Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places
thereof
Author's note: This chapter will be short, but chapters will get longer hereafter. This is being written in the morning. . .before school. . .before finals. . .so it may be a bit awkward. That's why.
*****
/Boromir whirled around. Catching his brother's wrist, he flipped the younger boy onto his back with one swift motion. Faramir grunted as the shock of hitting the ground ran through his body, and for a moment lay there on the grass, panting, sweat dripping down his forehead.
Suddenly the face of his elder brother swam before him. "Faramir? Are you all right?"
"Just fine, Boromir, I. . ." He swallowed, then sat up to easier speak. "The shock, that's all, from the impact." Nevertheless his exhaustion caught up to him, and had trouble catching his breath.
Boromir gaze his brother a worried look, then settled beside the younger boy. For nearly an hour Faramir had tracked him, then reversing the roles he had tracked Faramir. In the end Faramir snuck upon Boromir, and in the manner of war games Boromir responded. Sometimes he forgot how truly fragile his little brother was. "Here," Boromir said, offering a flask of water to his brother, "drink."
Faramir nodded to Boromir's monosyllabic command (which may have been an invitation) by gladly accepting the flask and tipping a sip of water into his mouth. Though he could not tell Boromir, Faramir was angry with himself. He should not be so tired, after tracking hardly two hours; why, Boromir hardly sweated at all after the experience. And why had Faramir not caught his brother?
"He has poisoned you, Brother," Boromir spoke, knowing Faramir's thoughts. "Let you not think that only warriors deserve honor, despite what our father may say. Recall that you are not gifted here, but my brother your gift is far mightier than strength of battle. A day may come when numbers alone cannot win, courage fails, and then it will be cunning which rides forth from the battlements to save us all! You, Faramir, you will be this cunning."
The younger boy blushed, but remained unsatisfied. Father wanted two strong boys, not a strong boy and a consolation prize. And so Faramir learned to take a care in the placement of his feet, to walk without making a sound. Content with his abilities, the young son of the Steward tested himself by walking behind the back of his father or his brother. More and more he practiced, until at last a day came when Faramir deemed himself ready, and truly he tested himself.
This was no hare, but a rabbit that Faramir hunted. She (the rabbit was female) perched upon a stretch of grass, nibbling on the juicy green blades but all the while aware. Her velvety pink nose twitched as she smelled the air for predators. Brown was her coat and good for camouflage. This was truly no mistake of nature. Here was perfection.
Crouched in the bushes, Faramir gave little care to this. His was not to romanticize the creature's beauty but to be wary of beauty's uses; the strong hind legs for kicking, the ears and nose ever alert. These he must out manouever.
No trap did Faramir set to catch his prey nor did he rely upon speed. Fifteen years old, the boy had two years of practice with silence. Now he stepped forth from the bushes in which he hid and gently, gently took a step forward. The rabbit did not move. He, Faramir, was less than ten paces away when SNAP! Faramir's foot landed on a small twig.
The rabbit's head shot up and she looked around, but Faramir was silent and still, hardly daring to draw breath. At last, though warily, the creature returned to eating, nibbling upon the plant growth. Faramir started forward again.
Then all at once the rabbit was in his hands! He had sneaked up to the creature, and now would finish his work! Two years' labor would be paid off! Faramir would be proven worthy! Even Steward Denethor could not deny his son's use now!
But the rabbit struggled but Faramir held it, she kicked but he was stronger. . ./
Unnoticed Faramir slipped into his place before the King. His mind had yet to adjust to this concept, but by being constantly aware of his thoughts Faramir checked himself and acted appropriately.
Two were here whom he could not identify, though somehow the looked familiar. . .One of these two turned his head--his, or her? Faramir was uncertain--and, out of the corner of one chilling grey eye, observed Faramir joining the audience belatedly. Faramir shuddered and, feeling quite accused, lowered his eyes, until the voice of the King drew these two attentions away.
'At least King Elessar does not know,' thought Faramir, and though he noted the King's disapproving glance this was naught but a flicker of the eye, and might easily have been the Steward's own conscious.
*****
To be continued
And thank you Arahiril, it was awesome hearing from you!
Author's note: This chapter will be short, but chapters will get longer hereafter. This is being written in the morning. . .before school. . .before finals. . .so it may be a bit awkward. That's why.
*****
/Boromir whirled around. Catching his brother's wrist, he flipped the younger boy onto his back with one swift motion. Faramir grunted as the shock of hitting the ground ran through his body, and for a moment lay there on the grass, panting, sweat dripping down his forehead.
Suddenly the face of his elder brother swam before him. "Faramir? Are you all right?"
"Just fine, Boromir, I. . ." He swallowed, then sat up to easier speak. "The shock, that's all, from the impact." Nevertheless his exhaustion caught up to him, and had trouble catching his breath.
Boromir gaze his brother a worried look, then settled beside the younger boy. For nearly an hour Faramir had tracked him, then reversing the roles he had tracked Faramir. In the end Faramir snuck upon Boromir, and in the manner of war games Boromir responded. Sometimes he forgot how truly fragile his little brother was. "Here," Boromir said, offering a flask of water to his brother, "drink."
Faramir nodded to Boromir's monosyllabic command (which may have been an invitation) by gladly accepting the flask and tipping a sip of water into his mouth. Though he could not tell Boromir, Faramir was angry with himself. He should not be so tired, after tracking hardly two hours; why, Boromir hardly sweated at all after the experience. And why had Faramir not caught his brother?
"He has poisoned you, Brother," Boromir spoke, knowing Faramir's thoughts. "Let you not think that only warriors deserve honor, despite what our father may say. Recall that you are not gifted here, but my brother your gift is far mightier than strength of battle. A day may come when numbers alone cannot win, courage fails, and then it will be cunning which rides forth from the battlements to save us all! You, Faramir, you will be this cunning."
The younger boy blushed, but remained unsatisfied. Father wanted two strong boys, not a strong boy and a consolation prize. And so Faramir learned to take a care in the placement of his feet, to walk without making a sound. Content with his abilities, the young son of the Steward tested himself by walking behind the back of his father or his brother. More and more he practiced, until at last a day came when Faramir deemed himself ready, and truly he tested himself.
This was no hare, but a rabbit that Faramir hunted. She (the rabbit was female) perched upon a stretch of grass, nibbling on the juicy green blades but all the while aware. Her velvety pink nose twitched as she smelled the air for predators. Brown was her coat and good for camouflage. This was truly no mistake of nature. Here was perfection.
Crouched in the bushes, Faramir gave little care to this. His was not to romanticize the creature's beauty but to be wary of beauty's uses; the strong hind legs for kicking, the ears and nose ever alert. These he must out manouever.
No trap did Faramir set to catch his prey nor did he rely upon speed. Fifteen years old, the boy had two years of practice with silence. Now he stepped forth from the bushes in which he hid and gently, gently took a step forward. The rabbit did not move. He, Faramir, was less than ten paces away when SNAP! Faramir's foot landed on a small twig.
The rabbit's head shot up and she looked around, but Faramir was silent and still, hardly daring to draw breath. At last, though warily, the creature returned to eating, nibbling upon the plant growth. Faramir started forward again.
Then all at once the rabbit was in his hands! He had sneaked up to the creature, and now would finish his work! Two years' labor would be paid off! Faramir would be proven worthy! Even Steward Denethor could not deny his son's use now!
But the rabbit struggled but Faramir held it, she kicked but he was stronger. . ./
Unnoticed Faramir slipped into his place before the King. His mind had yet to adjust to this concept, but by being constantly aware of his thoughts Faramir checked himself and acted appropriately.
Two were here whom he could not identify, though somehow the looked familiar. . .One of these two turned his head--his, or her? Faramir was uncertain--and, out of the corner of one chilling grey eye, observed Faramir joining the audience belatedly. Faramir shuddered and, feeling quite accused, lowered his eyes, until the voice of the King drew these two attentions away.
'At least King Elessar does not know,' thought Faramir, and though he noted the King's disapproving glance this was naught but a flicker of the eye, and might easily have been the Steward's own conscious.
*****
To be continued
And thank you Arahiril, it was awesome hearing from you!
