*hugs computer* Finally, on a computer again! It's been soooo long...like
5 days now...
-A.Katz Omnipotent King: *shakes head* Yep, it's always those sinister men that cause all the problems.
-AzNnEgGrOePnOi: Yeah, I'll add more drama between the two brothers, especially as they get older, and Gondor begins to experience more problems.
-Sammy: Good point about Bardok possibly attacking either Denethor or Boromir, but, as you will see in this chapter, he's using Faramir as more of a tool, instead of deciding to harm him... It's partly due to conviencience; after all, the 8 year old Faramir makes an easier target than the 13 year old Boromir, or the Steward.
-Shlee Verde: You'll have to read this chapter to find out what happens... Also, thanks for the comments :)
-Lirenel: Of course I'll keep writing :) As for how Faramir fares, well, I probably wouldn't do anything TOO bad to him...
-Mystra: Thanks, I am quite flattered, because this is the first fanfic I've actually written (although I make them up in my head all the time). I'll certainly continue this one.
-Agador-of-the-woods: Lol, I can't tell you what will happen, but it's in this chapter.
-Hufflepuff_Heiress: Yep, it was an evil cliffhanger, wasn't it? Don't worry, this one isn't nearly that bad.
Thanks for the reviews everyone! Now for the story, before my LOTR muses (Aragorn and Boromir) chase me around with flaming torches!
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Faramir froze as he heard the words of Bardok. The boy was terrified, possibly more terrified than he had ever felt in his life, but he still maintained enough common sense to remain still. It would not do him any good to struggle against the man, lest he wished to feel the sharpness of the sword.
Bardok sensed that he had frightened Faramir into submission, or at least he noticed that the boy no longer openly struggled, and loosened his grip ever so slightly as he carried him out of the bedroom. The man from Harad knew that he must work quickly, to avoid alerting any of the guards who might be making a random sweep of the tower. Though he had taken the simple measure of poisoning most of the drinks of the tower guards, he could not be sure how long it would take for the potion to begin its foul work, and whether or not all those present had consumed it. Also, Bardok had seen the older boy leave, and did not want to meet him in the hall. His plan would be spoiled if he was caught by Boromir, for it would nearly impossible to capture both boys at the same time without some sort of commotion, especially when he took into account the fact that the elder boy was certain to be considerably stronger than the one he now bore.
"No," thought Bardok, "better to work with what I have. Luck is with me now, for how was I to guess that the sons would be separated so easily, and I had need only to capture one? One is certainly enough to bargain with the Steward."
Bardok stepped quietly through the hall, his eyes nervously flitting back and forth, ever watchful. He knew the Steward's room had to be somewhere in the vicinity, though he knew not exactly where he would have to go to encounter Denethor. For a moment, the man from Harad considered forcing the boy to tell him, but he decided against it. Better to avoid the unnecessary sound that would be created by the question. Besides, it couldn't be that hard to find...
Suddenly, there was the soft sound of feet in the hall. Bardok swiftly concealed himself behind a pillar, suspecting that Boromir might be returning to his room. Sure enough, upon closer inspection, Bardok saw a yawning figure slowly walking in the direction of the bedroom. The boy appeared to be half asleep already, for the water in the small cup he carried periodically sloshed over the edge.
As soon as the boy had re-entered his bedroom, Bardok immediately returned to his search. He thought it was unlikely that Boromir would notice the absence of his younger brother; and even if he did, it was possible that the boy would attribute it to some sort of nightly wandering. Nonetheless, Bardok believed that the sooner he found Denethor, the better.
********
Indeed, Boromir, despite his weariness, did notice the absence of Faramir from his bed. However, instead of attributing it to some nightly wandering, he became slightly puzzled.
"I wonder where Faramir has gone," he mumbled to himself. "It is somewhat out of character for him to simply leave in the middle of the night. And even if he had, would I not have seen him somewhere?" Boromir yawned. "I suppose he'll be back soon enough. It's too late to puzzle over such things now." He returned to his bed, though he did not immediately fall asleep.
********
Faramir nervously glanced around the hall as Bardok carried him. He did not fully understand why the man had so suddenly turned against him, though a small part of his mind kept admitting that he had suspected something was wrong with Bardok, from the time he had first seen him in the hall.
Now however, there was little time for regrets. The man from Harad had halted outside Denethor's chamber, and a slight smile played across his face. Faramir saw a gleam in his eyes, and realized that his captor held him now with only a single hand, while the other slowly reached for the long sword tied at the man's belt. The boy cringed, his mind racing with possibilities.
"What is he going to do?" Faramir cried inside his head. "Why does he prepare to draw his sword? Is he going to use it against me?"
He had little time for such questions. Bardok suddenly tightened his grip on the boy, and, unsheathing his sword, shoved the door open. It slammed against the wall with a resounding echo, but Bardok barely noticed. Now was no longer the time for silence. Now was the time for action.
Faramir stiffened at the harsh sound of the man's voice, as it rumbled through the chamber. "Denethor of Gondor!" spoke Bardok, roughly holding up Faramir. "The time for conversation has passed. I am now in procession of your son, and you shall listen to my demands. Speak now, Steward"- he spat out the word, "or your son will never again."
Faramir felt the blade pressed against his throat, and he froze in fear. He longed to hear the familiar voice of someone, of anyone, but Bardok's challenge was met with only silence. Was there no one around to help him?
Bardok spoke again. "Denethor! Are you too much a coward to speak, to save the life of your son!" The man waited.
There was still no answer, although it was not complete silence that greeted Bardok. Faramir heard the sound of running footsteps through the hall, coming quickly closer, though the boy could not see their source.
Suddenly, Bardok spun around, still holding Faramir. He removed his sword so it no longer was pressed against the boy's throat, and held it out ahead of him, into the darkened hall. Faramir heard the footsteps skid to a halt, and saw Boromir, carrying his short sword. His previous sleepiness had left his face upon hearing the yells of Bardok. Instead, Boromir was now staring back and forth between the man from Harad, and Faramir, both furious and terrified as a cold feeling of betrayal overwhelmed him.
Bardok laughed. "Ahh, a little company, I see. Come to save your little brother, have you?"
Boromir hardly heard the soft, dangerous words as they were spoken, for he was beginning to shake. "I saw three guards lying facedown in the hall, even as I ran here. They were not there mere minutes ago, when I left my room for a short time." His voice shook. "What have you done to them? And how dare you threaten my father and brother like that!" Boromir pointed his sword at the man, though it was hardly a threatening gesture in the eyes of Bardok.
"So," replied Bardok, half to himself. "Part of my plan goes well. The poison has taken effect on the guards." He then glared at Boromir. "Do you really think you can thwart me? Drop your sword, unless you would like me to harm your brother." He once again pressed the blade to Faramir's throat, causing the boy to gasp.
Fear flashed across Boromir's face, try as he might to hide it. "Don't you dare harm him!" he exclaimed.
"Then do as I command."
Boromir silently, reluctantly allowed his sword to slip from his hand, and it clattered to the stone floor.
Bardok smirked. "Much better," he laughed, then continued. "Now, my dear boy, you are to tell me where the Steward currently resides, for he is either too deaf to hear the noises we've created, or is simply not present. There has been no movement in his room, nor the sound of any snoring, so I deem the latter to be true. Where is he?"
Boromir opened his mouth as if to speak, but he did not have a chance to reply. Instantly, a dark shadow emerged from the statue, and hurtled into Bardok. The man from Harad was knocked to the ground, releasing his grip on Faramir in the process. However, as the boy attempted to scramble out of the way, he felt Bardok latch on to his foot.
Denethor stood above Bardok, clothed in the chain mail he often wore underneath his regular clothes, and pointed his sword at the man. "Release him," the Steward hissed, his cold gray eyes boring holes through the man from Harad.
Bardok complied, as reluctantly as Boromir had over the release of his sword, and Faramir slipped away instantly to join his brother.
"Now," continued Denethor, "you must answer to me. A wise leader uses others as his pawns, if he is intelligent, but he can take matters into his own hands, if need be. Get up!" He waited impatiently.
Bardok realized that he had been caught, but he was not about to give up so easily. The man from Harad pretended to rise to his feet, yet, in doing so, his eyes darted ever so slightly to the sword he had dropped during the surprise attack from the Steward. The usually perceptive Denethor did not notice, for his anger at the betrayal of Bardok burned in his mind.
Faramir and Boromir, standing only a few feet away, were not blind to the movement however, brief though it was, and the latter suddenly reached forward toward the sword in a deft motion.
Everything else happened very quickly in the eyes of all those involved. Bardok saw the possible removal of his sword as the disappearance of his last hope for escape. The man from Harad swiftly kicked Denethor, knocking the Steward off of his feet, and wrenched the sword blade from Boromir. The boy jerked away with a cry, clutching his now bleeding hand. Faramir leaped backwards upon seeing Bardok leap up and the boy ducked as the man began swinging his sword in the direction of both brothers. Denethor, from his spot on the floor, grabbed the foot of Bardok.
"Run!" the Steward shouted at his sons, struggling to keep his grip on Bardok. "Get out of here! NOW!"
Boromir was rooted to the spot. For a split second, the idea of running away from any enemy irked his pride, despite his fear of Bardok. Faramir, however, had no such qualms. He grabbed his older brother's clothes, and attempted to drag him away.
Boromir returned to his senses, realizing that it was his duty to protect his younger brother. He suddenly began running across the hall, closely followed by Faramir. Bardok lunged after them, breaking the Steward's grip, and the sound of his breathing was close behind the two boys.
********
Mere moments later, Boromir and Faramir scrambled to the very top of the white tower. Even in the haste of fleeing from Bardok, Boromir had planned on simply exiting the hall through its main door; however, he found that it had been blocked. In his desperation to escape, he had then dragged Faramir towards the first familiar doorway available; the door leading to the top of the tower.
Now, the brothers paused for a second, gasping for breath. Although neither of them could perceive any footsteps behind them in the stairwell, both boys, especially Faramir, were visibly shaking. Unable to grab Boromir's hand, for the older boy was already clutching his injured hand, Faramir latched himself on to his brother's arm, refusing to let go.
Suddenly, the sound of swords clashing reached the boys' ears. Apparently Denethor and Bardok were now engaged in a battle of sorts, about halfway up the winding tower stairs. Faramir fearfully turned his head in the direction of the sound.
"Do you think something bad will happen?" he asked Boromir.
"Of course not," murmured Boromir in the most convincing voice he could conjure. However, the older boy found himself unable to meet his brother's gaze, fearing that Faramir might then detect the true nature of the doubts that filled his mind. Boromir had rarely seen Denethor in the midst of a swordfight, for he generally left those matters to the guards, and the boy did not know how powerful an opponent Bardok might prove to be.
Faramir was not satisfied by Boromir's reply. "Are you sure?" he asked, as if he did not really believe what he had heard.
"Everything will be fine, Faramir. Father won't let anything bad happen, to himself, or to me and you. The men of Minas Tirith are valiant, after all." He still detected doubt on Faramir's face, and added, "Trust me."
Faramir nodded. "I will," he said softly.
The two brothers then became silent, listening to the sound of the battle down below.
********
Eventually, the sound of the swords clashing ceased. Swift footsteps could be heard now, upon the stairs, as a man scrambled towards the top of the tower. The brothers backed away from the stairwell, fearfully glancing in the direction of the noise. It appeared to be very close now.
Boromir stepped in from of Faramir, preparing to defend him if need be. He tried not to envision himself facing off with the powerful looking man from Harad, while his brother attempted to escape down the stairs. Who knew what sight might greet Faramir down there, even if he did mange to flee?
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the stairs, stepping out on to the top of the tower. He wearily stumbled towards the boys, then reached towards them.
Within seconds, Boromir and Faramir collapsed in relief into the strong comfort of Denethor's arms.
-A.Katz Omnipotent King: *shakes head* Yep, it's always those sinister men that cause all the problems.
-AzNnEgGrOePnOi: Yeah, I'll add more drama between the two brothers, especially as they get older, and Gondor begins to experience more problems.
-Sammy: Good point about Bardok possibly attacking either Denethor or Boromir, but, as you will see in this chapter, he's using Faramir as more of a tool, instead of deciding to harm him... It's partly due to conviencience; after all, the 8 year old Faramir makes an easier target than the 13 year old Boromir, or the Steward.
-Shlee Verde: You'll have to read this chapter to find out what happens... Also, thanks for the comments :)
-Lirenel: Of course I'll keep writing :) As for how Faramir fares, well, I probably wouldn't do anything TOO bad to him...
-Mystra: Thanks, I am quite flattered, because this is the first fanfic I've actually written (although I make them up in my head all the time). I'll certainly continue this one.
-Agador-of-the-woods: Lol, I can't tell you what will happen, but it's in this chapter.
-Hufflepuff_Heiress: Yep, it was an evil cliffhanger, wasn't it? Don't worry, this one isn't nearly that bad.
Thanks for the reviews everyone! Now for the story, before my LOTR muses (Aragorn and Boromir) chase me around with flaming torches!
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Faramir froze as he heard the words of Bardok. The boy was terrified, possibly more terrified than he had ever felt in his life, but he still maintained enough common sense to remain still. It would not do him any good to struggle against the man, lest he wished to feel the sharpness of the sword.
Bardok sensed that he had frightened Faramir into submission, or at least he noticed that the boy no longer openly struggled, and loosened his grip ever so slightly as he carried him out of the bedroom. The man from Harad knew that he must work quickly, to avoid alerting any of the guards who might be making a random sweep of the tower. Though he had taken the simple measure of poisoning most of the drinks of the tower guards, he could not be sure how long it would take for the potion to begin its foul work, and whether or not all those present had consumed it. Also, Bardok had seen the older boy leave, and did not want to meet him in the hall. His plan would be spoiled if he was caught by Boromir, for it would nearly impossible to capture both boys at the same time without some sort of commotion, especially when he took into account the fact that the elder boy was certain to be considerably stronger than the one he now bore.
"No," thought Bardok, "better to work with what I have. Luck is with me now, for how was I to guess that the sons would be separated so easily, and I had need only to capture one? One is certainly enough to bargain with the Steward."
Bardok stepped quietly through the hall, his eyes nervously flitting back and forth, ever watchful. He knew the Steward's room had to be somewhere in the vicinity, though he knew not exactly where he would have to go to encounter Denethor. For a moment, the man from Harad considered forcing the boy to tell him, but he decided against it. Better to avoid the unnecessary sound that would be created by the question. Besides, it couldn't be that hard to find...
Suddenly, there was the soft sound of feet in the hall. Bardok swiftly concealed himself behind a pillar, suspecting that Boromir might be returning to his room. Sure enough, upon closer inspection, Bardok saw a yawning figure slowly walking in the direction of the bedroom. The boy appeared to be half asleep already, for the water in the small cup he carried periodically sloshed over the edge.
As soon as the boy had re-entered his bedroom, Bardok immediately returned to his search. He thought it was unlikely that Boromir would notice the absence of his younger brother; and even if he did, it was possible that the boy would attribute it to some sort of nightly wandering. Nonetheless, Bardok believed that the sooner he found Denethor, the better.
********
Indeed, Boromir, despite his weariness, did notice the absence of Faramir from his bed. However, instead of attributing it to some nightly wandering, he became slightly puzzled.
"I wonder where Faramir has gone," he mumbled to himself. "It is somewhat out of character for him to simply leave in the middle of the night. And even if he had, would I not have seen him somewhere?" Boromir yawned. "I suppose he'll be back soon enough. It's too late to puzzle over such things now." He returned to his bed, though he did not immediately fall asleep.
********
Faramir nervously glanced around the hall as Bardok carried him. He did not fully understand why the man had so suddenly turned against him, though a small part of his mind kept admitting that he had suspected something was wrong with Bardok, from the time he had first seen him in the hall.
Now however, there was little time for regrets. The man from Harad had halted outside Denethor's chamber, and a slight smile played across his face. Faramir saw a gleam in his eyes, and realized that his captor held him now with only a single hand, while the other slowly reached for the long sword tied at the man's belt. The boy cringed, his mind racing with possibilities.
"What is he going to do?" Faramir cried inside his head. "Why does he prepare to draw his sword? Is he going to use it against me?"
He had little time for such questions. Bardok suddenly tightened his grip on the boy, and, unsheathing his sword, shoved the door open. It slammed against the wall with a resounding echo, but Bardok barely noticed. Now was no longer the time for silence. Now was the time for action.
Faramir stiffened at the harsh sound of the man's voice, as it rumbled through the chamber. "Denethor of Gondor!" spoke Bardok, roughly holding up Faramir. "The time for conversation has passed. I am now in procession of your son, and you shall listen to my demands. Speak now, Steward"- he spat out the word, "or your son will never again."
Faramir felt the blade pressed against his throat, and he froze in fear. He longed to hear the familiar voice of someone, of anyone, but Bardok's challenge was met with only silence. Was there no one around to help him?
Bardok spoke again. "Denethor! Are you too much a coward to speak, to save the life of your son!" The man waited.
There was still no answer, although it was not complete silence that greeted Bardok. Faramir heard the sound of running footsteps through the hall, coming quickly closer, though the boy could not see their source.
Suddenly, Bardok spun around, still holding Faramir. He removed his sword so it no longer was pressed against the boy's throat, and held it out ahead of him, into the darkened hall. Faramir heard the footsteps skid to a halt, and saw Boromir, carrying his short sword. His previous sleepiness had left his face upon hearing the yells of Bardok. Instead, Boromir was now staring back and forth between the man from Harad, and Faramir, both furious and terrified as a cold feeling of betrayal overwhelmed him.
Bardok laughed. "Ahh, a little company, I see. Come to save your little brother, have you?"
Boromir hardly heard the soft, dangerous words as they were spoken, for he was beginning to shake. "I saw three guards lying facedown in the hall, even as I ran here. They were not there mere minutes ago, when I left my room for a short time." His voice shook. "What have you done to them? And how dare you threaten my father and brother like that!" Boromir pointed his sword at the man, though it was hardly a threatening gesture in the eyes of Bardok.
"So," replied Bardok, half to himself. "Part of my plan goes well. The poison has taken effect on the guards." He then glared at Boromir. "Do you really think you can thwart me? Drop your sword, unless you would like me to harm your brother." He once again pressed the blade to Faramir's throat, causing the boy to gasp.
Fear flashed across Boromir's face, try as he might to hide it. "Don't you dare harm him!" he exclaimed.
"Then do as I command."
Boromir silently, reluctantly allowed his sword to slip from his hand, and it clattered to the stone floor.
Bardok smirked. "Much better," he laughed, then continued. "Now, my dear boy, you are to tell me where the Steward currently resides, for he is either too deaf to hear the noises we've created, or is simply not present. There has been no movement in his room, nor the sound of any snoring, so I deem the latter to be true. Where is he?"
Boromir opened his mouth as if to speak, but he did not have a chance to reply. Instantly, a dark shadow emerged from the statue, and hurtled into Bardok. The man from Harad was knocked to the ground, releasing his grip on Faramir in the process. However, as the boy attempted to scramble out of the way, he felt Bardok latch on to his foot.
Denethor stood above Bardok, clothed in the chain mail he often wore underneath his regular clothes, and pointed his sword at the man. "Release him," the Steward hissed, his cold gray eyes boring holes through the man from Harad.
Bardok complied, as reluctantly as Boromir had over the release of his sword, and Faramir slipped away instantly to join his brother.
"Now," continued Denethor, "you must answer to me. A wise leader uses others as his pawns, if he is intelligent, but he can take matters into his own hands, if need be. Get up!" He waited impatiently.
Bardok realized that he had been caught, but he was not about to give up so easily. The man from Harad pretended to rise to his feet, yet, in doing so, his eyes darted ever so slightly to the sword he had dropped during the surprise attack from the Steward. The usually perceptive Denethor did not notice, for his anger at the betrayal of Bardok burned in his mind.
Faramir and Boromir, standing only a few feet away, were not blind to the movement however, brief though it was, and the latter suddenly reached forward toward the sword in a deft motion.
Everything else happened very quickly in the eyes of all those involved. Bardok saw the possible removal of his sword as the disappearance of his last hope for escape. The man from Harad swiftly kicked Denethor, knocking the Steward off of his feet, and wrenched the sword blade from Boromir. The boy jerked away with a cry, clutching his now bleeding hand. Faramir leaped backwards upon seeing Bardok leap up and the boy ducked as the man began swinging his sword in the direction of both brothers. Denethor, from his spot on the floor, grabbed the foot of Bardok.
"Run!" the Steward shouted at his sons, struggling to keep his grip on Bardok. "Get out of here! NOW!"
Boromir was rooted to the spot. For a split second, the idea of running away from any enemy irked his pride, despite his fear of Bardok. Faramir, however, had no such qualms. He grabbed his older brother's clothes, and attempted to drag him away.
Boromir returned to his senses, realizing that it was his duty to protect his younger brother. He suddenly began running across the hall, closely followed by Faramir. Bardok lunged after them, breaking the Steward's grip, and the sound of his breathing was close behind the two boys.
********
Mere moments later, Boromir and Faramir scrambled to the very top of the white tower. Even in the haste of fleeing from Bardok, Boromir had planned on simply exiting the hall through its main door; however, he found that it had been blocked. In his desperation to escape, he had then dragged Faramir towards the first familiar doorway available; the door leading to the top of the tower.
Now, the brothers paused for a second, gasping for breath. Although neither of them could perceive any footsteps behind them in the stairwell, both boys, especially Faramir, were visibly shaking. Unable to grab Boromir's hand, for the older boy was already clutching his injured hand, Faramir latched himself on to his brother's arm, refusing to let go.
Suddenly, the sound of swords clashing reached the boys' ears. Apparently Denethor and Bardok were now engaged in a battle of sorts, about halfway up the winding tower stairs. Faramir fearfully turned his head in the direction of the sound.
"Do you think something bad will happen?" he asked Boromir.
"Of course not," murmured Boromir in the most convincing voice he could conjure. However, the older boy found himself unable to meet his brother's gaze, fearing that Faramir might then detect the true nature of the doubts that filled his mind. Boromir had rarely seen Denethor in the midst of a swordfight, for he generally left those matters to the guards, and the boy did not know how powerful an opponent Bardok might prove to be.
Faramir was not satisfied by Boromir's reply. "Are you sure?" he asked, as if he did not really believe what he had heard.
"Everything will be fine, Faramir. Father won't let anything bad happen, to himself, or to me and you. The men of Minas Tirith are valiant, after all." He still detected doubt on Faramir's face, and added, "Trust me."
Faramir nodded. "I will," he said softly.
The two brothers then became silent, listening to the sound of the battle down below.
********
Eventually, the sound of the swords clashing ceased. Swift footsteps could be heard now, upon the stairs, as a man scrambled towards the top of the tower. The brothers backed away from the stairwell, fearfully glancing in the direction of the noise. It appeared to be very close now.
Boromir stepped in from of Faramir, preparing to defend him if need be. He tried not to envision himself facing off with the powerful looking man from Harad, while his brother attempted to escape down the stairs. Who knew what sight might greet Faramir down there, even if he did mange to flee?
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the stairs, stepping out on to the top of the tower. He wearily stumbled towards the boys, then reached towards them.
Within seconds, Boromir and Faramir collapsed in relief into the strong comfort of Denethor's arms.
