Evenstar Elanor: Thank you so much for your review! I didn't really expect one for that "chapter"… I totally agree with you about Eowyn. I like her as a character, but I hate the way she uses Faramir. Hope you like this chapter- It's not really getting deep into anything yet, but I have to start somewhere, right?

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Faramir sighed looking out the window of Aragorn's study. He had a bad habit of zoning out during formalities and introductions and customary gossips, and this one he had no desire to listen to. So he gave an occasional nod or yes when seemingly fit, but couldn't keep his eyes off the White City. After 17 years of exile… he was back.

"Have you even heard a word I said?" exclaimed Aragorn exasperated.

Glancing up with a quick nod, Faramir eyed his King expressionlessly. "Yes, my liege," he lied.

"And what is your decision, pray tell?" The question came accompanied by raised eyebrows and a piercing glance, one that used to be so familiar and cherished.

"I will do whatever my liege desires of me," Faramir answered, quickly thinking up a reply that was sure to appease Aragorn.

The King breathed out a sigh of relief. "That is good," he said smiling, always the shrewd politician. "You will be wanted in my chambers after the evening meal, then."

That was his cue to leave. Curtly bowing he left the room, completely confused as to what he had just agreed to. But, the door behind him safely closed, he allowed himself a boyish grin in memory of a time many years ago when he was asked in for a much more… private reason. The smile faded as he remembered exactly how long ago he was wanted, in any sense of the word.

***Flashback***

"Boromir!" Faramir cried, clutching his blanket tight around his body in a feeble attempt to ward off the cold. "Boromir! Where are you? Boromir? Boromir!?"

A strong hand was placed none too gently on his shoulder, keeping him from advancing any further into the night. "Go back to bed, Faramir," commanded a deep voice.

The seven year old looked up into the gray bearded face of his captor. "Where's my brother?" he demanded tearfully. "Where is my brother, Erkenbrand?" he repeated softer, registering the annoyed gleam in his riding/fencing teacher's stare.

Erkenbrand sighed and relaxed his hold on the pupil. "He's with the lord Denethor, youngling. He'll be to bed in some hours."

"Oh," Faramir whispered, calming down once he knew his brother was safe and had not abandoned him. He smiled. "I'll go see him, then. Are they in the library?"

The hold on his shoulder tightened painfully as Erkenbrand's annoyance rose. "I told you to go back to bed, Faramir. Will you undermine that order?"

Bewildered, the boy shook his head no. "I just wanted to say goodnight," he whimpered.

"They are busy with strategics," Erkenbrand snarled. "Something that you would not understand. They do not want you there, interrupting them constantly. Now, to bed with you!" he said, emphasizing the command with a shove in the direction of the bedroom the two brothers shared. Stumbling slightly, Faramir rushed to his cot, tears pricking at his eyes. His brother didn't want to be with him? His father didn't…? Tears started to truly flow as his keen ears picked up a well-worn conversation between Erkenbrand and another of his tutor's, Dervorin.

"You shouldn't be so harsh with him," Dervorin reprimanded. "He's only a child, after all.

Erkenbrand sighed. "I know, I know. But there's something about him, a meekness… he acts like a girl, not as the son of the Steward of Gondor! He can't even hold a sword properly!"

"That's not true, sir. He learns. And he can ride like the best of your younglings, and shoot a bow to match an elf in skill."

"Riding a horse is easily learned, Dervorin. And archery is a cowardly way to fight," snapped the older man.

"Yet it is a most advantageous way," defended the other. "And he has a quick mind."

"That he uses for what? Reading! A lady's pastime!" Erkenbrand was by now furious. "A mind he could put to good use for memorizing techniques or analyzing strategies, he wastes on folklore! He is a weakling, Dervorin, admit it. He brings shame to the Steward's lineage; he is a disgrace to warriors!"

"Not so loud- he may hear you!" Dervorin whispered angrily.

"And if he does, so what? Sticks and stones… It may strengthen him up some."

The younger teacher sighed, seeing that there was no dealing with the short-tempered Rohirrimian. "It is my night for sentry duty. I take my leave of you. Good night."

"Until tomorrow, and pray that the boy grows up to be more like his brother!" cried Erkenbrand.

"Aye," came the muffled reply, followed by a long silence broken only by footsteps and nightly animals.

Faramir curled deep into his blankets, sobbing quietly against his pillow. That is the way Boromir found him an hour later, wearied by his father's lectures. Concern flooded his features as he rushed to his brother's side and gathered him up into a hug.

"What's wrong, Fari?" he murmured, using a nickname long out of use. "Shh… it's all right, it's all right, Fari. What is it? Did you have a nightmare?"

"Am I really that weak, Bor? Do you really not want me as your brother?" Faramir choked between sobs, forgetting that his sibling had not heard the previous conversation.

Boromir tensed up, then hugged his younger brother closer, nearly strangling him in a powerful yet warm bear hug. He could guess what this was about, the other boys had teased Faramir often enough for his gentle nature. For the innocence and overflowing kindness that made Faramir all the more precious to him. "Of course not, Fari! Of course not!" he exclaimed, rocking back and forth gently. "Who gave you that idea? I'll beat the life out of whoever said it, so that they'll be so bruised they won't be able to tell any more lies for weeks! Can you imagine the expression on their mother's face?" Faramir giggled lightly, the rustic attempt at humor less effective than his brother's comforting embrace. Boromir smiled too to see the sobbing had ceased. "I love you Fari, and I'll always love you, no matter what! You're my little brother! Of course I want you…" The soothing voice and arms of his brother soon lulled Faramir to sleep.

But Boromir's words did nothing to console the distress that filled him. The Masters were right, he was weak. He needed the protection of his older brother, and he cried like a girl. From that moment on, Faramir decided to become more like Boromir. More like the brother he loved and revered.

Maybe then, others would respect him too. Maybe then, his father would spend time with him, too…