If Denethor thought it was unusual that Faramir had acquired a bow, he said nothing of the fact. After all, he was confident that it had not been acquired through dishonest means, and, he did not expect his generally careful younger son to do anything TOO risky with his new weapon, so he let the matter rest. The Steward had more important things to worry about anyways; like keeping a shaky peace with Harad, the kingdom of Men to the south.
Thus, Faramir was allowed to keep the fine bow in his possession, with which he practiced his archery skills on a daily basis. Boromir and a few of the other boys in Gondor watched in envy, knowing that it might be a long while before they ever owned a bow of that quality.
********
Around two years passed. Boromir and Faramir shared a relatively peaceful lifestyle, despite their interest in adventure. They stuck to their studies (though Boromir grew to dislike them more and more as the days passed), and were eventually granted greater freedom to roam the city. Denethor seemed to be mostly at ease. There had been no sign of a threat from Harad for many months, and Gondor was having little difficulty driving off the Orc attacks scattered across the eastern borders.
One warm day in summer, Denethor summoned his two sons to a private meeting in one of the small rooms adjacent to the great hall. It appeared as though the sunny weather had done wonders to the Steward's mood, for he smiled as he saw Boromir and Faramir approach. Both boys had somewhat suspicious looks on their faces, for normally they were not called in this way unless there was something negative to discuss.
Boromir kneeled before Denethor; then gazed up into his eyes. "My father," he began nervously. "Why have you requested us at this hour? Surely we haven't done anything to...displease you?"
Denethor laughed. "No, my son," he replied. "In fact, I have some news that may be of interest to you. I'm sure you're aware of the fact that Minas Tirith has received no threats from either Harad or Mordor for a considerable length of time." His gaze swept across both his sons. "A few of my messengers who arrived only yesterday morning confirmed this fact."
Boromir still looked a little puzzled. "This is not something new to us, father..." he began.
Faramir cut him off abruptly. His keen eyes and mind had perceived the hidden meaning behind the Steward's message. "Can we really go outside the walls?" he exclaimed, excitement shining through his face.
Denethor was slightly taken aback that his younger son read his thoughts so easily, yet he did not let it show. "I see you have guessed my words, Faramir, and indeed, it is so. I have decided that both of you are now old enough to venture a little ways out of Minas Tirith. The Pelennor is not a very dangerous place in this time, for no enemies have been sighted nearby, and there are still some soldiers patrolling, making it safe for travelers."
Now Boromir shared his brother's thrilled expression. "Really father?" he nearly shouted.
The Steward nodded firmly. "Yes, though there's no need to yell about it. I give both you and Faramir permission to spend the day outside the city walls, so long as you are back before the setting sun, and do not wander completely out of sight." He paused for a moment, and his gray eyes suddenly grew stern. "There is one more thing. I forbid you to split from one another's company. Faramir cannot wander around alone, and I will only feel completely secure if you remain together."
Both boys immediately nodded, accepting the terms. It was unlikely that they would have gone separate ways anyway, even if it had not been forbidden.
Denethor waved his hand slightly in a gesture of dismissal. "You are now free to go," he stated calmly. "Remember my words, and heed my warning against splitting apart!"
Boromir bowed slightly in a show of respect, then bolted from the room. Faramir ran quickly after him, though in his haste he forgot to bow. The Steward heard the two pairs of footsteps echo quietly through the hall as they slowly faded away.
********
Perhaps ten minutes had passed since the conversation with Denethor, but already Boromir and Faramir were running through the streets of Minas Tirith, dodging anything that got in their way. Boromir was in front, wearing his sword sheathed on his belt, and carrying a small bag of with a hastily packed lunch. Faramir raced behind him, his own wooden sword at his belt, while he firmly grasped his prize bow. A few people glanced up in surprise when they saw the two boys bolting past, but most took little notice, for they had other tasks to occupy their minds.
Eventually, Boromir and Faramir went through the very first city gate. A guard attempted to stop them for questioning, but his partner saw that the boys were those of Denethor, and waved them through. Thus, the two brothers ran swiftly out of the city, as they had a few instances before, although this was the first time they did so without breaking their father's rules.
Boromir halted suddenly outside the gate, and inhaled deeply the scent of the wide grass plains that lay before him. He scanned the surrounding area in awe, and, in the deep morning light, it seemed to him that it rivaled the beauty of even the great white tower. Faramir stood next to him, panting a little, though he too was amazed by the sight that he beheld.
"It's incredible," sighed Boromir. "Behold! We are standing outside the white city, and the fact that we are now free to roam as we please makes it all the more beautiful!"
Faramir nodded, though he did not speak.
Boromir shook his head suddenly, as if he were emerging from a trance. "Come on!" he exclaimed. "The view is nice, but now that I've seen it, let's find something else to do!" These words seemed contradictory to his previous mindset, but now he paused again for a moment, thinking.
"Let's go hunting!" Faramir cried almost instantly, raising his bow above his head. "Daddy will be happy if we bring something home today."
"You mean father," corrected Boromir automatically. Now that Faramir was older, Boromir thought he ought to address the Steward by something a little, well, more formal.
Faramir ignored the comment. "Well," he continued impatiently. "Can we hunt?"
Boromir did not need to hear the question again, for even now, the thought was rushing through his mind. In fact, as the elder son further pondered the idea, it began to sound more and more enticing. It would be very entertaining to go hunting, and he relished the idea of presenting a magnificent trophy to Denethor. "Sure," he replied, unable to hide the rising excitement in his voice. "Sure," he repeated once again. "Let's catch something that will amaze father. I'm sure there's some sort of animal wandering around out here."
The two boys began walking further from the city. As they traveled, both paid careful attention to the surrounding landscape. Their patience was fairly impressive: Boromir usually seemed unable to sit still during tedious lessons, but now, he was completely focused on the task at hand. Faramir meanwhile, performed significantly better on his studies, yet his young age made him slightly impatient at times. Now however, he followed his brother silently, studying the ground.
********
Unfortunately, the two hunters seemed to be having no luck with their hunting. They collapsed to the ground several hours later, feeling extremely disappointed. Neither had caught even the slightest glimpse of prey.
Now, they slowly munched on their food, exchanging short bits of conversation about the surrounding land. Neither boy put his heart into the words, for, despite their newly acquired freedom, they suffered from dashed hopes due to the unsuccessful hunt.
Boromir was muttering part of a previous sword fighting lesson under his breath, when a sudden flash appeared in the corner of his eye. He instantly became silent, and turned his gaze in the direction of the movement. Faramir started to say something, but then noticed the intent gleam in his brother's eyes. He attempted to find the thing that Boromir fixated his glance upon.
Suddenly, a white speck of fur became visible, several hundred meters away. Both boys stifled their gasps, as they perceived a solitary animal moving across the plains. It was a deer, or a buck rather, for it sported a rather fine pair of horns atop its head.
For a moment, Boromir and Faramir could only stare at the animal. Soon, however, the elder boy snapped to his senses. Here was a fine trophy to bring Denethor, that had, by pure good luck, happened upon their picnic site!
Even as he thought, he was struck by the realization that he did not have anything in his possession capable of bringing down the buck. Of course, his sword was at his belt, but when he thought about it, the idea of him running through the grass, waving his sword seemed foolish. Even if he managed to sneak up to the animal, which he doubted, it would be nearly impossible to charge swiftly enough to even strike the creature.
Boromir let his glance fall on his younger brother, and new thoughts filled his head. "One could bring down the buck with a well-placed arrow," he mused to himself, "but it's Faramir's weapon, and not mine." However, a cunning gleam appeared in the corner of his eye, as he continued to ponder. "Well," he continued inside his head, "it may be Faramir's, but surely he will lend it to me. I'm older after all, and I would only borrow it for a moment."
"Faramir?" he whispered softly, almost below the point of hearing. "Will you lend me your bow for a moment?"
The younger brother would have normally complied, but he was already preparing one of his few arrows, and grasped the bow firmly. "Not right now," he mumbled, "I'm busy. Just give me a minute."
Boromir did not like the response. His thoughts raced through his head, growing more frantic as seconds passed. His little brother was going to slay the deer, while he sat around as a mere spectator. Then, Faramir would have something to show Denethor, while he returned empty handed. "It's not fair," thought Boromir fiercely. "I'm almost five years older! Why should he get the pride and glory today? He'll have lots of times in the future to show off his archery skills!"
The older brother spoke again, slightly louder. "Come on, Faramir," he begged, "just this once!"
"No, it's mine." Faramir was surprised that his brother inquired again, for, although he was a bit envious of the bow, he normally respected the fact that Faramir owned it.
Boromir suddenly grew angry, something that almost never occurred, especially towards his brother. He wanted the glory of slaying a buck! He couldn't let Faramir accomplish something so important while he simply watched! Boromir lunged towards the bow.
Faramir recoiled, startled. He became distracted from his careful task of fitting the arrow to his bow. "What are you doing!" he cried, fearful of the look on his brother's face. "It's mine! Go get your own bow!"
The elder brother halted momentarily upon hearing the cries, but soon a glare formed upon his face. Before Faramir could react, Boromir snatched one end of the bow, and pulled it towards him. Only the younger boy's previously firm grasp prevented him from completely losing the weapon.
"Give it back!" cried Faramir outloud, shaking slightly at his brother's anger. Then, a stubbornness filled his mind. "It's mine!" he thought to himself. "I said I'd let him borrow it later, but now he's trying to steal it!" His grip on the bow tightened.
"I only want it for a minute," grunted Boromir, pulling at the bow.
"It's mine!"
"One minute; that's all I ask."
"No!"
"Yes!"
"NO!!! IT'S NOT YOURS!!!"
Suddenly, Boromir noticed that the magnificent buck had been alerted to Faramir's shouts, and was now leaping away from the noise. Disgusted, he let go of the bow, causing Faramir to stumble backwards. However, Boromir did not calm down; instead, his mounting frustration seemed to turn towards rage.
"Look what you did now!" the older boy yelled at his brother. "The buck got away, just because you wouldn't let me borrow your bow for ONE lousy minute! And now, I won't have anything to show father, and neither will you, thanks to your stupidity!"
Faramir had been initially shocked by Boromir's behavior, but now he angrily stood up, firmly planted his feet, and faced him. "I could have shot the buck," the younger boy said stubbornly. "You're just mad 'cause I was going to get him-"
His words cut Boromir deeply, for indeed, Faramir could discern why his brother behaved so fiercely. However, Faramir was not prepared for what happened next.
The enraged Boromir reacted impulsively as the bitter truth in the statement struck him. It was true, he realized, that Faramir could most likely have shot the buck, possibly bringing him down, while he, the elder brother, forced to borrow another's weapon, would probably have missed even with the finest bow in Gondor. It just wasn't fair, and now, he'd lost any chance at felling the animal, thanks to his brother's yells! Without thinking, Boromir drew his sword, and smacked Faramir in the face as hard as he could with the metal hilt.
Faramir's eyes widened, and he howled in pain as the blow connected. His hands immediately flew to his face, and he held them there. Tears began flowing from his eyes, and mingled with the blood that dripped from a gash across his cheek. Then, sobbing, he dropped his bow and scrambled away from his brother as swiftly as he could.
Thus, Faramir was allowed to keep the fine bow in his possession, with which he practiced his archery skills on a daily basis. Boromir and a few of the other boys in Gondor watched in envy, knowing that it might be a long while before they ever owned a bow of that quality.
********
Around two years passed. Boromir and Faramir shared a relatively peaceful lifestyle, despite their interest in adventure. They stuck to their studies (though Boromir grew to dislike them more and more as the days passed), and were eventually granted greater freedom to roam the city. Denethor seemed to be mostly at ease. There had been no sign of a threat from Harad for many months, and Gondor was having little difficulty driving off the Orc attacks scattered across the eastern borders.
One warm day in summer, Denethor summoned his two sons to a private meeting in one of the small rooms adjacent to the great hall. It appeared as though the sunny weather had done wonders to the Steward's mood, for he smiled as he saw Boromir and Faramir approach. Both boys had somewhat suspicious looks on their faces, for normally they were not called in this way unless there was something negative to discuss.
Boromir kneeled before Denethor; then gazed up into his eyes. "My father," he began nervously. "Why have you requested us at this hour? Surely we haven't done anything to...displease you?"
Denethor laughed. "No, my son," he replied. "In fact, I have some news that may be of interest to you. I'm sure you're aware of the fact that Minas Tirith has received no threats from either Harad or Mordor for a considerable length of time." His gaze swept across both his sons. "A few of my messengers who arrived only yesterday morning confirmed this fact."
Boromir still looked a little puzzled. "This is not something new to us, father..." he began.
Faramir cut him off abruptly. His keen eyes and mind had perceived the hidden meaning behind the Steward's message. "Can we really go outside the walls?" he exclaimed, excitement shining through his face.
Denethor was slightly taken aback that his younger son read his thoughts so easily, yet he did not let it show. "I see you have guessed my words, Faramir, and indeed, it is so. I have decided that both of you are now old enough to venture a little ways out of Minas Tirith. The Pelennor is not a very dangerous place in this time, for no enemies have been sighted nearby, and there are still some soldiers patrolling, making it safe for travelers."
Now Boromir shared his brother's thrilled expression. "Really father?" he nearly shouted.
The Steward nodded firmly. "Yes, though there's no need to yell about it. I give both you and Faramir permission to spend the day outside the city walls, so long as you are back before the setting sun, and do not wander completely out of sight." He paused for a moment, and his gray eyes suddenly grew stern. "There is one more thing. I forbid you to split from one another's company. Faramir cannot wander around alone, and I will only feel completely secure if you remain together."
Both boys immediately nodded, accepting the terms. It was unlikely that they would have gone separate ways anyway, even if it had not been forbidden.
Denethor waved his hand slightly in a gesture of dismissal. "You are now free to go," he stated calmly. "Remember my words, and heed my warning against splitting apart!"
Boromir bowed slightly in a show of respect, then bolted from the room. Faramir ran quickly after him, though in his haste he forgot to bow. The Steward heard the two pairs of footsteps echo quietly through the hall as they slowly faded away.
********
Perhaps ten minutes had passed since the conversation with Denethor, but already Boromir and Faramir were running through the streets of Minas Tirith, dodging anything that got in their way. Boromir was in front, wearing his sword sheathed on his belt, and carrying a small bag of with a hastily packed lunch. Faramir raced behind him, his own wooden sword at his belt, while he firmly grasped his prize bow. A few people glanced up in surprise when they saw the two boys bolting past, but most took little notice, for they had other tasks to occupy their minds.
Eventually, Boromir and Faramir went through the very first city gate. A guard attempted to stop them for questioning, but his partner saw that the boys were those of Denethor, and waved them through. Thus, the two brothers ran swiftly out of the city, as they had a few instances before, although this was the first time they did so without breaking their father's rules.
Boromir halted suddenly outside the gate, and inhaled deeply the scent of the wide grass plains that lay before him. He scanned the surrounding area in awe, and, in the deep morning light, it seemed to him that it rivaled the beauty of even the great white tower. Faramir stood next to him, panting a little, though he too was amazed by the sight that he beheld.
"It's incredible," sighed Boromir. "Behold! We are standing outside the white city, and the fact that we are now free to roam as we please makes it all the more beautiful!"
Faramir nodded, though he did not speak.
Boromir shook his head suddenly, as if he were emerging from a trance. "Come on!" he exclaimed. "The view is nice, but now that I've seen it, let's find something else to do!" These words seemed contradictory to his previous mindset, but now he paused again for a moment, thinking.
"Let's go hunting!" Faramir cried almost instantly, raising his bow above his head. "Daddy will be happy if we bring something home today."
"You mean father," corrected Boromir automatically. Now that Faramir was older, Boromir thought he ought to address the Steward by something a little, well, more formal.
Faramir ignored the comment. "Well," he continued impatiently. "Can we hunt?"
Boromir did not need to hear the question again, for even now, the thought was rushing through his mind. In fact, as the elder son further pondered the idea, it began to sound more and more enticing. It would be very entertaining to go hunting, and he relished the idea of presenting a magnificent trophy to Denethor. "Sure," he replied, unable to hide the rising excitement in his voice. "Sure," he repeated once again. "Let's catch something that will amaze father. I'm sure there's some sort of animal wandering around out here."
The two boys began walking further from the city. As they traveled, both paid careful attention to the surrounding landscape. Their patience was fairly impressive: Boromir usually seemed unable to sit still during tedious lessons, but now, he was completely focused on the task at hand. Faramir meanwhile, performed significantly better on his studies, yet his young age made him slightly impatient at times. Now however, he followed his brother silently, studying the ground.
********
Unfortunately, the two hunters seemed to be having no luck with their hunting. They collapsed to the ground several hours later, feeling extremely disappointed. Neither had caught even the slightest glimpse of prey.
Now, they slowly munched on their food, exchanging short bits of conversation about the surrounding land. Neither boy put his heart into the words, for, despite their newly acquired freedom, they suffered from dashed hopes due to the unsuccessful hunt.
Boromir was muttering part of a previous sword fighting lesson under his breath, when a sudden flash appeared in the corner of his eye. He instantly became silent, and turned his gaze in the direction of the movement. Faramir started to say something, but then noticed the intent gleam in his brother's eyes. He attempted to find the thing that Boromir fixated his glance upon.
Suddenly, a white speck of fur became visible, several hundred meters away. Both boys stifled their gasps, as they perceived a solitary animal moving across the plains. It was a deer, or a buck rather, for it sported a rather fine pair of horns atop its head.
For a moment, Boromir and Faramir could only stare at the animal. Soon, however, the elder boy snapped to his senses. Here was a fine trophy to bring Denethor, that had, by pure good luck, happened upon their picnic site!
Even as he thought, he was struck by the realization that he did not have anything in his possession capable of bringing down the buck. Of course, his sword was at his belt, but when he thought about it, the idea of him running through the grass, waving his sword seemed foolish. Even if he managed to sneak up to the animal, which he doubted, it would be nearly impossible to charge swiftly enough to even strike the creature.
Boromir let his glance fall on his younger brother, and new thoughts filled his head. "One could bring down the buck with a well-placed arrow," he mused to himself, "but it's Faramir's weapon, and not mine." However, a cunning gleam appeared in the corner of his eye, as he continued to ponder. "Well," he continued inside his head, "it may be Faramir's, but surely he will lend it to me. I'm older after all, and I would only borrow it for a moment."
"Faramir?" he whispered softly, almost below the point of hearing. "Will you lend me your bow for a moment?"
The younger brother would have normally complied, but he was already preparing one of his few arrows, and grasped the bow firmly. "Not right now," he mumbled, "I'm busy. Just give me a minute."
Boromir did not like the response. His thoughts raced through his head, growing more frantic as seconds passed. His little brother was going to slay the deer, while he sat around as a mere spectator. Then, Faramir would have something to show Denethor, while he returned empty handed. "It's not fair," thought Boromir fiercely. "I'm almost five years older! Why should he get the pride and glory today? He'll have lots of times in the future to show off his archery skills!"
The older brother spoke again, slightly louder. "Come on, Faramir," he begged, "just this once!"
"No, it's mine." Faramir was surprised that his brother inquired again, for, although he was a bit envious of the bow, he normally respected the fact that Faramir owned it.
Boromir suddenly grew angry, something that almost never occurred, especially towards his brother. He wanted the glory of slaying a buck! He couldn't let Faramir accomplish something so important while he simply watched! Boromir lunged towards the bow.
Faramir recoiled, startled. He became distracted from his careful task of fitting the arrow to his bow. "What are you doing!" he cried, fearful of the look on his brother's face. "It's mine! Go get your own bow!"
The elder brother halted momentarily upon hearing the cries, but soon a glare formed upon his face. Before Faramir could react, Boromir snatched one end of the bow, and pulled it towards him. Only the younger boy's previously firm grasp prevented him from completely losing the weapon.
"Give it back!" cried Faramir outloud, shaking slightly at his brother's anger. Then, a stubbornness filled his mind. "It's mine!" he thought to himself. "I said I'd let him borrow it later, but now he's trying to steal it!" His grip on the bow tightened.
"I only want it for a minute," grunted Boromir, pulling at the bow.
"It's mine!"
"One minute; that's all I ask."
"No!"
"Yes!"
"NO!!! IT'S NOT YOURS!!!"
Suddenly, Boromir noticed that the magnificent buck had been alerted to Faramir's shouts, and was now leaping away from the noise. Disgusted, he let go of the bow, causing Faramir to stumble backwards. However, Boromir did not calm down; instead, his mounting frustration seemed to turn towards rage.
"Look what you did now!" the older boy yelled at his brother. "The buck got away, just because you wouldn't let me borrow your bow for ONE lousy minute! And now, I won't have anything to show father, and neither will you, thanks to your stupidity!"
Faramir had been initially shocked by Boromir's behavior, but now he angrily stood up, firmly planted his feet, and faced him. "I could have shot the buck," the younger boy said stubbornly. "You're just mad 'cause I was going to get him-"
His words cut Boromir deeply, for indeed, Faramir could discern why his brother behaved so fiercely. However, Faramir was not prepared for what happened next.
The enraged Boromir reacted impulsively as the bitter truth in the statement struck him. It was true, he realized, that Faramir could most likely have shot the buck, possibly bringing him down, while he, the elder brother, forced to borrow another's weapon, would probably have missed even with the finest bow in Gondor. It just wasn't fair, and now, he'd lost any chance at felling the animal, thanks to his brother's yells! Without thinking, Boromir drew his sword, and smacked Faramir in the face as hard as he could with the metal hilt.
Faramir's eyes widened, and he howled in pain as the blow connected. His hands immediately flew to his face, and he held them there. Tears began flowing from his eyes, and mingled with the blood that dripped from a gash across his cheek. Then, sobbing, he dropped his bow and scrambled away from his brother as swiftly as he could.
