Feel

Dark. The night was dark. Not the peaceful dark of a moonlit night, though, but a pressing dark. A twelve-year old boy lay on his bed. He was supposed to be asleep, but he was too much awake to do so. Today had been a good day. His teacher had been happy to see his progress. He had been practising hard and it showed in his moves.

He stood up, and stretched a bit. In the candle-light we can see his muscles. They would've been more suitable for someone six years this boy's major, but he didn't seem to notice that. He looked out of the window, into the dark night. There was one light, coming from the high tower of the White City. Boromir sighed. Why is father always working? He thought to himself. I miss him. Not to mention Faramir does.

His thoughts were disturbed by a soft knock on the door. It opened to reveal a scrawny-looking boy of seven.

'Hello, little brother. Did no sleep come to you, as well?'

the younger boy nodded.

' I couldn't stop thinking of mother. I understand her better now, I think.'

Boromir sat down on his bed and motioned for his brother to sit down next to him.

' Would you share your thoughts with me? I would love to hear them.'

Faramir drew a deep breath, as if he was going to plunge himself head-first into a deep pool.

' Mother was lonely. She was surrounded by people, but still lonely.'

The older boy thought on this awhile.

' You are probably right. We were watching her as she slowly pined away, and we did nothing. I still feel her around me. Her words bring comfort to me, yet I feel guilty.'

Faramir nodded in agreement. They said nothing for a while. At length, Faramir spoke.

' I wonder if father feels any pain over her death. He is so silent. We can never mention her around him, and he looks at us and says we should not think on her anymore. That she is gone.'

' He feels it just as strongly as we do, if not stronger. He loved her. I remember something from a long time ago. You were hardly two years old at the time. They talked about the daily problems at first. I saw him holding her hand. He whispered something in her ear, and she laughed. That was the last time I ever heard her laughter, as she fell slowly into shadow. I just…'

Boromir stopped when he heard a silent sniffing next to him. Faramir's eyes were silently spilling tears that made their way down his cheek, to fall neatly in his lap. Boromir put his arms around his brother and held him. He rocked his brother to and fro, like he had seen his mother do when Faramir was sad.

In the tower

Stop looking at me!

I know your plans, and they will not succeed. Do not even try to lure me with your false promises of a better future, when all you will show me is pain.

What?

No, I am not afraid of you. Do not even think that. I am my own master and I shall do as I please!

Just hear me talking to you like a spoiled child. What is the matter with me? Why does this evening ring so strangely in my ears? What have you to show me that will enlighten my spirits?

The orb glowed dim in the light of the candles. A man sat at his desk in the adjourning room. The door connecting that room with the other was open. Denethor remembered closing it himself, but bit didn't surprise him anymore. Stranger things had happened in this tower.

When he looked, sometimes the orb would show him strange women. Beautiful to behold. Their hair falling down their naked backs, their smiles enticing him. They were unaware of him looking at them. They would sit near the pool and brush each other's hair. They would talk in a foreign tongue, making their words drip from their tongues like honey. Sweet nectar of doom, it had proved to be. Every time Denethor had hoped to see them he had found only destruction, distress, pain. The orb seemed to know his mind, and would seduce him into looking.

And so it was this night.

He stood up from his desk. No, don't go! What will I bring you but despair!'  The small voice in his head was overpowered by the will to gaze into the pitch-black depth. He walked towards the orb and placed his hands over it. He would concentrate on where he wanted to look.

I am Denethor, son of Ecthelion, steward of Gondor. Bend to my will, seeing-stone!

There…soldiers. Where are they coming from? I can seen them clearly. Haradrim. I should've known the dark one would start to gather a host. This is just the beginning. Another heavy blow awaits Gondor.

Wait! Who is that figure sitting proudly in the king's throne? He looks familiar to me in some way.

Ah! Now I see! That Ranger again. And his grey protector holding the invisible strings behind the throne. Power-hungry wizard! I shall keep an eye on you. You shall not move without me knowing about it.

Where am I? It's dark here.

' I can seen you Denethor, steward of a dead people!'

Denethor stood up. He had fallen it seemed, though he couldn't remember falling. Outside, the sun was beginning to rise. Denethor felt relieved when he saw the light. He thought about the last time had seen a sunrise. How long had it been? Years?

When Faramir woke up the sun was just beginning to rise. He looked out the window to enjoy the splendour of new light. As he looked down he saw a tall, proud figure standing at the edge of the large platform that stretched beneath him. The sunlight was playing a game with his features, making it look like he radiated light.

Father?