"Can I practise on ye?" Nova pleaded, trailing bandages as she walked into
the training yard, where Boromir was sparring with Yaco, the Swordmaster.
Faramir was polishing his sword, and looked up at Nova's approach.
Since Vivienne had been confined to bed, Nova had adopted many of her more amusing qualities, including her tendency towards slightly annoying activities.
Coming up to the boys for company at inopportune moments was one.'
"We're busy at the moment," Faramir tried to explain, but Nova simply tilted her head to the side.
"Ye dinnae haf tae do naught but sit still," She admonished, "Please?"
"If you are sure that it will not interrupt..." He said finally, "Do not attract Yaco's attention, though, or there may be trouble.
Nova let out a whoop of delight, then hurriedly covered her mouth with her hands. Yaco didn't even look towards her, but Faramir noticed a twinkle in the woman's eye.
Yaco Hawke was twenty years old, and one of the finest swordsmen in all of Gondor.
She had been appointed Swordmaster of Minas Tirith at the age of only sixteen, when the previous master, Eldon, had did while visiting his home at the foot of Calembel.
Even though she was so young, Yaco had been Eldon's apprenticed, and so had been hastily promoted. The military education of the young princes could not afford the delay that would have ensued if another Master had had to be trained.
Although reluctant to induct a woman into such a position, Denethor had known that there was no choice in the matter.
Faramir could remember the day he and his brother had arrived at their lessons to find only their master's apprentice, standing in the master's place. His own quiet surprise and curiosity – this was the first time he'd seen a woman weild a sword, and he was impressed.
Boromir had been downright outraged, and had shown it. Thirteen years old, he was a difficult young man, with strong opinions and stronger prejudices.
Now, looking at his older brother, Faramir could see that he had matured a lot in the past four years, and now he genuinely respected the woman who was only three years older than he was.
Faramir returned to reality with a jolt, when his sword slipped from his finger's numb grasp and cut a deep gash into his palm.
Looking down, he found bandages tightly wrapped around his left leg, and creeping up his thigh.
Nova, however, had spotted the new wound and crowed with delight.
A real injury for her to 'fix'!
Boromir was now grinning, sneaking glances at his brother at every opportunity.
"Faramir."
At the sound of his father's voice, Faramir leapt to his feet, terror rising, stumbling when he found that Nova, in her excitement, had bound his hand to his thigh.
Boromir stepped over quickly and cut him free, laughing animatedly.
Nova, blushing, took one alarmed look at Denethor before dashing from the yard.
Faramir straightened carefully, holding his injured hand close, aware that the bandage unravelling from his leg looked ridiculous.
Denethor beckoned for him to follow, and walked swiftly away.
Drawing in a deep, slightly gulping breath, Faramir followed his father, his trepidation hanging over him like a cloud.
Since Vivienne had been confined to bed, Nova had adopted many of her more amusing qualities, including her tendency towards slightly annoying activities.
Coming up to the boys for company at inopportune moments was one.'
"We're busy at the moment," Faramir tried to explain, but Nova simply tilted her head to the side.
"Ye dinnae haf tae do naught but sit still," She admonished, "Please?"
"If you are sure that it will not interrupt..." He said finally, "Do not attract Yaco's attention, though, or there may be trouble.
Nova let out a whoop of delight, then hurriedly covered her mouth with her hands. Yaco didn't even look towards her, but Faramir noticed a twinkle in the woman's eye.
Yaco Hawke was twenty years old, and one of the finest swordsmen in all of Gondor.
She had been appointed Swordmaster of Minas Tirith at the age of only sixteen, when the previous master, Eldon, had did while visiting his home at the foot of Calembel.
Even though she was so young, Yaco had been Eldon's apprenticed, and so had been hastily promoted. The military education of the young princes could not afford the delay that would have ensued if another Master had had to be trained.
Although reluctant to induct a woman into such a position, Denethor had known that there was no choice in the matter.
Faramir could remember the day he and his brother had arrived at their lessons to find only their master's apprentice, standing in the master's place. His own quiet surprise and curiosity – this was the first time he'd seen a woman weild a sword, and he was impressed.
Boromir had been downright outraged, and had shown it. Thirteen years old, he was a difficult young man, with strong opinions and stronger prejudices.
Now, looking at his older brother, Faramir could see that he had matured a lot in the past four years, and now he genuinely respected the woman who was only three years older than he was.
Faramir returned to reality with a jolt, when his sword slipped from his finger's numb grasp and cut a deep gash into his palm.
Looking down, he found bandages tightly wrapped around his left leg, and creeping up his thigh.
Nova, however, had spotted the new wound and crowed with delight.
A real injury for her to 'fix'!
Boromir was now grinning, sneaking glances at his brother at every opportunity.
"Faramir."
At the sound of his father's voice, Faramir leapt to his feet, terror rising, stumbling when he found that Nova, in her excitement, had bound his hand to his thigh.
Boromir stepped over quickly and cut him free, laughing animatedly.
Nova, blushing, took one alarmed look at Denethor before dashing from the yard.
Faramir straightened carefully, holding his injured hand close, aware that the bandage unravelling from his leg looked ridiculous.
Denethor beckoned for him to follow, and walked swiftly away.
Drawing in a deep, slightly gulping breath, Faramir followed his father, his trepidation hanging over him like a cloud.