I am going to have to take some leaps in time or else I'll be rambling on forever and ever and everyone would just get so bored and have me flamed out of FanFiction.net. So please be prepared to jump some years! =0)

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CHAPTER 9 : Stirring

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"May I sit here?" Boromir asked, clutching his pint of ale in the noisy common room.

The soldier looked up. "Of course, sir!" he said warmly, gesturing to the seat. "It would be an honour to drink with the captain."

Boromir took his seat and grinned. "Well, Alban, it's a pleasure to be drinking with you. You're a good soldier."

Alban reddened a little, then regained his jovial smile. "Thank you, sir. It is good to see you in Osgiliath again, after two years. How is your brother?"

"Faramir is doing well. I would not be surprised if my father made him a captain the moment he turns twenty. He works hard, my little brother. Too hard, sometimes."

"Well, he has a lot to live up to, with you setting such a fine example."

Alban meant it as a compliment, but the remark burned in Boromir's mind. Perhaps it was his fault that Denethor was so hard on Faramir? It was not a secret that Boromir was the better soldier, but that was through no fault of Faramir. Faramir was just… different, more interested in his books and studies than leading armies. But with Boromir blazing ahead, it was made even more obvious that Faramir could not possibly do the same. Was that why their father seemed to dislike Faramir? Then he shook his head, pushing away that thought. There was nothing to be done about that. Denethor would have to learn to accept Faramir as he was, and Boromir intended to see to that some day.

Then a flash of red caught his eye. He turned, but was disappointed to see that the redheaded girl did not have the green eyes he had memorised. Of course not, don't be silly, he told himself. How could Aislin possibly be in Osgiliath? And then he could not help but feel a twinge of jealousy for his younger brother. He liked Osgiliath, of course, but he would much rather be back in Minas Tirith, and with Aislin…

He had dismissed her kiss as just a friendly gesture, but that did not keep it from haunting him, puzzling him. Had she ever done so for Faramir? He did not know, and had shocked himself by wishing that Aislin had never done so for his brother, but only for him. You swore not to take her away from your brother, he reminded himself. Then he turned his attention back to what Alban was saying.

"There seems to be something stirring in the east, we know not what it is. We say nothing, but I fear…" Alban lowered his voice to a whisper. "I fear that Mordor might be awakening."

Boromir frowned. "That is bad news indeed. But Gondor's army shall be ready to meet any threat."

Alban nodded. "Let us hope so."

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Aislin made her way to her parents' place. It was strange that she no longer referred to it as home; home had become her little room in the servants' quarters. Marian had given her the day off, and so she had decided to visit her mother, for she had not seen her for two weeks.

"Aislin!" Her mother gave her a hug. "Oh, it is so good to see you, my little daughter."

"Mother," Aislin said with a laugh. "I'm no longer a child!"

"You'll always be my little daughter to me."

Aislin smiled. Being away from her mother really did improve matters. They no longer argued when the met, and now treated each other with more respect and love than they ever had before. "I've missed you, Mother."

"So have I." Her mother sat opposite her at the table. "Now, there must be plenty for you to tell me."

"Well… Boromir's been in Osgiliath for two weeks, but I suppose you already know that. Faramir's doing double duties; he's trying very hard to live up to his father's expectations, and follow in his brother's footsteps…"

"You seem to spend a lot of time with Faramir… he's a fine fellow," her mother said significantly. "And I remember that as a child you had dreamed of just such a man to sweep you off your feet, you hopeless romantic."

Aislin blushed. Her mother was right, she had dreamed of just such a man, sensitive and kind. "Faramir is a good, honest man. He always says nice things to me, and he always cares about how I feel."

"But?" Her mother knew her best.

Aislin sighed. "But I'm not head over heels in love with him as I thought I would be."

Her mother laughed. "I don't think you can ever be head over heels in love with somebody. I never was, I'll admit that to you. Of course I love your father, but I'll tell you that when I married him, I was still having some doubts. But love grows with time. Don't worry about that, child."

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Faramir sat at his post. At least he liked this duty, sitting next to the beacon. Not that there was any reason for the beacons to be lit. But he liked looking down at Minas Tirith, and sitting here reminded him of the nice lunches he had with his brother, and then with Aislin. And he was glad that even though he did double duties, there was no need for him to take any night duties. He still hated night duties.

He smiled in grim satisfaction. He was working so hard, and had given his father no reason to reprimand him. Soon, his father would have no choice but to promote him; there was no reason not to. Then he would be on the same level as his brother. Never as good, of course, but having the same status was enough for him. And perhaps then he could find some way to convince his father to let him marry Aislin.

Perhaps she would agree to marry me. She has never pushed me away. Perhaps she does love me.

He broke off a piece of bread, and tossed the other half to the other guard. He began to chew on his food. It wasn't that he was hungry, but this duty was seriously boring him.