CHAPTER 2 : Just The Three

*&*

Faramir walked briskly on the streets, trying to ignore the people who were gawking at his bruise. It was a little purple, yes, but at least Aislin had prevented it from being too swollen. He really needed to thank her again for that sometime.

Once again, he was going to report to his father, having been given the night duty for this month. He hated night duties, hated the darkness that seemed to close in around him and remind him how lonely he was, and how much he wanted his father to just care about him. But he would never disobey his father. One day he hoped that his father would say a kind word to him, or just show that he cared, if only just a little bit. He would never stop working for his father's love.

He sighed. Why was he thinking about this? It was not something that he could change overnight. It was not even something that Boromir could change overnight, try as his brother might to make their father realise Faramir's efforts.

"Good morning, sir!"

Faramir jumped at the voice. He had not realised that he had already walked past Aislin's home. She sat outside, grinning at him. A small pile of dishes was stacked next to her. She was rubbing her hands, as if trying to get the wrinkles out.

"Did you mean to make me fall again?" he asked, grinning back. "I wouldn't enjoy having another bruise."

Aislin laughed. "I didn't know you could fall that easily. You're earlier today, I see. Did you get into a lot of trouble yesterday? Maybe you should hurry today, so you could be early."

Faramir shook his head. "My father would never notice me being early. He'd only pick out what is wrong with me turning up early."

"Why does he hate you so?" Aislin frowned.

Faramir shrugged. "I don't know why. Sometimes I don't think that he hates me. Boromir said that I remind people of our mother Finduilas, which is perhaps why my father does not like to see me." He came to sit next to Aislin. "I never really knew my mother. She died when I was just five years old. Boromir remembers, though, and he said that she was lovely, and loved us all very much."

"I have heard from my father that Finduilas was a wonderful woman, and so my mother would have me learn from her," Aislin remarked.

Faramir poked the oil stain on Aislin's brown dress. "Does your mother think you are doing well in becoming a woman, then?" he asked, smiling at her.

Aislin looked down dismally at the stain. "I didn't know it was there." She looked so forlorn that Faramir just had to laugh. Then she looked up at him sharply, but began to laugh as well. "I don't think my mother thinks I am doing very well, actually." She gave him a push. "You had better go, or you would be late in reporting to your father again, and we wouldn't want that, would we?"

Faramir jumped to his feet, nodding. "Yes, I would not want to be late again. Perhaps we will speak again later." Then he was off, hurrying to his father's hall.

Aislin watched him go, nodding in acknowledgement to those who greeted him. She admired him. How could he go through with each day, knowing that nothing he did would be right in his father's eyes? How could he bear not knowing his mother? Although she often wished to be away from her mother, Aislin knew that the both of them could not be far apart from each other for long. She did not understand how Faramir could bear all this, how he could keep all his complaints and dissatisfactions to himself. If she were in his place, she knew that she would burst, perhaps even kill herself.

*&*

Faramir came to see Aislin in the afternoon, and, much to everyone's surprise, he had brought Boromir along. Faramir held up a basket. "I was wondering if your mother would excuse you for a moment. Boromir's off-duty now, and my father, by some strange circumstance, only asked that I did not bother him for the rest of the day. So I thought that perhaps you would like to join us for lunch?"

"Please, Mother, may I go? Please?" Aislin pleaded.

Her mother smiled at Aislin. "All right. But don't be out for too long. I expect you back before it gets dark."

Aislin hugged her mother, and then she was off with the brothers.

*&*

Boromir led the way, all the way up to the beacon. He nodded at the guards, and they smiled as if they were expecting him.

"We always like to eat our lunches here, when we can," Faramir explained to Aislin.

"Yes, the view is magnificent, don't you think?" Boromir added as they sat down next to the beacon, looking out at the realm of Gondor.

At first the height scared Aislin a little, for she had never been so high up before, and she was unaccustomed to being able to see so much, to see so far. Then she smiled and laughed. "It's beautiful. Is that Osgiliath that I see there?"

Boromir nodded, passing her a piece of bread. "Yes it is. Have you ever been there, Aislin?"

She shook her head. "I have never left Minas Tirith. In fact, there are many places in this city that I have no explored yet."

"One day you must do so," Faramir said resolutely. "And I will accompany you. What about you, Boromir? Would you join us?"

"If I have no task on hand," was the reply. "I have to be available always in case a need arises, or Father would not be pleased."

Faramir laughed bitterly, or so Aislin thought. "Father would never be displeased with you, Boromir. Surely you know that? Nothing you do is wrong."

Boromir waved away that remark, and said, "Let's forget about that for now, Faramir. There is nothing that can be done about it, not now anyway. Let's just enjoy this meal, and be good company for Aislin here." He smiled at her, offering her the basket so she could have her pick of the food. She accepted it with a smile in return, and peered at the huge amount of food in the basket. Either the brothers had a fantastic appetite, or they thought that she was a big eater, as the basket was piled with food that could have fed many. Boromir saw the look on his face and laughed. "You must be wondering why there's so much food." He turned and thumped his younger brother on the back. "Faramir here can out-eat a whole troop of soldiers."

"You exaggerate, brother," Faramir protested, but he did not hesitate in saying, "Pass the basket, please." Just before he took a bite of the salted pork, he pointed out, "I'm growing, I need food."

Boromir and Aislin laughed at the remark. How fun it is to be in the company of the brothers, Aislin thought to herself, smiling.

*&*

Faramir walked Aislin back home just as the sun was setting. Boromir had gone to do his duties after lunch, leaving the two younger ones to wander about the city as they willed. And so Faramir had brought Aislin to the library. She had never seen so many books in her life, and had spent hours poring over those that Faramir recommended.

"Thank you for everything," she told him when they reached her door. "I had a really good time today."

He made a little bow. "It's my pleasure, miss," he said. "I had a good time as well."

"Perhaps we could do this more often. I'm sure my mother would not mind. The sons of the Steward are all respectable men," she replied, winking. Faramir laughed, and she turned to enter the house. Then she turned and added, "And please thank your brother for the lovely day as well."

*&*

Faramir walked back home in good spirits. He had really enjoyed himself today. It was firstly a most fortunate thing that his father had found no task for him today, and the second thing that made it a good day was that he had Aislin to spend time with. She was so cheerful, so relaxed, so comfortable with her life. So it seemed to him, anyway.

He wished that his life could be as simple as hers. To have two parents who loved him, who cared for him, and to have no other duty than to be a good child. He was not like Boromir; he did not like wars or battles. His brother had far better mind for military strategies, and that was no secret. Faramir would have simply been content to be left alone with a few books, and his thoughts. Non-violent thoughts. "I'll never be of much use to my father, being not like Boromir," he muttered under his breath. And he knew that it was true. His father had no use for books and legends, but valued good captains and soldiers. Faramir was skilled with the bow and arrow, and not bad with the sword, but try as he might, he could not be like Boromir. He could not plan battles as well, nor was he as willing to lead men out to fight.

By some cruel twist of fate, he had been born just to be hated by his father.