger than before. Thus, the boy crawled to his feet, and made his way slowly towards the door. Here, he paused for a second, but, when he realized neither his father or the wizard would utter another word in his presence, he walked back into the great hall, closing the door behind him.
Mithrandir waited until Faramir was out of sight, then gave Boromir a questioning glance. Soon, however, it became obvious to him that the elder boy, even after the medicine, was still too exhausted and feverish to discern anything of much importance from the conversation around him. The wizard spoke to Denethor. "Your other son, whom lays here upon the bed will understand little of what we say, due to his current state, and I daresay he will remember naught of it by tomorrow morn. Thus, with your leave, I would speak."
Denethor turned his attention to Mithrandir. "I still am certain that I will care not for your words, though you have saved my son, and I suppose I can lend you an ear for perhaps an hour or so. Speak now."
"Very well. I come here to discuss with you matters concerning a palantÃr..."
********
Faramir felt unhappy once again as he entered the kitchens; thought this second time it was not over grief for Boromir. In fact, the small boy, after meeting the strange wizard and seeing him administer his powerful medicine, felt certain that his brother would soon be well. He was now feeling disappointed over his exclusion from the "grown Men" (or so he thought of it) conversation that was occuring in the room he shared with his brother.
"I just wanted to hear a little of what they were saying," he muttered to himself. "I'm not that young..."
Even as he sat down, and had delicous foods of many types brought before him, he still wasn't pleased. Faramir felt as though he had been cast aside, forgotten, like clothes that grow too old and worn to be of any use. He continued talking to himself, even as he ate. "I wonder what they're talking about," he said, through a mouthful of bread. "I bet it's something good!"
One of the servants gave him a glance of disapproval for speaking with a mouthful of food, but the small boy paid little attention. Instead, he continued mumbling to himself, this time incoherently.
Eventually, Faramir managed to finish his meal. He stood up quickly, nearly knocking his plate to the floor, and, in his hurry to get back to the bed chamber, managed to trip over the bench. The boy landed on the stone floor with a dull thud.
A sharp pain ran through his knees, but he simply scrambled to his feet. Ignoring a few chuckles from the servants, he bolted out of the kitchen and back into the great hall.
********
Faramir had spent perhaps a half-hour away from the bedroom, eating his meal. During this time, he had been too far away to discern the rising voices that emerged from the place he had left. As he made his way quickly back to Boromir's room, however, he suddenly caught some angry shouts. In fact, they were becoming so loud that a few others in the vicinity paused for a moment, listening to the voices echoing across the stone walls.
"You will NOT order me around in my own home!"
"Such foolish actions endanger your kingdom! You cannot continue!"
"Foolish actions, you call them! Many a time I have seen things, giving me valuable knowledge, capable of protecting my men!"
"Who knows what evil presence may also make use of the seeing-stones?!"
"Noble Men are powerful enough to avoid corruption by evil forces!"
"It is too great a risk! And it is begining to wear you down, Denethor! You age more quickly than you should!"
"I age in my own time! Now OUT! Begone! You may have saved my son, which I still may be grateful for, but your words serve to negate much of your noble action!"
Faramir reached the door to the bedroom, and had to leap clear when it suddenly sprang open. The wizard Mithrandir stormed out, his face red with a combination of anger and frustration. He spotted the young boy, and paused for a brief moment, giving him a look of appraisal. Faramir gazed up at him in confusion. What had occured between the wizard and the Steward while he was away?
At that moment, Denethor burst through the door, shaking his fist. "You bring your cursed ideas here this day! Next time you shall not be welcome, Mithrandir. I order you to leave the city of Minas Tirith now!"
Mithrandir turned his gaze away from the boy, and looked the Steward in the eye. His initial anger seemed to be fading, and his voice was a bit calmer, shaking only slightly. "I fear for your kingdom if you continue to use the seeing-stone," he stated. "Do not let wisdom fail you, Denethor. If need be, look to your sons." His eyes shifted to Faramir for an instant; then, with a swish of his gray cloak, he strode towards the door at the front of the hall. Soon, he was out of sight.
The Steward managed to calm himself with a few deep breaths, though his face was still red. All of the people who happened to be nearby, save only Faramir, immediately percieved their leader's foul mood, and quickly found ways of dissappearing from the vicinity. Denethor mumbled a few phrases to himself, before turning back towards Boromir's room.
As he walked through the doorway, he suddenly spoke to Faramir. "I would hope that my sons would trust more in their own father than in the mysterious works of wizards," he stated grimly. He then entered the bedroom, to continue his care of Boromir, and shut the door firmly behind him.
Faramir simply stood there. He was still slightly curious concerning the conversation between Denethor and Mithrandir.
However, he found himself unable to follow his father back into the room.
